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gabisvt · 4 months

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THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

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

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going far?"

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

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

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

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

"You really don't have to…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Late night?"

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

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

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

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

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, rebellion or something else?"

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

"Did it work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

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

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?" He asks once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, chef!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chef, your girl is here."

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

"Here you go."

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Chef!"

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

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

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

"You too, Neil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your famous pizza?"

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

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

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That rough," you grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What good does he have to offer you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been so fuckin' long.

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

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

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmen, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

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

The End?

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

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

thank you! bye xx

#this was soooo good #carmen berzatto

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gabisvt · 9 months

Text

Movie Stars

Ibrahima ‘Ibou’ Konate x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sweet baby ibou, he's a vlogger y'all could neverrrrr, he's in your face 24/7 but in a cute way, holiday getaways, friendly teasing, lipstick marks, a suggestive ending.

Word Count: 673

Author's Note: first time writing for ibou :) idk what took me sooo long, he's the cutest ever.

Ibou decides it would be a good idea for you two to make a vlog over the holiday break, just so he can keep his teammates updated.

Switzerland was the choice for this year's winter getaway. You and Ibou had decided you wanted snow instead of sun this year, as you had gone to Mexico the year before.

It's barely past 10 and you can hear your boyfriend speaking, you assumed he was on the phone with one of his teammates, probably Virgil calling to check up on the two of you - something he tended to do with all of the players.

Your face buried into your boyfriend's chest, trying to wake yourself up when you feel him poke your side. You look up, sleep still in your eyes, fully expecting to see someone on the phone; you just weren't expecting to see yourself.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, the red button blinking - he was recording.

Ibou held the phone so you were both in frame, his arm around you. "It's a vlog, babe! Say hi!"

You roll your eyes playfully, "good morning vlog, it's too early for this." You tell him, rolling the other way. You can hear Ibou speaking, "she's not a morning person, give her a few hours and some coffee, then we'll try again."

Swinging your arm behind you, you smack him in the side as you pull the covers up again.

It wasn't until 2:30 that you saw the phone make its reappearance for the vlog. Your ski goggles on your helmet as you watched your boyfriend film the scenery in front of you; mountains covered in snow, the people scattered all over the place, the sun shining down on you.

Ibou turns the camera back to you. "Say hello to ms. grumpy, she's not so grumpy now. She ate and had coffee." He laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. He goes on to say, "you look like a penguin, baby, all bundled up like that."

You were bundled up for the sweater; winter coat, snow pants, boots and your gloves, hat and helmet cause you weren't about to freeze and die or slip and die either.

Taking the phone from him, you turned the camera to face him. "You can't talk when you're bundled up ten times more than me."

Ibou was wearing about 5 layers, scarves, gloves, hat and everything in between. A blizzard didn't stand a chance against him.

He put his phone away, the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon on the slopes.

It wasn't until later, when you were getting ready for dinner that you heard your boyfriend talking to himself again.

The man showing the vlog around the cabin you were staying in. You were sitting at the vanity, fixing the front pieces of your hair when his footsteps came up the stairs and into the bedroom.

"And this is the master suite, we can find the most beautiful woman in the world getting ready for dinner." He says, flipping the camera to face you. You jokingly look around, "who are you talking to ?"

"You, of course." He smiles, his voice sincere.

You smile, going back to your routine as he shows the vlog the view from your bedroom window.

"So," he turns to you again, "what is that? What are you putting on?"

"Dior, baby." You tell him, swiping the lipstick over your lips. "Shade.." you checked the bottom of the tube. "999, velvet."

"Oh Dior? Très chic, mon amour." (very fancy, my love.)

You nod, pressing your lips together. "I thought so too, but I think I have too much on." You get up, walking over to him.

Ibou's got the phone facing the two of you, your hand on his jaw as you get on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek. There's a red kiss mark left behind on his face, the man smiles when he sees it and you check your lipstick in the camera.

"Perfect."

"I think it's time for the vlog to end." He says, pulling you to him before kissing you. The phone gets tossed somewhere as Ibou picks you up, carrying you to the bed.

#AAAA HES SO CUTE I LOVE HIM

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gabisvt · 10 months

Text

For the first time — DS TAA

AUTHOR: @trentione1 is the one to blame for this

SUMMARY: in which there is a first time for everything…

WARNINGS: suggestive but no smut

DISCLAIMER: I know this is not everyone’s cup of tea so do not read if uncomfortable

Trent could not recall the first time he ever fell in love, in fact, he wasn’t even sure he had ever been in love with someone before meeting him.

The first time he had met Dominik was on the first day of practice after the summer break. He had kept up with his team’s new signings over summer but he didn’t really put much thought to it. But when he set foot on the green grass of AXA training center and he saw him, Trent already knew he was fucked.

Dominik stood there, exuding confidence and humbleness at the same time. An attractive aura surrounded his persona, which forced Trent to get closer to him through the weeks. He had seen Dominik before, but it had been years since their last encounter and he never really focused on the opposite team’s players too much. But now he was on his team and Trent wanted to implode.

As weeks went by he managed to get know him better. He was a little sunshine, impossible to hate and so easy to love. Everyone got along with him and despite the language barrier his English was quite good. Dominik was always very attentive of his surroundings and cared for every of his teammates. Yes, he grew closer to some than others but still, he had a good relationship with everyone.

As much as Trent wanted for this feeling to be hidden Dominik could read him like an open book, in spite of having known each other for just a few weeks. Dominik had noticed Trent right away. Well he already knew him, he was one of the best right back’s in the Premier League and had achieved so much just at 25 years old. Needless to say Dominik respected him as a player. But as a person, well Dominik liked him.

Trent was too focused on not getting caught and hiding his feelings to realize Dominik was just as attracted to him. The Hungarian let his eyes linger on the scouser much more than needed, especially during training when he was covered in sweat and his muscles bulged through the kit. Dominik liked Trent’s physique, he liked his accent too, even if sometimes it was hard to understand, but more than anything he liked his personality. If he were to define Trent he’d describe as a black cat: he looked intimidating, he didn’t like to talk much to people he didn’t know, mostly he kept to himself and he was rather laidback. But when it came to people he was comfortable around, well he was different. He could see it with Andrew: Trent became so radiant around his best mate.

What did it for Dominik was how well they understood each other on the pitch. They had the same way of thinking, the same vision of the game, they saw the same opportunities. That got Dominik off big time. He had had connections with past teammates — even more than that— but nothing came close to what he felt with Trent.

Therefore it was only a matter of time before they grew closer and closer. They started with silly jokes during training and then it led to hang outs outside work. Trent was so scared of Dominik seeing right through him that he didn’t even question if his feelings could be mutual. The scouser didn’t tell anyone, not even Robbo who was supposed to be his closest friend at Liverpool. He was rather ashamed of himself, not because he was attracted to another man— that he had known for several years— but because that man happened to be one of his teammates. He felt guilty.

Dominik didn’t. He loved the fact that they saw each other so many times through the week. He couldn’t be happier about this.

Their relationship was rather flirty on Dominik’s side. He was always teasing the right back, cracking allusive jokes and touching him at every chance he got. When his first goal with Liverpool came he was happier about having Trent’s hugging him and whispering his congratulations in his ear than about the goal itself. The attraction was thick but someway Trent didn’t acknowledge it.

Trent tried to act the same way he acted around Andy, Ibou or Mo but it was difficult. Because none of his teammates made him feel like a schoolgirl around her first crush, none of them made him hard just by looking at his way, he didn’t accidentally think about any of them while jerking off. Only Dominik. And this drove him insane. How could he feel like this about his own teammate? It was wrong. But it felt so right.

“Trent’s ex was crazy. I’m sorry, man, but she was.” Andy stated during one of their training sessions. They were talking about nonsense, about their personal lives. Trent furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes. He didn’t disagree with Andy but still, he felt vulnerable under Dominik’s enigmatic gaze. The Hungarian wanted to know more about Trent and he knew Andy was an open book about this.

“She never wanted him to go out with us. Trent is already a homebody so we literally only saw him during matches and practice. Plus, I’m still convinced I caught her flirting with Ibou once.” Andy kept talking despite his best friend’s glares. Dominik smiled, amused by this dynamic between the two of them. Trent didn’t like to talk about his ex, because she was in the past and he had nothing to do with her anymore. He couldn’t even dare to look up at Dominik.

“What about you, Dom? Got a girlfriend?” Andy finally asked, which made Trent take back every mental curse he had thrown at his mate. His eyes finally met Dominik’s. The Hungarian chuckled and glanced at Trent.

“No, not anymore. We broke up a few months ago.” He stated. And despite being Andy the one having asked the question, he was replying to Trent whose cheeks burnt. He was embarrassed. Now that he had the confirmation that Dominik was indeed single, he felt a weight had come off his chest. But what if he was strictly into girls? Trent shook that thought off his mind. It’s Dominik. His teammate. Stop.

“Sorry about that. But hey, you can keep Trent company. He needs a wingman and unfortunately I’m married so I can’t help him.” Yea, his wingman. Dominik nodded chuckling again, before finishing the last rep of lateral presses.

More weeks went by and Trent felt as if he was losing his mind. Having Dominik around him 24/7 was both a curse and a blessing. It was hard to keep faking disinterest and nonchalance when all he wanted to do was ripping every player’s head who dared to foul Dominik. He happened to hold his breath whenever Dominik would hug or touch him. He couldn’t do it anymore. He could smell his scent off his clothes whenever he’d get home. He was everywhere.

Things took a turn after the Fulham match. Trent’s double had him walking five feet above ground. He had missed this feeling dearly. Nothing else mattered in that moment. He was the last one to leave the locker room, having been interviewed several times and being stopped by many who congratulated him. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He was folding his kit in his bag before zipping it.

“Are you always this slow?” He recognized Dominik’s voice and he could sense the smirk displayed on his face. He slowly turned around with a fake annoyed face. Dominik stood leaning against the threshold of the locker room, his curls finally loosely resting against his forehead. Arms crossed over his chest.

“Didn’t know you were waiting for me.” He defended himself. Dominik took no offense because he knew this was Trent. Plus, the scouser struggled to look at him in the eye which only confirmed that there was something going on. At first he simply thought Trent was shy. Now he knew it wasn’t just that.

“I wanted to congratulate you on the goals.” He stated, stepping closer to the scouser who didn’t have anything to focus his attention on outside the Hungarian. Trent knew he couldn’t win this 1 v 1 with Dominik. He exuded confidence in every context and he was way too fucked to even dare and try to pretend his gaze didn’t intimidate him.

