#custom lighting sydney

[bloomingdalesaus]

Bloomingdales Lighting & Decorator Accessories Pty Ltd was founded in 1996 in Sydney. Our aim was to supply the decorator market with quality lighting and select items of decorative furniture. The company has grown rapidly with showrooms in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth and Auckland. On display is a wide range of our product including furniture, chandeliers and pendants, table and floor lamps in classical, deco, modern and contemporary design. https://www.bloomingdales.com.au/

[becsabillion4]

false god (we still worship)

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary: Carmen has a bad shift, but you’re more than willing to turn his night around and show him exactly how good he is.

word count: 3,362

tags: SMUT, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampie, semi-public sex, window sex, lingerie, praise kink, vulnerable Carmy, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and yet again NOT an advert for safe sex. with that said, it’s fucking hot ;) and thank you to the wonderful person who submitted the prompt that inspired this, based around Carmy having a tough day and reader taking care of him (even though I’ve failed at tumblr and can’t find the original message). enjoy!!

thesydkid

Yo. Awful shift. Glad you weren’t here to see it.

whochefsouschef

fuckkk what happened?

thesydkid

Newbies think they know better than Tina because they went to CIA. You can imagine how Carmy took that.

whochefsouschef

was it kyle? he’s been like that since he started.

thesydkid

Yeah

Classic

whochefsouschef

syd?

I know that’s not all. kyle doesn’t warrant a text warning

thesydkid

Carm got food sent back.

whochefsouschef

shit.

thanks for the heads up

thesydkid

Good luck, cya tomorrow.

—------------------------------

It’s late, the kind of late where even the drunks winding through the streets have stopped their singing, the kind where it’s already too late to go to bed and get an ounce of good sleep. It’s the kind of late where you would have known it was a bad night even if Sydney hadn’t texted you first, because you know how hard Carmy cleans when he’s upset, and exactly how long that takes.

You sit up in bed abruptly, pushing your hair out of your face and considering your options. You have maybe ten minutes if Sydney texted you as soon as Carmy left, ten minutes to decide how you want to handle this kind of bad day. You feel a surge of frustration that you weren’t on shift tonight. As the Front of House Manager, you could have soothed the moronic, greedy, power-tripping customer who wanted to pull one over on the best chef in Chicago by sending back his perfect food-

Actually, maybe it was for the best you weren’t on shift tonight, or you might no longer have a job.

You smile when you think about how Richie will have handled it though. His courteous, collected energy even as he probably said something like, “Oh, you’d like to send this back? Wow, I’ve never heard a, uh - what do you call ‘em - oh, complaint before. Are you sure you know what this dish is?”

The smile fades when you think about Carmy’s reaction. You push yourself out of bed, decided by the image of his frustration, the anger he uses to hide his sadness. There’s been a few particularly bad shifts since you and Carmy moved in together - and Richie labelled himself as “matchmaker to the stars” for hiring you - and you know that if left to his own devices, Carmy will happily stay up all night stewing.

But you’re here now, and you’re determined not to let him. So you set your plan in motion.

By the time you hear his keys clink in the lock, you’re settled by the sofa, bare skin slightly chilled by the evening air coming in from the cracked window. You glance up as Carmy walks in, catch his eye, and he stops dead, hand still on the lock.

Bluer-than-blue eyes flicker across the scene you’re presenting for him - your best lingerie, your patient kneel, steady eyes - and he straightens from his tired stoop.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes still tracing how the lace drapes across your skin in the low light.

“Hi,” you smile. “Join me?”

Without looking away from you, Carmy shuts the door, drops his stuff in a careless pile. “Syd texted?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Carmy’s eyes drift away from you for a second, glancing around the room, like he does when he’s thinking something through. You can almost hear his brain clicking through the gears. Turning the kitchen off, turning something else on.

“It was bad, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuckin’ shitty.”

“It’s over.” You raise a hand to him, tilt your head towards the sofa. “Get over here and let me do filthy things to you to make up for it.”

He laughs at that, toes off his shoes and takes the few steps to the sofa. He doesn’t sink into the cushions like you expected though, but kneels in front of you. You reach out, run a hand over the side of his face, feel the days-old stubble rasping under your touch. Bringing your other hand up, you cup his face, thumbs tracing over the bags under his eyes like you can smooth them out with that simple touch. You can feel his exhaustion in the way he leans forward into the feeling, and it breaks something in you.

When you kiss him, you intend for it to be careful and slow. Bring him out of his shell, remind him that things outside The Bear exist. But the moment your mouths press together, the moment you nip the edge of his bottom lip, the drained and defeated Carmy is gone.

He surges forward, almost sending you tipping over backwards, arms wrapping around your waist. One hand slides to your lower back, stretching to cover as much of your skin as he can possibly grasp. Pulling you forward, Carmy bows his head to suck a bruise into your throat and you know for damn sure it’ll be visible tomorrow. A glaring mark, a “fuck you” to the rest of the world painted on your skin.

Your hands are far from idle either, and as one pulls at his T-shirt, rucking it up to explore the muscles beneath, you run a finger from the other over the arch of his ear. Carmy shudders in a broad, full-body motion and his hips stutter, jerk forward into you. You both moan at the contact and you want to chase it, feel him pressed between your thighs, but clearly Carmy has other ideas.

He reaches under your arms and pulls you up to stand with him, letting his hands continue their journey down your sides to reach your waist. All you have time to do is gasp as he hoists you off your feet, and he’s already walking towards your floor-length window as you desperately try to wrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe, the hand not holding you up pushing deep into your hair and curling strands around his fingers so he can pull your head back, press more kisses to the hollow of your throat.

For a dizzying moment, you can see the lights of