“Thanks.” He simply said, while getting his bag. Silence fell over the room and Trent wanted to scream. Dominik’s eyes tormented him, he felt naked under his scrutiny. Why did he have to have such an intense stare? Trent prayed to God he’d just leave him alone.

“Why can’t you ever look at me? Am I so ugly to look at?” Dominik was obviously joking. Not only because he didn’t think so low of himself, also because it wouldn’t be true. Dominik was the most handsome man Trent had ever laid his eyes on. He was almost envious. Trent chuckled nervously. He noticed.

“I do look at you.” He tried to poorly defend himself.

“Look at me then.” Dominik teased and Trent was forced to raise eyes to meet his. Dominik’s lips were curved in a soft smirk. His signature expression. The scouser almost shook and looked away from the intense stare. Maybe he could look at his nose or mouth to pretend he-

“Don’t look at my lips, look at my eyes. Unless you want to kiss me.” Trent hated how nonchalant he was when making such jokes. He almost gasped. Was it just a joke? Or did he know? Trent finally gave in.

“What?” It came out higher than Trent wanted to and he just wanted to disappear now. What was wrong with him? It was just Dominik… Yea, just Dominik.

“Would it be so bad? I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.” Dominik continued to tease him. Bet you are. Trent thought to himself. The Hungarian was just a few inches away, if Trent stretched his hand out he’d touch him. The scouser was at loss of words. What was he supposed to say?

“I- what?” He kept repeating the same thing over and over again. Dominik chuckled like he always did, because he could handle stressful situations better than Trent and he envied him for this.

“Relax, I’m joking. Unless you really want me to kiss you. Just to see if you’d agree with them.” Dominik towered over Trent even if he wasn’t that much taller than the scouser who now felt cornered, despite not being pressed against a wall. Trent could have left if he wanted, Dominik wasn’t forcing him to do anything. Yet he was petrified, his feet glued to the floor.

“Uhm” Trent wanted to slap himself. Why couldn’t he come up with one of those Dominik’s comebacks he always used against him? He just stuttered and panicked. Dominik smirked again, his teeth sinking in his bottom lip making Trent look at his lips again. Fuck.

“I need words, Trent. Do you want to kiss me?” How did things turn out this way? Trent wondered. He was in a daze. Dominik’s lips inches away from him stopped him from reasoning. He really wanted to kiss the Hungarian. He often wondered how his plump lips would feel against his own, he never doubted he’d be a great kisser. He could tell.

“Yes…” it was a whisper, Dominik wouldn’t even have heard him if he weren’t a foot away. The Hungarian smirked to himself as he cupped his cheek and leaned in. Trent’s stomach exploded with butterflies as his lips finally touched his. Dominik took it slowly: mainly because he didn’t want to rush him, but also because he wanted to savor the moment. His lips moved in sync with Trent’s. His tongue softly swiped across his bottom lip, implicitly asking for access which Trent granted. The scouser courageously rested his hands on Dominik’s hips, stepping closer. Dominik deepened the kiss, making Trent gasp. Fuck he was a good kisser.

Dominik brushed his thumb against his cheek whilst his tongue grazed against his. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he felt like touching the sky when kissing someone. His fingers tightened the grip on his hips. The air was knocked out of his lungs. Trent could feel himself grow harder by the minute. Dominik slowly pulled away, pecking his lips a couple time as he let go of him. Trent almost whined when the Hungarian did so. However, they stayed close, their lips still brushing against each other.

Trent had this dreamy look in his eyes that let Dominik know he was completely and entirely fucked.

“So? Am I a good kisser?”

#this was saurrrrr good

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gabisvt · 10 months

Text

Spin Me Around

Lucas Paqueta x Fem!Reader

Warnings: soft husband!lucas, alcohol and the consumption of, making a mess and you're not having it, dancing cause it wouldn't be him without it, the use of alcohol in a sexual way (if that's even a warning), oral (f!receiving), fingering, finger sucking, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,633

Author's Note: big shocker, this one's for pookie also. I can't un-see that TikTok of drake I sent you loool. anyways, eat up besties.

merry smutmas series

Lucas busts out the champagne and the streamers to celebrate the new years in your new place.

It was a last minute plan; initially, you were supposed to head to the club with your friends to ring in the new years but you were so exhausted.

Lucas decided last minute that he didn't want to spend new years in Brazil, even though you two had gone for Christmas. You ended up coming back to England, the two of you making plans with a few of his teammates but he wasn't up for it, nor were you.

See, you had just moved into a new place before the holidays and with all the prep for the Brazil trip, you sort of forgo setting up your place. Now that you were home, you two had done that in the days after your return.

You both had underestimated the amount of work that would go into setting up the new place.

Hence why you ended up cancelling your plans and staying in. Your husband ordered take out and you caught up on your TV show.

It was 11pm when Lucas finally got up, switching off your TV show to put on music. Your head tilts to the side, looking at him, "what are you doing ?"

"I know we decided to stay in, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun."

The man grabs your hand, pulling you up and off of the couch before the two of you make your way to the kitchen. You leant on the counter, watching as he looked through the fridge for something. Lucas claps his hand - you suppose he found what he was looking for - reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of champagne.

There's a wicked smile on his face, the man raising his eyebrows just as he lifts the bottle. It's like you can read his mind; "no." You point your finger at him, wagging it at him as if he was a child.

Lucas ignores your warning, shaking the bottle up and down a few times. "Lucas, don't." You tell him, stepping towards him to take the bottle.

You can't stop him in time.

He pops the cork, the gold liquid spraying all over the kitchen and the two of you. To make matters worse, Lucas shakes the bottle, jumping around to the beat of the song. "Babe!" You laughed, turning away from him but he grabs your arm, your sock covered feet sliding over the wet tiles, letting him pull you into him.

"Dance with me, meu amor." His arm wraps around your waist and the other holds the bottle as you two spin around the kitchen.

It's loud, so loud; you're laughing and Lucas is singing terribly off key to the ridiculously loud music.

He takes a sip of the champagne, the liquid bubbling up and dripping down his chin. Neither of you seemed to have a care in the world at the moment.

You lean your head back when he pats your side, letting him pour the champagne into your mouth. It spills over your lips, dribbling down your chin to your neck. You can't stop the giggle that leaves your lips when Lucas leans down to kiss your neck, his tongue dragging up your soft skin. You can feel him kissing up and down where the champagne has split.

"Lucas," you mumbled, your hand on his jaw. "That's so gross!" You giggled, making a face. He smiles, kissing you, "I don't care."

You laugh, taking the bottle from him to set it on the counter. He pushes you back against him, letting you turn to face him again. Lucas has got his lips on either side of you, pinning you between the marble and him.

"Hi pretty lady," he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more. You peck his lips, "one sip has gotten you drunk?"

"No," he rolled his eyes at your words, "I can't love on my wife?"

"You can," you hold his cheeks, letting him kiss you. Lucas steps closer, lifting you onto the counter without separating the two of you. He moves between your legs, his hands wandering all over your body.

His hands rest on your thighs, working their way up to your shorts. You already know his plan, you've known Lucas for years.

The man never changed, it was one of the many reasons why you loved.

"Not here," you swat his hands away.

He groans, but nods. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you close when he picks you up. "Lucas!" You laughed, holding onto your husband, "this is not what I meant."

"Close enough," he says, "grab the bottle."

You reach over, the dark green bottle in your hand as he carries you to the dining room. "This isn't any better," you tell him, your husband putting you down on the table, standing between your legs.

His hands wander, pulling your top over your head, tossing it behind him. You watch as he pinches your hip, having you lift yourself a bit so he can toss your shorts behind him.

Lucas could see the way your chest heaved under him, under his touch.

He sinks down into his knees in front of you. Your eyes are fixed on your husband, watching his every single move. He tugs on your panties, pulling them down.

The black fabric stuffed into the pocket of his shorts now, earning a slight smile from you.

He reaches up, taking the bottle of champagne from you. A solid swing of it, the light reflecting on his skin, his lips - the way the champagne left his lips wet. God, you wanted to kiss him and you were about too, reaching for your husband before he stops you, his lips finding your leg, leaving wet marks behind until he gets up to your inner thighs.

This was so much better than kissing him.

You’re watching him and Lucas looks up from between your legs, his eyes meeting yours when his tongue meets your clit.

Every time was the same, like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

He’s slow at first, careful with his movements. His tongue rubbing up and down your slit, lapping over your cunt until your thighs squeeze around his head.

“Babe, please.” You begged and your husband looked up at you.

He asks you, “please what?”

“Do something,” you squirm when you feel him move his tongue again.

His name falling from your lips was like heaven on earth to him. He set the bottle down and the same hand, the same cold hand was now rubbing at your entrance. Lucas pushes two fingers into you and you drop back into the table, back arched at the feeling.

He knew you like the back of his hand, curling and pumping his fingers at the right angle and speed, making your legs shake.

"Lucas," you groaned, a hand reaching down to tangle in his hair; it's grown out a bit, long enough for you to pull now.

Something he enjoyed, a mental note made to keep at this length.

You looked down at him, your eyes meeting his as he looked up at you again, watching how your face twists in pleasure. "Baby," you mumbled, chest heaving as you watched him. "Fuck me.. please."

The words tumble out and he pulls his fingers away, getting up off the floor.

His hand reaches up, the two fingers rubbing across your lips and you open your mouth, letting him stick them in. Your lips wrapped around them, tongue lapping over them like they were his cock.

The thought alone made his cock twitch.

Lucas pulls his fingers away and you pout, making him smile. His hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the table a little more.

He's got one of your legs over his shoulder, the other hooked around his hip when he pushes into you.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough. You were already overstimulated from his mouth and his fingers. It wouldn't take much to push you over the edge.

Lucas left you wanting more, hearing you beg for him over and over again. Begging him to do something, anything.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the table, eyes closed and the little L pendant on your chain pooled by your neck when your head fell back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.

He knew you like the back of his hand, every look, every touch, every movement, he knew you.

Lucas watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

“Look at me when you cum.”

You’re forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, looking at your husband just like he wanted when you cum. He follows moments after you, dropping himself down onto you, his chest on your stomach and his cock buried in you. You too had dropped back down onto the table.

The two of you lay there for a moment, neither of you saying anything as you held onto each other. You reach down, twirling a few strands of Lucas' hair before he stands up, untangling himself from you.

Just as you pull his shirt on, the two of you hear the loud popping coming from outside of the window. He nods for you to go ahead and he follows behind you.

Lucas' arms wrap over your shoulders, the two of you watching the fireworks from your kitchen window. "Happy new years," he whispers in your ear, kissing your jaw.

You smile, giving his arm a squeeze. "Happy new years."

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#there’s actually such a lack of paqueta fics and omg this was so good #fic recs #rec: lucas paqueta #rec: smut

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gabisvt · 1 year

Text

spoils of war

{dominik szoboszlai x fem!reader}

in which his national team loses against hers, and she ties him up with his captain’s band.

warnings: plotless smut, as always: some elements of bondage and being tied up / restrained with mild choking, not being allowed to come, blowjobs, accusations of cheating in football, coming without permission.

a/n: i have edited this a billion times and am finally happy with it. I was seized with this idea for days and needed to finally churn it out. please enjoy my first foray into writing about Dominik. written for my captain kink challenge.

He wants to cum. Needs to cum.

He watches her with pleading, begging eyes, from his entwined hands behind his back, wrists bound with the very band he’d brought home tonight, in response to her teasing jokes and taunts.

She’d been bantering his team all night, arrogant and smug with the confidence that her side was clearly going to win, while he’d only been able to torture her back by sending sweaty selfies with his captain’s band prominently displayed on one delicious bicep. She’d been so devious in her reply, and that, he thinks, was probably what got him all distracted in the first place and led to their appalling loss.

All she’d texted him was: so when you lose, Domi - you going to let me tie you up with that band?

And he was utterly done for.

It’d been the quickest “yes” he’d ever replied with. No shame, no hesitation - not even the least bit disgusted with himself for somehow hoping they’d lose. God - he should be tried for crimes against his own country and taken in as a prisoner of war.

That’s what he is, after all - the spoils of war. In the aftermath of a gruelling match, they’d been trashed so badly he could barely look the fans in the face once they left the field. As she’d predicted, her national team had beaten his in a historic defeat that they will be singing about for years to come - one, he knows, she will never let him forget about. Ever.

Back at the hotel, now - she is so eager to take every chance to humiliate him in the best way possible, relishing in the great pleasure of stripping him out of his Hungarian kit so she can push him down on the bed and straddle him to take charge. He tries to distract her with kisses along her neck, stopping only when her hands wind his behind his back with the captain’s band he’d brought back. He hisses at the feeling of being restrained, wanting to be free to touch her.

“Nuh uh,” comes her cruel reply. She’s wearing the bright colours of her national team jersey in the skimpiest pair of panties he’d ever seen, and there’s a damp spot already forming along the centre of it.

His mouth waters - gaze skimming down the curves of her body as she shifts back, admiring her pretty face that now dips down to mouth over his hard cock with lips so sinful and supple. A rough sound tears itself from his throat - he can’t help it, twitching and struggling against her relentless cruelty. She’d been merciful to leave his mouth alone - not gagged, because she wants to hear how gruff he gets, how his moans fill the space of their bedroom.

“And what does this captain have to say,” she murmurs, tongue swiping at the bead of precum that already gathers at the tip of his cock because he’s so turned on, “about your spectacular loss against us, hm?”

He growls, straining up into her mouth when she takes his cock now, wrapping around it with tight, enclosed lips, teasing him with her tongue and the playful edge of humiliation that he can’t get enough of. The shame burns in his cheeks - he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting they were the poorer side.

“Your boys were cheats,” he grits out, a grimace on his face as she cups his balls and rolls them in her skilful hands. He feels them tighten up - so close, so eager. Wanting just a bit more friction, more of her touch and that wet, hot suction so he can -

She pulls her hand away, indignation all over her face. “We played fair,” she huffs, before adding with a smirk. “You’re the ones who played dirty.”

The word in her accent is a goddamn mindfuck. He can’t handle the way her hot breath brushes against his oversensitive dick before she takes him into her mouth again, swallowing around him, making him struggle with the need to stop her before he’s driven over the edge. He makes pathetic little sounds of protest because words fail him when she gets like this - so indecently smug, especially when she pops her mouth off his cock with an obscene final suck that definitely takes years off his life. He’s helpless - watching her climb into his lap now, her breasts in his face that he can’t stop staring at - the soft swells enticing enough for his cock to throb again, painful and aching. He struggles against the captain’s band that now restrains him - wishing he could touch her. Wishing he had been good and worthy.

She sits atop his erection now, pressing the satin of her underwear against his hardness. He can feel how wet she is already - how searingly hot her cunt is when she’s trapping him like this. Her hands are on his chest, and he grows momentarily distracted as she caresses him, runs fingers over the smoothness of him, over the taut muscles of his body, his pretty tattoos.

He whimpers at the pleasure of her touch on him, almost wanting to close his eyes to bask in it, to soak it right up.

But, as he well knows, pleasure with her is always meted out with a little bit of cruelty.

Her fingers now wander to the silver chain he wears around his neck, and his eyes fly open in surprise. She fiddles with the heaviness of it, playfully twisting her fingers in it, over and over until the chain tightens and bites into the skin of his neck. “Such a shame,” she drawls, “you don’t know how to play fair.”

She could choke him, if she so wanted. And he might even beg for it.

Dominik licks his bottom lip, eager. Barely restraining himself. She’s got his fullest attention now.

So she starts talking, and he feels a different kind of pleasure altogether. She’s ruthless - cutting sharply through each element of his game, detailing aspects of tactics he himself didn’t even think twice about, let alone be able to convey with such clarity. In one fell swoop, she dissects his team’s weaknesses, picking out things that even his coach didn’t cover, while they were being berated on the way back to the hotel. He grows hot at the shame that wells up, the attraction he feels towards her spiralling manically out of control now at how articulate she is, how clever she gets about all this. How much she loves the game even more than he does. How closely she’s paid attention.

How lucky he is to have her.

“Like I said, Domi…” she murmurs now, keeping the chain just a tad too tight until his mouth drops open in excitement, as her eyes meet his with purposeful, seductive intent, and her hips roll over his cock that aches, that throbs, “such dirty. fucking. cheats.”

He gasps and stiffens, a wild, desperate look flashing in his eyes as he comes, hard, all over their entwined bodies, right between the juncture of her sweet thighs.

He looks so beautiful - shaking endlessly with shameful, broken moans, while she giggles at the warm, wet mess, and all the power he affords her tonight.

This man will definitely be the death of me. Can you tell I’m not okay about him??? Many thanks to @emilielfc and @percervall for sending me so much brainrot about him 🥰.

Hope you enjoyed this - and feel free to send me more captain band kink scenarios!

love, ives

#oh my god #i felt things😭#rec: dominik szoboszlai #rec: smut

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gabisvt · 1 year

Text

Another Round? | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: One conversation about your sexual desires leads you bent sideways with the last person you expected.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT (18+), minors DNI, partying, mention of fwb content

Note: Kind of a bit rushed and ahhh, I may end up doing some edits later.

You weren’t supposed to be in this position: head resting on his bare chest while his arm skimmed your waist. It all happened too fast. You knew the saying, “one thing leads to another,” but you never expected to find yourself a victim to those words. You thought it was a fluke, that if you ever found yourself in that position you would resist it.

But here you were nonetheless. Having slept with the man no one—least of all, you—expected.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Brie screamed, drawing you in for a hug. She was hosting a last-minute party as the summer holiday was slowly coming to a break. Her and your close friends were invited to come to her beach house for the weekend, although you weren’t entirely sure how long you were planning on staying.

It was the first time most of you were together after university had let out. Although many of you were close enough for shared vacations and had been on some together already, it was hard to get the entire friend group together, dates often overlapping with other events.

You gave Brie a smile while scoping out the set up. Brie’s family owned a private area of the beach, the sand and water only a few steps off of her backyard deck. She had already laid logs in a circle around the soon-to-be bonfire.

Hearing raucous, you turn towards the noise and see a car pulling in. Brie chuckles, “That must be Jude and Trent.”

You didn’t share many classes with either of them, but they were in the friend group, always loud and present. Jude was the newest addition, a teammate of Trent’s that he would drag to parties. Jude was much younger than the rest of you all, you often joked about his age while he would just roll his eyes.

Trent on the other hand, was much more private. He could be rowdy with the group sometimes but also very reserved to himself. The two of you were never super close like he was with others. Only friends with two entirely different lifestyles who made small talk. Trent lived for parties and football while you would be locked up in the studio working on a new canvas. The only parties you went to were the ones Brie and the others hosted.

“Hey!” Jude yells, gaining your attention. You expected to see Trent coming out of the driver’s side but it’s Jude.

You beam, “Long time no see, strangers.”

Trent wears dark, circled shades so you can’t make out if he’s looking at you when he looks in your direction. A small smile tugs to his lips as the gold necklace around his neck shines above his black button-up. Jude, on the other hand, wore bright red swimming trunks and a black tank that hugged him tight.

“Nice to see you again,” he pulls you close to him briefly, then turns around and tosses Trent the car keys.

Breaking the ice, you force out a chuckle in Trent’s direction as he gives you a one-armed hug, “You let him drive?”

“He needed the practice,” Trent shrugs, his arm sliding off of your shoulders once you remove yours from his waist. “He may not have a license, but I don’t have a car right now.”

You furrow your brows, suddenly confused, “Where’s yours?”

“I sold it.”

“But you promised you would let me drive it!” you exclaim. It was true, he had a Lamborghini that he was ‘borrowing’ from his uncle, but then later admitted it was his car. He had let a couple of his friends drive it and once it was supposed to be your turn, he said it was getting too late and that he should head home.

Trent only smiles, “You can drive the next car.”

“Is it a Lambo?”

“No,” he says, walking towards the house.

You let out a small sound of defeat, not at all that entirely upset, but you would’ve loved to be behind the wheel of that car. Following Trent silently, you get a whiff of his cologne. The smell intoxicates your senses and somehow also relieves the tension in your shoulders. Once you two make it further into the kitchen of the house, Jude comes by and slings his arm over you, handing you an alcoholic can.

“Oh I’m not drinking tonight,” you refuse, laughing as he takes a gulp. You raise a brow, “Aren’t you too young?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know I’m not.” He tucks the other can into his armpit, taking another gulp, “I’m planning on getting fucked up.”

“So you’re staying the night?”

He nods, “Mm-hmm, just tonight. I can’t stay tomorrow night—family stuff.”

“You’re taking Trent back then?”

He shrugs, “Don’t know. He wants to stay all three days, but I told him I can’t take him home so we’ll see.”

“Okay, try not to get wasted before the party starts,” you smirk, pulling away from him. Jude gives you a boyish grin as you walk away to help out Brie. Trent leans against the kitchen island, peeking through the tins of food. He catches you walking past, sending you a soft smile. His shades now abandoned, hanging against the buttons of his shirt.

---

As more and more people arrived—university and childhood friends alike—the looser you became. You were still sipping on a soda as you swayed to the music, you all moving closer to the beach. Not everyone was expected to stay the night, and the ones that were, seemed to be the most buzzed. Jude had to be hauled out of the beach multiple times and be kept under the supervision of you all.

You had lost track of Trent, in all honesty, not even looking for him but once you noticed he was missing, you were curious. He had never crossed your mind before, but now that he wasn’t in your line of sight, suddenly you were—what? Making sure he hadn’t left? Hadn’t taken off without telling you his goodbyes?

Usually, if he were to leave the room, you weren’t immediately thinking of him like you were now.

The beach was only lit from the bonfire and the lights that showcased through the windows of the house. The deck and pool were also illuminated as you walked towards the house. You wanted a new soda anyway.

As you mingled with a couple of friends on your way there, you spotted Trent on the edge of the deck near the ice chests. Of course. You make your way towards him, tossing the empty can into a bin and then giving him a timid smile once he turns your way.

“Have you seen Jude?” he asks, bending down to open the cooler for you. You pick another drink and then stand up, cracking it open.

“Last I saw him, he was puking by the fire.”

Trent shakes his head with disapproval, “That kid.”

“What? Are you on babysitting duty?”

He chuckles, “No. I have his keys anyway.”

You watch as he swings his soda in his hand, staring around at the crowd. He seemed a mixture of uninterested and very nonchalant as he looked all around you. You give him a meek smile although he doesn’t catch it, “Are you going to go by the bonfire?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, pointing towards it, “Well I’m going to go.”

“Have fun,” he voices aloof.

Asshole.

That was the kind of Trent you were more used to. Few words towards you. Either lively or withering, never in between. Feeling embarrassed for evening caring, you pull out your phone and text someone you swore to let go of months ago, but you needed an outlet for a few minutes.

A couple of hours pass as you find yourself in the pool with Brie and Jude, his eyes are brimmed red while he sings loudly in your ear. He keeps swaying side to side, making water slap against your cheek.

“Jude,” you scold.

“Sorry, love,” he slurs, giggling and then turning towards Brie to serenade her.

You laugh, scrolling through Brie’s phone to queue the next song. Your own phone is in your other hand, dangerously filled with water droplets. It buzzes and you squint to make out the blurry text:

Sorry, not making it tonight.

You groan, Jude suddenly turning towards you but you are quick to lock your phone. You hand Brie back her phone, “Think I’m going to go take a walk.”

“Okay, stay close to the house.”

“Will do,” you smile, wading through the water to get to the other end. You dry yourself with a towel and then slide your cover up back on before rolling your eyes as you reread the text message. Making your way to the boardwalk, you don’t notice Trent leaning against the wooden frame until he’s a step in front of you.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you grumble. You walk past him, slipping your phone into your pocket. The bottom of his shoes scrape against the wood as he follows you.

“Who texted?”

“No one.”

Trent chuckles, “You seem upset.”

“I’m not,” you grit your teeth. The boardwalk led up to the small lot reserved for cars, your own car being one of them. You hadn’t necessarily meant to walk towards them, but you were suddenly thankful that you had left your car keys in the pocket of your cover up.

“Are you leaving?”

“No.”

“But your car is—”

“I’m not leaving, Trent.” Trent’s skin glows dimly from the fire off in the distance although the both of you are too far to be seen from the house and beach. You lean against your car door and fold your arms, “I needed some space.”

The muscles of his arms grow as he folds them, shifting his weight to one leg. A smirk crawls onto his face as he swipes his bottom lip with his thumb, “Ah, I know what you were up to.”

You roll your eyes, still somewhat annoyed that he was still here pestering you—especially after you had left him alone when he was practically begging for silence earlier. “What was I up to then?”

“You were on your way to see someone.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were,” he repeats. “You’re disappointed because they said no.”

You want to roll your eyes but don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right because that’s exactly what you did. They were supposed to be at the party anyway, but didn’t feel like making the hour-long drive towards the beach at the last minute. As if the drive was so long anyway.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Since you seem to know the answer to your question, why ask then?” you ask in vexation. Trent was loving it, pleased to have pressed your buttons and guess correctly, though it was never a competition in his eyes.

The smirk he wears slowly fades as a moment of silence passes. He makes a noise with his lips before he speaks, “I don’t know…was wondering what they had that wasn’t already here.”

You shake your head, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“What conversation?”

“You’re doing a lot right now,” you wave him off, grabbing a hold of the keys in your pocket and unlocking the car.

“Oh come on,” he deflates. “I’m kidding around, I’m sorry.” Opening the door, you hop in while he steps forward, “Wait—I really didn’t mean it, Y/N.”

You chew on your bottom lip as he keeps the door pried open, his hand wrapped on top of it. He’s staring down at you, waiting for your response.

“Get in the damn car then.”

“Are you serious?” he hesitates.

“If you ask me another question, Trent, I seriously think I’m going to lose it,” you warn. He only lets out a snort, shutting your door and walking around to the other end. His black shirt flaps open as he walks across the front, him sporting the same blank tank as Jude underneath.

He hops into the passenger seat, flashing you a nervous look as you turn on your car, “Don’t kill me now.”

“You willingly drove with Jude,” you retorted, letting out a smile to lose some of the tension you were having. You didn’t want the entire drive to be uncomfortable for the both of you. You start the car and then pull out, Trent looking around eagerly. “Do you want ice cream?”

He makes a face, “Not really…”

“Well that sucks,” you look at him and he turns towards you. His eyes are quick as they scan the features of your face, subtle but noticeable. “I was only asking nicely because I want ice cream.”

Trent lets out a strained laugh, “Uh—I guess I can do ice cream if you’re paying.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“But you asked!”

“To take your order, not to pay.”

“It’ll only be a few.”

“Fine,” you concede, waving him off. He chuckles, settling in his seat as you come to the street. You don’t need directions to make it to the beachside stores that were ten minutes away from the house, having always picked up ice cream from the parlor late at night.

Parking the car, you turn it off and hop out, Trent immediately by your side as he looks around the stores. “They never sleep, hmm?”

You shake your head, “Not with the abundance of drunk tourists.”

“I’ve always driven past here but never stopped.”

“We can walk around if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“Sure,” he smiles, pulling the door handle of the parlor and letting you walk in first. You beam at the worker, immediately ordering a two-scoop ice cream cone while Trent orders pralines and cream in a cone. He ends up paying for the cones, making a deal with you because you put up with him teasing you.

As the two of you walk down the boardwalk, you point at items you find interesting or what he finds ludicrous. He stops at a bench that looks on towards the moon and dark horizon of the water and sits down, “So just to calm down my curiosity, are you ever going to tell me what made you upset? I know it’s not my business but I am curious.”

You sit down next to him, muttering, “You were right.”

Trent’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares at you, his jaw gaping wide, “No way.”

“Yes,” you nod, finally biting onto the waffle cone.

“You were going to leave the party to hook up with someone?”

You nod again, cheeks burning slightly while you were acknowledging your escapades with Trent of all people. Neither of you had ever exchanged these kinds of intimate details despite knowing that the both of you were having sex with other people around the university. For Trent especially, it wasn’t uncommon for your friends to tease him about a fresh, new hickey on him at times.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs. “That I was right about that.”

“Don’t act surprised as if you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

“I would probably do it with someone at the party, not drive to them,” he exasperates. “I would never drive.”

“I know, that’s why the girl always has to drive and it’s annoying,” you lean up against the bench, folding one of your legs on top of the other. “Then you guys think we’re the desperate ones, but the truth is you all are lazy.”

He shakes his head, “No no, not entirely true. I’ve driven to them before, but I mean there were a bunch of people at the party, Y/N! Why couldn’t you have just had sex with someone there?”

You shrug, you hadn’t thought of it. You had a small fear of getting caught, but then you also wondered where exactly you would have sex with someone at. It didn’t help that you knew almost everyone at that party in some kind of way, so it wasn’t the first idea you thought of.

“How far was the drive?” he grills.

“Still with the questions, Trent,” you tease. “A little under an hour.”

“Oh my!” he exclaims. “You were going to drive all the way over there for what?”

“It’s just easier when you already know the person,” you defend. “Have you never had casual sex?”

“I have,” he turns your way, “I’m just shocked, I can’t lie.”

You have heard this story before. No one ever expected you to be having sex with men regularly, making it seem like you had so many partners when you didn’t.

You try to bite your tongue but fail, “And then that’s another thing. Everyone sees me as some innocent girl who has no idea what she’s doing when I do. It’s like they’re intrigued with corrupting me and trying to ‘break me,’ and then when they figure out that I do know what I’m doing, they get all butt hurt.”

Trent’s eyes grow wide, the cone almost slipping out of his grip as he listens to you.

“Men have the worst egos, getting so upset that they don’t last long, so I can never have my way, and always have to let them be in control,” you rant. “They’re so fragile! I mean it’s not a bad thing you can’t last for a couple of minutes if the other person knows what they’re doing—it’s the reaction you guys have afterward.”

Trent puts his hand up in the air to slow you down, “Wait, is this about the guy you were going to meet up with?”

You groan, “Him and others.”

“Then why were you going to go back if you know what to expect?” Although there’s a decent amount of space between the two of you, Trent still outstretches his arm on top of the bench as he angles his body towards yours. “Because you know him?”

“That, and I mean sometimes he lets me have his way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him an all-knowing look and he shrugs. You sputter out an awkward laugh, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

Trent was all for it, enjoying the gossip from an outsider point of you. He chuckles, “I won’t tell anyone. Come on, now tell me what absolutely kills girls having sex with us.”

“You better not, Trent, this is only now slightly embarrassing.”

He raises his arms up, “You have my word.”

It was unwise to trust him so quickly but you did it anyway. You sigh, “He would never let me get on top, it’d always be him doing the work, and then the second I wanted to take control he wasn’t having it.”

Trent frowns, “He never wanted you to get on top?”

“A couple of times, but then he would be pulling me off.”

“Let me guess, he lasted only two seconds?”

You facepalm, groaning, “Yes!”

Trent lets out a loud laugh, “Oh god.”

“It’s happened to me before, almost as if they like the idea of me doing the work until it actually happens,” you complain. “Then other little pet peeves of course—when they come first and just leave you hanging there, but that’s a common one that girls complain about.”

Trent nods, his face scrunched up, “I’ve heard that before—not about me though.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, I’m sure she has faked it before.”

Trent blows out a whisk of air, shaking his head adamantly, “No, no, let’s finish talking about you before we start with me.”

You laugh. Trent had long gone finished his cone while listening to you, but you never really had the chance to eat yours while ranting. Trent notices the subtle frown beginning to form on your face, “I can buy you another after this, or when I tell you my stories.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hmm,” you debate, reconsidering as a kind smile forms on his face. Well, since he asked so nicely. “Let me think about it.”

“You want me to toss it for you?”

“Sure, thank you, Trent.” You hand him the melted mess of the cone wrapped inside the napkin. He had always been thoughtful, attentive to his friends and certain facial expressions that he was a master at reading. Especially when you all were out in public, he protected the group and made sure everyone made it home safely.

He comes back to the bench, sitting a little closer than before and turns towards you. “Go on,” he smirks.

“Sometimes when men talk too much mid-act,” you go on.

Trent snorts, “Not a fan?”

You shrug, “Sometimes. I just wish men could read the room better, that there’s a time and place for it and sometimes we aren’t feeling it. But nooo, they keep on doing their thing, disregarding the other entirely.”

Trent can’t help but to watch your face contort as you talk, enamored by the way you weren’t embarrassed to share this with him. “Maybe you have had bad partners. You haven’t found the right person. Do you want a relationship at all with them?”

“Not him,” you cringe, earning a laugh from Trent.

“Are you looking for a relationship?”

You shrug, “If it happens, it happens.”

“So, just sex?”

“Not with every guy I see.”

He scoffs, “Obviously, I’m not judging here.”

“I only want to try out different things, is that too hard to ask for?” you sigh. You wished you had some kind of shame sounding like a horny teenager but you were fed up. It had been months since you had more-than-decent sex, one in which you didn’t feel obliged to follow their lead. You didn’t mind when they took control, but you didn’t want the same thing over and over again. Now, you were comfortable admitting what you did and didn’t want.

Trent snickers, “I mean personally, I don’t mind when they take the lead. Yeah, I like doing my own thing but—” he shrugs “—it’s not the end of the world. Do I come faster when she’s on top? Sometimes, yes, but that just means another round and some more foreplay.”

You almost hated the way the little light in your brain suddenly piqued with interest when he first mentioned that he didn’t mind giving up the lead. You couldn’t see Trent that way. He wasn’t someone who you ever considered sleeping with, especially when the two of you had never bonded like the others. He wasn’t someone you hung out regularly with, and so the two of you suddenly being closer would raise some suspicions. And goodness, why were you thinking this deeply about him?

It was never going to happen.

You nod, trying to remember Trent’s words, “Foreplay. Always important.”

“And aftercare.”

You stifle a laugh, “That too.”

Trent takes a moment before his next response, letting the sound of the waves lapping over each other fill the silence. Trent lets out an airy sigh, “Do you still want your ice cream? I reckon it’s getting quite late.”

“No, thank you for the offer though,” you smile. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. You grab a hold of it, impressed with the warmth and then let it go as the two of you make it back to the car. It was a much lighter walk, perhaps because of the two of you sharing a few more-than-personal details between each other.

He bumps into your shoulder, whispering, “Wait, so does this mean you rarely gave this man head?”

You laugh, “I mean, unless we weren’t planning on having sex afterward, then yes. Once he came, he was done for the day.”

Trent gawks, holding in his laughter, “Oh man. And you still wanted to drive to him!”

“Shut up,” you push him away. “He was my only option.”

Trent sputters out a laugh, “I mean, I wouldn’t say only option.”

And you knew the look he gave you, it was almost universal. The suggestive eyes accompanied with a small smirk. The two of you didn’t exchange another word as you got to the car, but the feeling was mutual and thick. The profound silence didn’t help either. You avoided his gaze like a hawk the entire drive, hoping that the party would still be at its peak when you arrived.

But it only took one look as you turned off the car at the lot, the party still in full effect. It was a quick glance in his direction, but Trent was already looking at you through a hooded gaze. If you held no composure, you would have jumped on him in a second.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“What?” he asks lowly, voice full of sultry. He takes off his seatbelt and does nothing else.

“I knew this was going to happen.”

Trent looks around in the car, his hand raising, “Nothing is happening.”

“I knew that as soon as I started talking about sex you would see it as an invitation. I’m not having sex with you.”

He shakes his head, “I never said that. I didn’t think of that either.”

“Then fix your face.”

“It’s fixed.”

You raise a brow while staring at him. The both of you were having a standoff, seeing who would fold first. You could lie and say you didn’t want this, but Trent’s cologne, his exposed chest, his hands—they were all drawing you in. They’d been drawing you in since the night started, only now were you finally realizing it.

Trent’s lips curl up, “I wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Oh shut up,” you retort.

“You talked about guys having bad egos,” he smiles, his teeth flashing in your direction. He was teasing now, enjoying the way you had suddenly gone quiet.

“I stand by it.”

His low laugh echoes throughout the car, and the sound of you unclicking your seatbelt is even louder. Trent’s gaze follows the seatbelt sliding back into its spot. He wasn’t going to make the first move, you knew that.

Groaning, you hide your smile with your hand, “Agh, you’re such an ass.”

His sneer only widens as he looks down at his own thighs. Your car was tall enough for you to hop on top of him hypothetically, but did you really want to have sex with him in the parking lot? Somehow, the idea of the two of you getting caught only intrigued you more.

“There’s more space in the back,” you suggest. “If—you know—something were to…”

Trent leans in slowly, his fingertips grazing across your jaw, stopping at your chin, “Ah, I thought you wanted to be in control, are you getting shy, love?”

Your face was the warmest it had been the entire night, not even when you were standing directly in front of the bonfire were you this hot. His delicate fingers press against your cheek and chin, teasing you the entire time.

You gulp, your breath hitching as his hand falls towards your neck, “Trent—”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Get in the backseat.” His fingers trail upward again as you feel his exhale land on your face.

“And?”

“I don’t know if I can go on top.”

He smirks, eyes snapping right back to yours, “Why is that?”

“I—”

“You got shy?”

“A little,” you roll your eyes. Trent only chuckles, caressing your cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assures. “Do you want to do this or not?”

Glancing down at his lips, you nod, “Yes.”

“I’m all yours then.”

Trent waited until you initiated the kiss. He didn’t want to smash his lips onto yours until you at least made the slightest of movements. And that’s what it was: teeth clashed, mouths hungrily attacked the other, while your hands searched for any ounce of skin they could find. Trent’s touch was still a bit hesitant, but once he felt how much you pushed against him, no longer did he restrain himself.

He palmed your breast, eliciting a gasp as the other hand of his removed your cover up.

“Backseats?” he groaned, feeling the growing tightness of his shorts. He only wanted to pull you on top of him, and finally let you have your way with him like you craved.

“Mm-hmm,” you moan. You detached from him and immediately the both of you jumped out of the front seats and went into the back. Because of all the talking you had done previously, the windows were foggy. And as the night continued, it would get more humid and hot.

Trent met you in the middle, gripping onto your jaw to deeply kiss you. The car was too dark to make out his neck and below, so you had to trace against the ridges of his abs through his shirt in order to find his bulge. He groaned as you made contact, buckling his hips into your palms.

That was all you needed for you to change your mind. You peeled out of his grip while his head fell against the headrest as you squeezed him through his trunks.

His hands were lost in your hair as you tugged his shorts down, he expressed a loud moan once you drew him into your mouth. Even as you continued, he wasn’t quieting down, letting you do whatever you wanted. A small light from the fire landed on his cheek, and it made watching him more serene as he contorted with each suck and brush of your tongue.

“Fuck, I won’t last this round, but I will the next one,” he pants.

You chuckle, feeling his hands go stiff beside you and his hips jolt. His stomach deflates as he spills right into your mouth, watching you try to catch every speckle of him.

As more clothes were discarded throughout the night, he made sure to kiss you in every spot he could, taking his time until he got you to hold him in a whimpering mess. Going back and forth between gentle and rough, increasing his thrusts whenever he knew you were close. He let you ride him for the last round, you bubbling with eagerness once you finally had his thighs underneath yours. Trent’s lips were attached to the skin of your collarbone throughout, his palms kneaded and squeezed the flesh of your butt.

He kept his word and lasted for those two rounds, just now finally pulling out to come in between you two. The car was sticky, the windows dripping with condensation as he pulled you closer to him. Your panting chest rested against his bruised shoulders—love marks and crescent-shaped indents from your nails that nearly drew blood littered his body. Your chest was nearly the same mosaic as his.

Trent planted gentle kisses on your chest and neck, his hands soothing along your thighs and waist. He rested his head against the headrest breathing heavily, you sitting on top of him with a lousy smirk.

That had topped all of your previous sex sessions, Trent was so in tune with what caused a reaction out of you versus what didn’t. He didn’t waste time in trying to find one, only moving on to a different area to kiss, tease, or suck.

“That was really good,” Trent praises.

“Are you surprised?”

“I’m impressed.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek, “I guess you can say I’ve had some practice.”

“Why not practice on me from now on?” he asks.

You narrow your eyes, a smirk forming as your hands rest on the nape of his sweaty neck. Neither of you had dared to move, still needing to somehow clean the mess that ran down the both of you. “What do you mean?”

“We have sex together.”

“Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your cheeks flushed, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes. If you’d like.”

You gape, Trent sending a teasing smile as he stared back at your shock. You weren’t opposed, not when your legs were still numb and feeling the aftershocks of what had transpired. “Friends with benefits?”

He nods, holding out his pinky finger, “Friends with benefits.”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” you tease.

“Going to be hard when you have me in a mess like that,” he chuckles, puckering out his lips for a kiss. You give him a peck and then rub your hands against his shoulders. You moving your thighs make the both of you groan at the throbbing feeling.

“Round four?” you joke, but once you look up at him, his eyes already gleam with a darkened haze.

Jokes were on you.

---

Returning to the beach house wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, although you did lose your cover up in the process. It was sacrificed to wipe off the mess of you two since you didn’t have a spare towel in the car. Trent’s shirt was black, so you definitely didn’t want that to be stained.

Your legs felt like jello as you made your way to the upstairs, every muscle was sore. Trent was some meters behind, lagging behind and trying to blend in. Your room was the farthest out of everyone’s, per Brie’s request since you were her best friend.

Sneaking Trent inside to the room seemed to be the challenging part. Glancing down from the upstairs balcony, you could see Jude immediately attach to him, asking him where he had gone. Trent shrugs and makes up a lie of grabbing his bag from the car, handing Jude his bag as well.

Once Trent makes it to the bedroom, the two of you share a shower. There isn’t another round of sex, just the two of you giggling with some afterthought shock. His grip never fell from you as the two of you slept that night.

The most unlikely pair.

So when you are the one offering to take Trent back home, everyone looks your way.

“He’s out of your way though.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug, “It’s fine, I don’t mind it. I know you guys want to get home and all, so yeah it’s okay.”

Perhaps you were trying to convince them a little too much, but they backed down soon after. Trent sent you an appreciative smile from the other end of the kitchen.

Brie wraps her arm around you, “Thank you for doing that.”

What commenced afterward still surprises you. Trent and you continued sneaking around throughout the summer. It was easy hiding it from your friends when they weren’t around, but it was difficult once your university classes started. Study sessions in the library were full of stolen glances, making excuses to leave early only for Trent to follow you afterward.

Anytime the two of you found yourselves sitting next to one another, his hands would be teasing your thigh. You did the same to stir a reaction from him, but he was better at being stoic. Stolen blowjobs, fingering, kissing, and quick sex sessions were common in between hang outs, but it was not only that.

Being with him switched from strictly sex and friendship to something much more than the two of you had yet to acknowledge. There were dates, days he had taken care of you because you felt sick, days you called him over because you wanted cuddles.

He often showed up to your apartment to ask about your day, wanting to spend time with you between his classes and training. You even showed more interest in going to football games that Brie had questioned you about because you seldomly did prior.

It was hard trying to keep the deal to not fall in love with him when he had made many advances. He was still very attentive to you and your concerns.

So when you finally told him about your feelings, you were nervous, expecting him to tease you about losing first but he was taken aback.

“I was getting worried,” he admitted, “I knew I had already fallen and I was waiting for you to let me down easy.” You were wearing his hoodie, a hoodie that you often slept in on the days he didn’t spend the night at your apartment. He was holding you in his lap, eyes full of admiration, “I think I fell in love with you the day at the boardwalk. I know we were only talking about sex, but something about hearing you talk to me without a care of judgment, it made me see you differently. Made me want to hold you and never let you go. You trusted me.”

You wiped the few tears that had fallen and he kissed your tear-stained cheeks when you told him you loved him. That night, making love to him felt so much more meaningful, more exposing than ever before. He had seen all the sides of you the past six months and never dared to run.

Despite officially now being in a relationship, the two of you still kept it lowkey without intending to do so. The two of you had been so used to sneaking glances and small smiles from far, and subtle head nods to signal the want of leaving, that it was difficult transitioning out of.

Still, one day it was going to come to the limelight, you just hadn’t expected it to be on your birthday.

“Oh my god!” Brie screeches. “You’re fucking Trent, aren’t you?”

You choke on the water you had previously chugged, coughing abruptly. Four of your other friends, plus Jude and Trent, stare at you and Brie in the kitchen. They’re only some strides away, lounging on the living room couches. Brie was not at all quiet.

“There’s no way,” one of them comments.

Your cheeks are burning as you resist the urge to look over at Trent to gauge his reaction. They all seemed to be stunned in silence. You wipe your mouth, “What?”

Brie clamps her hand over her mouth and pulls you from your wrist into your own bedroom. Once she shuts the door, she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to expose the two of you in front of everyone. I couldn’t hold in my shock.”

“It’s okay,” you reason. It was going to come out anyway. “We weren’t trying to hide it.”

She raises her brows, “Not trying to? We never heard a peep, especially me.”

“We weren’t trying to hide it anymore,” you say sheepishly. “How did you find out?”

“I saw a text from you on his phone the other day when we were studying,” she explains. “I didn’t think much of it and didn’t mean to look, but then…I kind of started to notice the way the two of you would look at each other. It was clear something happened and erm, the both of you came to the table with a hickey when it wasn’t there before you both left one day.”

You snort, “I’m really bad at covering those, aren’t I?”

Brie lets out a nervous laugh, “But Trent? How can that be?”

You shrug, “Your summer party, it works wonders.”

“Aww,” she gushes. “He’s a great guy too. I’m glad the two of you finally got closer together. I knew that the two of you would have clicked!”

Brie musters out a laugh as the two of you hug and leave the room to meet the others. Jude and Trent’s figures fall through the door, having had their ears pressed up to the door to listen. You roll your eyes, sending Trent a smirk before standing to the balls of your feet and pulling him in for a kiss.

As the others gawk, you wave them off. Trent’s arms are firm around your waist, not daring to let go. He loved every second of this.

------

#ugh this is so so so good #im obsessed a little #fic recs #rec: trent alexander arnold #rec: smut

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gabisvt · 1 year

Text

Freezer

Description: If you get locked in the walk-in freezer with your hot boss, you need to warm up somehow.

Content: carmy x reader (no use of y/n), injury(cut finger) and mention of blood, sort of enemies to lovers, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, use of pet names

Author’s Note: I need him IN MY BONES

——————————————————

It started as a normal day of work-as in Carmy was yelling, Richie was an asshole, and Sydney was solving everything.

It ended up being an intense day for an unofficial kitchen assistant. There was a large rush of customers at lunch, leaving Carmy’s veins to protrude as he yelled at everyone to make more food.

“50 more beef, 20 veggie, 16 everything chefs!”

“Heard, chef!” The kitchen chorused back.

He called your name.

“Yes, chef?”

“I need the two slabs of beef left in the fridge, and then you need to go drive and get more.”

“Heard, chef,” you say, writing the instructions down quickly on your notepad.

Carmy was already gone, at his station picking up the pound of beef. You stared as his bicep curved out, his hand flexed and gripped the bag. You were interrupted by-

“Chef! I need those tomatoes!” Sydney said. “They have to be in the pot in 5!”

Fuck-the tomatoes you were chopping for Sydney’s sauce before this meeting started.

“Yes chef!”

“And we’re talking about whatever that was later!” she said. You tense as you realize she saw you gawking.

“Syyyyd!” You whine. She grins.

“Get to work!” Carmy hollers from around a corner, and you dash back to the sink.

You had finished half of the ten tomatoes sydney requested. You picked up the knife and got to work on the 6th of the bunch.

You were mindlessly chopping for maybe a minute before someone slammed into your back, knocking you forward and causing you to slice your finger.

“Fuck!” you gasped. You whirled around to see who it was. “Say behind!”

Of course. Richie. He looked down at you and his lip curled.

“Not my fault! Pay more attention next time.”

He stalked off, rolling his eyes.

Whatever, you didn’t have time for this. Luckily no blood got on the tomatoes, so you wrapped the cut in paper towel and got back to work careful to keep that finger away from the food. You slid the cut up food into a bowl and carried it to Sydney, placing it next to her.

“Thanks, chef,” she said, checking the tomatoes.

“Of course, chef.”

“Whoa, you good?” she said, noticing your finger.

“Yeah, I’ll fix it after I finish,” you said.

“Okay..” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Be careful.”

“I will, chef!” You say, already heading to the freezer. “Corner!”

You reached the freezer and pulled open the door to slip inside, looking for the beef Carmy had asked for.

“Ah!” You jumped, shoulder blade hitting the metal shelf. Carmy startled from the racks he was leaning on.

“What the fuck?” He leaned on the door to steady himself; pushing it closed.

“Fuck-sorry chef,” You said quickly. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Clearly,” he groaned, tipping his head back against the shelf. You could feel the shame burning up your chest and sternum.

“Just get your stuff and go, okay?”

You nodded and leaned over, right hand on the metal coils as you looked for the beef on the bottom shelf.

“It’s right there,” he said angrily, gesturing to the slab. Great day so far. You cut yourself and now your workplace crush was yelling at you. Like you could focus when he was right there. You could feel his body heat.

You gripped the plastic and lifted the meat into the crook of your left arm. Hefting it up, you turned and reached for the door handle, avoiding eye contact with Carmy.

You pulled the handle. Nothing happened. What?

You tried again. Still nothing more than a slight jiggle, and the door didn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled.

“Let me try,” he said, moving into your space. His wide shoulders brushed against you, reminding you of all that manliness and what you wanted it to do to you.

You stepped back, the weight of the beef (and your attraction to Carmy) already starting to burn. You switched arms as he yanked hard on the handle, bicep and shoulder muscles flexing. He added his other hand and pulled down and back. Nothing.

This could not be happening. You can’t be stuck in here with Carmy. He’ll eat you alive, and not in the way you wanted. You couldn’t stand the thought of the cause of that twist in your gut hating you.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the door. “Richie! Syd!”

You both knew the door was metal, several inches thick. They’d have to be close to hear him.

You gasped and set the beef back so you could curl your arms around yourself. Carmy whirled around.

“You fucking locked us in here!” he said, pointing at you.

“Me?!” You yelled back. “It’s not my fault the door jammed!”

“Yes it is!” he fired back. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t come in here!”

“I was getting the fucking beef you asked me for!” You screamed back.

He was about to respond when you heard muffled voices outside.

“Syd!” You called out.

“Cousin!” He yelled at the same time.

“What’re you guys doing in there?” you hear Sydney say through the door.

“The fucking door won’t open!” Carmy exclaimed. “Get us out!”

The handle shook, then shook more violently.

“I think it’s jammed!” came Richie’s yell.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble.

Carmy looks at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back. “So can you fix it?”

“Um, not sure,” came his cousin’s reply. “I think we need to get Fak…”

“Fuck!” Carmy exclaimed louder, pushing his tattooed hands through his hair. “It’s lunch rush! I cant be stuck in here!”

“I’d also like to be outside!” You add.

“It’s okay chef,” Sydney’s voice responds. “I’ll keep us on task while Richie works to get you out. We won’t fall behind.”

“I got this, cousin!” Richie says.

Carmy sighs and leans his head against the freezer door, resting his hands on it.

“Good, chef. You’ll have a limited menu since our meat is in here.”

“On it Chef. We were due for a shipment anyway.”

“Thank you chef. An-“

Sydney cuts him off saying your name. “Just breathe, okay? We’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Syd,” you reply, feeling grateful for her ability to take charge.

“Oh! And I’ll slip a bandage under the door!”

“Ahhh thank you,” You respond with relief, looking down at the paper towel that was almost completely red.

That caught Carmy’s attention. His head whipped around to look at you as her footsteps pattered away.

“You good?”

You looked at him in surprise. “Yeah…just cut my finger.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You have to be careful. We can’t be losing manpower.”

You glared. “Richie slammed into me. My carefulness didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Here you go,” Syd said as she slid the bandaid under the door. “Fak will be here in an hour or so.”

“What?” you exclaim at the same time.

“Apparently he likes to go to a specific movie theater an hour away. I don’t fucking know.”

You groan along with Carmy.

You slid down to sit on the cement floor and set about trying to open the bandage, but hissed when it slid across your cut.

Carmy sighed. “Let me help you with that.”

“I got it, thanks. Isn’t it because I wasn’t careful enough, anyway?” You say.

“You can’t blame me for trying to keep the restaurant running.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Just let me do it.”

Carmy lowered himself to the floor, leaning back on his haunches. The image of this larger-than-life man on his knees for you made you slow, handing over the bandage.

He took it and began to unwrap.

“I know you’re careful,” he says into his hands.

“Huh?” you ask in surprise.

He looks up at you, those beautiful blue eyes upping your heart rate. “I know you’re careful. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Oh fuck. New reason why you couldn’t stay in here. You were gonna fall in love with him.

The praise makes you smile, and his face seems to lighten at that. “Thanks,” you say. “I assume it helps my case that Richie has a reputation for being not careful.”

He huffs a smile. “Maybe a bit.” He reaches his hand out gently. Seeing the veins and tattoos on the backs of his hands were not helping your heartbeat. Your nerves shake as he takes your hand and undoes the paper towel with the other.

His face hardens and you look to see why. The gash was deeper than you realized, but nothing new to kitchen staff.

“Fuckin’ Richie,” Carmy grumbles angrily.

“It’s fine,” you say reassuringly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He makes eye contact again. “You shouldn’t have to. Not in my kitchen.”

Your lips part in surprise, and you think you catch him looking at them a beat too long before returning to your hand. The fact that such talented, skilled hands were working on your little cut was wild to you.

A curl fell in his face, and you had to resist the urge to push it back for him. He was finishing up the bandage, and your mind screamed keep him over here.

“How are we gonna keep from freezing to death in here?” You ask, half joking.

He moves back to lean against the shelves on the opposite wall, legs crossed at the ankle. You immediately feel the absence of his hands on you.

He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

“All that means is you won’t notice when the hypothermia kicks in.”

His eyebrows furrow. “That cannot be true.”

“Yeah, I have no idea.” You respond, stretching your legs out so they’re parallel to his.

He chuckles, louder than you thought he would.

“How is the job so far?” He asks.

“Good,” you say. “Better than a lot of kitchens. Except when I have to sit in a freezer with my boss.” You nudge his knee with yours.

“C’mon, is he really that bad?” Carmy teases.

You think for a minute. “No, honestly. He’s pretty fantastic at everything he does. In appearance, too. I don’t know how he keeps those white shirts so clean.”

“I meant to be in a freezer with,” Carmy responds. There’s a shameful beat.

“I-“

“I’m just messing with you,” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, still embarrassed for your lovey rant.

“I look fantastic, huh?”

You squirm. “I didn’t mean it like that-“

“How did you mean it then? Don’t hurt my feelings.”

“Can they be hurt?” You ponder. “I’m sure many women have told you similarly.”

He shakes his head. “That’s probably the only personal compliment I’ve gotten in years. They’ve all been about my cooking.” His face is a bit pink now.

You rub your arms, the goosebumps a combination of the freezer and Carmy’s gaze on you. Speaking of, his eyes follow the movement of your arms and his jaw ticks.

“That’s almost unbelievable to me,” You begin. “That no one tells you you look good.”

“Do people tell you that?” He asks.

“Sometimes, I suppose,” You say. “When I look nicer than this.” You gesture down at yourself.

“You still look nice,” He says gravelly, crossing his arms over his chest. You have to tear your eyes away from his forearms to respond.

“Thanks, so do you,” You say lightly, hoping it’s not obvious how much you mean it.

You can tell from his eyes he sees through you, though.

“I know you think so,” He says lowly.

“Oh yeah?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah,” he almost groans. “The way you look at me when I cook-it’s so distracting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper.

“Yes you do,” he says, eyes hard. “But you’re so focused, and careful, that you never see when I’m looking the same way at you.”

You swallow hard. There was no way this was real. Carmy being into you? Impossible.

“Yeah, right,” You respond.

His jaw ticks. “What, you don’t think that’s true?”

“Carmy, look at you. Then look at me. Of course I don’t think that’s true.” You shake.

He pushes his hands through his curls again. His shirt rises up an inch when he does, and you can’t help but glance at the bit of happy trail-

“See,” He groans. “I cant think straight around you. Especially when you look at me like that. Like I’m worth your attention.”

“Of course you are, Chef,” you say, looking into his eyes as your voice went lower.

The name seemed to do him in. His frazzled look shifted to feral, eyes bright and hair in every direction.

“You never answered my question,” You said lowly.

“What question?”

“How are we gonna stay warm in here?” You say, tone suggesting there was more to what you were saying. “Because I can think of a few ideas…”

“Oh, so can I,” He said gravelly, dragging his eyes down your body as you rose up on your knees. “All of them require you getting over here.” he said.

Didn’t have to tell you twice. He uncrossed his legs, his perfect thighs framing a seat for you. Before you could sit, his large hands crept onto your back, grasping you as he put his face onto your belly.

“Is this okay?” He asked, tone serious.

“Yes, yes,” you almost whine, hands reaching the back of his head.

When you run your fingers through your hair like you’d been dreaming about, he groans.

This giant, muscled man groans into your stomach. You feel like jelly.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

You had heard about his nonexistent dating history. But you didn’t care.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” You say, looking down at him.

“No,” he groans, looking up at you, the angle of his eyes and his hands gripping you making you even wetter. “I want.”

You gasp and that reaction seems to spur him on. He slides his hands down your thighs and pulls you into his lap.

You groan quietly as you feel his cock through his pants, already hardening just from you being close. You couldn’t believe it.

“You feel that? What you do to me?” He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You think it’s true now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you gasp. “Wanna feel what you do to me?”

He groans in your ear. “Oh, we’ll get there.”

Then, he kisses you. And not a polite one. He kisses you like you’re a new recipe he made: new and delicious and ready to be devoured whole.

You moan and his grip on your shirt tightens like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. You tug on his hair and your hips involuntarily buck against him.

He pulls back and moves his mouth to your neck. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I could-“ His teeth scrape your neck. “I could say the same thing about you.”

His hands grasp your face and kiss you again, holding you and taking you.

You reach your hands for the hem of his shirt, needing something to ground you with the heat running through your body. As soon as you reach your hands underneath his shirt and scrape your nails up, he seems to go haywire.

His hands grip anywhere they can reach, your back, your hips, your shoulders, your hair. Not quite where you want him.

You pull back and he looks worried. But that look dissipates when you reach for the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“Oh…pretty girl…” he mumbles, hands sliding up from your hips and across your stomach.

You smile and reach your arms to the back of your bra.

“You want this off too?” You ask.

“Yes, oh god, please-“

Your thighs try to squeeze together from his desperation, but his hips are in the way and he notices.

“You like that baby? You like when I beg?”

You whimper. Oh god. And he heard it.

“I can do that, pretty girl, I can beg,” He says, his blue eyes in yours.

“Fuck, Carmy-“ You groan.

His hands move up, sliding seductively up your skin. “Can I take it off baby? Want it to be me that gets to undress you.”

“Yeah, you can,” You nod, unable to form sentences. He was gonna kill you.

He undoes the clasp on the first try, and his eyes get wider as the bra falls away. Your nipples turn into points from the cold freezer.

“Ohhh pretty girl, look at these,” he says in fascination, running his thumbs over your peaks.

The rough skin against you makes you moan, head falling back as he grasps your tits in his hands.

“So, so pretty,” he says, and then he scrapes his teeth against them. You gasp, as he continues to suck and bite at your breasts. “Wanna hold ‘em every day-“

“Fuck-so glad you like them Carmy,” you groan. “Please, please can you take this off?”

You grasp at his shirt. “Of course, baby,” he says, hair even crazier than normal from your tugging. He helps you lift it up and over his head.

“Oh, god,” you say, eyes widening as you finally see him in his full glory. Seeing his defined biceps next to his pecs and happy trail might knock you out cold. “Oh Carmy you are fantastic.”

That makes him laugh, and you grab his neck to kiss him again, and he moans into your mouth. Your other hand runs down his chest, dragging along the waistband. His hands grasped your boobs, and it felt better than you thought it would.

His desperation and muscle was making you soaked. You needed him to touch you.

“Carm-“ You squirm in his lap, looking for friction.

“I know, baby, I got you,” he says. “C’mere.”

He holds you into him with one arm, and you bite at his shoulder as he looks for the shirts on the hard ground, making a makeshift pillow for you.

He lays you back, and you watch him as he slowly kisses and nicks his way down your body, getting more teethy and possessive as he gets lower.

He reaches the waistband of your pants, and looks up at you for assurance. You look at the door nervously, and he catches it.

“I’m not gonna let anyone see you,” He says. “This is for me,” he grabs your ass. “Understand?”

You nod desperately and wiggle your hips.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Heard, chef,” you tease, and he tsks at you, smirking.

He pulls your pants down and over your ankles, adjusting himself to breathe over your thighs.

You inhale sharply as the cold hits your legs, goosebumps forming. Carmy’s hands soothe you, running up your thighs slowly.

He rubs his thumb over the wet spot on your underwear and looks up at you. “All this for me?”

“Told you you’d feel what you do to me.” you say.

“Ugh, pretty girl, you’re gonna kill me.” he groans into your thigh, biting down and you whimper.

“Please, Carm, don’t tease-“

He pulls your underwear down in one swift motion, looking at you for reassurance before pulling your thighs over his shoulders and diving into his meal.

You can’t help your load moan as he licks a stripe all the way up your folds, circling your clit when he gets there.

Your hands twist into his hair but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hands clamp harder into your thighs as your taste spurs him on.

“Fuck,” His nose- that perfect nose- rubs your clit over and over and you almost squeal just from the visual: his tattooed hands on your thighs, his curls in your fingers, his blue eyes looking straight into yours.

He pushes his tongue into you and your hips buck as you moan when he curls it up. The absence of it inside you makes you whimper, until his middle finger enters you and you really do squeal.

“Carmy- ah-“

“Yeah, baby, lemme hear you.”

He curls his finger and hits that spongey spot inside you, making your hips buck again. His eyes look scoldingly at you before he removes his right hand and presses down on your lower stomach.

“Shit-!” Your head lolls back. “That’s a nice trick, Chef-“ You can feel him smirk.

The pressure makes the finger pumping inside you pleasing in a whole new way. Still sucking on your clit, Carmy curls another finger inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-“

“I got you, c’mon, come for me, wanna see you come all over my fingers,” Carmy says desperately, and you listen, snapping loose and releasing all over him.

Your boss made you cum. Hard. Did you need to call HR?

Nope. All you needed was to see him rising back over you, kissing up your stomach and over your breasts.

His mouth was covered in your wet, and you grabbed his jaw hard to kiss him, your tongue in his mouth to taste yourself on him.

“Fantastic?” He asks.

“Fantastic.” you respond, meaning it. “Let’s hope Fak gets stuck in traffic,” you whisper into his lips.

“Why?” he responds, teasing. You slide your hand down his chest and over his ass.

“Because I want you inside me,” you say. He moans and kisses you again, hard, whilst reaching for the fly on his jeans.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he smiles into your lips. “Hands, chef, hands.”

You giggle and go to help him pull his pants down his legs and over his feet, kissing his jaw. You run your fingers over the happy trail you had been ogling, and grasp his cock over his boxers. He grunts in your ear, and takes your hand away.

“Gonna come too fast,” he says, holding your hand above your head and kissing you. “You make me crazy.”

“Same here, Carm.” You say, nipping at his neck. Your other hand teases at the waistline of his boxers.

He looks into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Carmy, fuck, please.”

“Good.” He says, tugging his boxers down and you finally get to see him in all his glory. God, you didn’t think he could get more beautiful. Seeing him entirely naked sent another wave of wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, Carmy,” you mumble. He slid his hands up the outside of your thighs, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“All for you, baby,” his hand goes to his cock, and as the head slides inside you your head lolls back and groan.

“Hey, look at me.” You look back up to stare into his icy eyes. “Don’t stop.” He says.

He slides further into you and your jaw hangs open, trying so hard to keep eye contact with him.

You both groan as he bottoms out, every vein and ridge of him inside of you. Your pussy is still sensitive from the previous mind-blowing orgasm, and-

“God, pretty girl, you feel so good,” he groans in your ear. “Taking me so well.”

You pulse at the praise, and he feels it. You feel his smirk on your jaw. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, your nails find purchase on his back.

He rolls into you, and it has your thighs squeezing around his hips immediately.

“Shit, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, Carmy, feels so good,” you moan as he starts his rhythm, every ridge of his cock dragging inside your walls. The cold of the freezer vanishing against the hotness of your bodies.

His forearm is on the floor next your head, his other hand grasping your ass as he pummels into you.

Your back scrapes on the floor, to match the marks you’re making on Carmy’s back.

“Look so good with me inside you,” he grunts and you choke. His hand on your ass moves between your thighs and he circles your clit.

“Fuck- too much,” you gasp, clit sensitive.

“You can take it.”

“Ah- Car- I’m gonna-“

“Me too, pretty girl, cmon-“ The nickname gets you every time, and you gush over him, squeezing around his cock.

He makes a choked sound and falls over the ledge after you, collapsing on top of your chest.

You both breathe heavily, you rubbing up and down his back.

“That might have been more fantastic than your cooking,” You smile to the ceiling. He chuckles into your neck.

“Heard, chef.”

You were both dressed by the time Fak finally arrived, half an hour late complaining about unmissable after-credit scenes.

Parting, you had gained a cell phone number and an address from Carmy, a kiss goodbye, and a “see you later” that promised many more.

#this one was so fun djdbsb #fic recs #rec: smut #rec: carmen berzatto

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gabisvt · 1 year

Text

Dating Luca (The Bear Headcanon)

Content warnings: kinda smutty 18+ only, explicit language, there's fluff too :)

A/N: Idc how much screen time Luca got, he has a whole personality in my head LMAO 😩 I hope you guys enjoy more Luca content! This is super short, but I had so much fun writing it 😄 My requests are wide open, so let me know what you'd like to see next! <3 If you liked this, please like/reblog! It means a lot! 😘

Summary: A short headcanon of what I imagine it'd be like to date our fav pastry chef 🥰

Let’s start with the fluffffff 😊

I feel like most of the reason we all love Luca (aside from the fact that Will Poulter plays him) is that he’s so gentle (but have you guys heard the term Stern Brunch Daddy?)

Let’s say you’re not very good at baking, doesn’t matter because he’s fully committed to teaching you. He will literally start with something as basic as baking a cookie from scratch and later making more complex desserts. It doesn’t even matter how long it takes because he just enjoys being around you :’)

Speaking of spending time together, Luca’s love language is defffff quality time.

When he spoke about learning from the chef who was much better than him (Carmy??) it made me think about how much he would enjoy just being around the person he loves. Whether you’re baking, watching a movie, or even napping together, the pair of you are like magnets.

He shares his love of food with you every chance he gets (he wants to combine two of his greatest loves 😭)

Going out to dinner with a chef is always a unique experience, but no matter what he’s letting you choose the restaurant (if he has to choose he'll just wind up cooking something for you at home since he can make it better anyways)

Thinking about how he’d definitely bake a birthday cake for you, spending hours on it because it needs to be perfect 😪 (he could bake a cake in his sleep but this isn’t just ANY cake)

He asks you to sample everything whenever he's coming up with a new menu item, he trusts your judgement and knows you'll be honest with him

When he’s working late, he tells you not to wait up for him (much to your displeasure) but every morning, you wake up to a new dessert in the fridge 🥺

He’s been doing it since you moved in together just because he knows it makes you smile (he’ll even leave little notes behind, sometimes silly, sometimes super sappy) you eat it up regardless

Now for the smutty stuff 😈

In the beginning of your relationship, Luca is SUUUPER shy. Like to the point that you have to literally spell it out that you want him to make a move.

Like Carmy, he doesn’t really have much time for socializing, so he might miss the cues that you throw at him.

The first time Luca spends the night at your apartment, he’s sure he’s going to pass out on like three different occasions

1. When you open the door, you’re wearing a satin robe that leaves very little to the imagination (He’s hard before he even sits down)

2. You’re baking together in the kitchen, taking every opportunity to bend over and "grab a mixing bowl", flashing your lacy thong in the process.

3. When you move into your bedroom because you’re getting “tired”, you ask him to unhook your bra for you, making a show of sliding the robe down your shoulders. And whoops! It just so happens to fall to the floor. 🤗

By that point, you’re done with the subliminals, pushing your ass back, feeling him straining against his jeans. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands (it’d be adorable if you weren’t painfully horny rn)

“Luca, you can touch my boobs if you want to, I swear I won’t mind,” you playfully tease him, shifting into a sigh when his hands immediately connect with your sensitive nipples.

That’s actually how the both of you found out that manhandling is one of the quickest ways to turn you on

Later in your relationship, he makes a show of tapping your ass (when it’s appropriate of course)

He casually shows his strength a lot because he knows it gets you going (thinking of him picking up those packs of flour 😓)

Both of you love the soft moments too. He’s a passionate lover, so slow, gentle sex is always amazing

Back to our regularly scheduled, fluffy programming 😋

Overall, I see Luca as a sweet, loyal boyfriend. The way he spoke about the chef he shadowed (again, do we think it was Carmy??) it seems like he really values the close relationships in his life

Of course, he values his relationship with you the most, always wanting to be the best version of himself for you (and vice versa) 🥰

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@wakandamama @wakandama2 @blowmymbackout @nolita-fairytale @douceurrrr @mercang @eddiemunsonreader @cryobabyy @superhoeva @kdoxkeic

#ok this was so cute and i need him #fic recs #rec: luca the bear

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gabisvt · 1 year

Text

Hurricane

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n.

Word Count: 9.5k

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick.

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons.

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.”

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile.

“Tell me something good, y/n.” Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good.

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died.

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him.

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen.

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair.

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.”

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.”

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face.

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind. She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part? She was enjoying herself.

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark.

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second.

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?”

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy.

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.”

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life.

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired.

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment, “tempting.”

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place.

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys.

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.”

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new.

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad.

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation.

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do.

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car.

“You good?”

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark."

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place.

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh.

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up.

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield.

“Thanks again Carmen.”

“Will your car be back tomorrow?”

“The day after.”

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing.

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation.

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed.

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.”

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable.

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off.

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment.

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to find his phone.

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories.

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave.

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out.

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting.

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over?

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in.

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?”

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically. “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-”

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did.

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously.

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief.

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?”

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly.

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed.

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing.

“Let me think about it.”

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance.

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant.

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow.

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly.

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office.

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned.

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence.

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.”

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.”

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.”

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him.

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries.

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n.

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n.

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?”

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen.

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.”

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor.

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.”

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver.

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow.

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k.

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her.

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways.

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n.

“What? Why?”

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not letting you do this unless-”

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good.

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer.

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie.

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen.

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything.

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.”

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.”

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do? Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes.

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home.

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose.

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute.

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived.

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.”

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.”

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed.

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk.

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible.

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk.

“Payback time.”

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better.

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now.

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun.

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk.

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.”

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party.

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene. Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself. Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.”

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes.

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.”

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups.

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together.

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what?

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes.

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something.

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”.

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful.

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee.

“Your past the counter, chef”

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter.

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath, y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter.

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm.

“Make it hurt.”

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie.

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought. Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible.

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter.

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men.

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?”

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside.

“A shot of water?” y/n offered.

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes,

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.”

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position.

“How was that, chef?”

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter.

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock.

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break”

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled.

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“I need to go to bed.”

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.”

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie.

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head.

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there.

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself.

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch.

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car.

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.”

“You need some sleep”

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her.

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered.

“I have a jacket”

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap.

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness.

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Aggravated Assault.”

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on.

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.”

#AAAAAAA #IM OBSESSED OMG #fic recs #rec: carmen berzatto

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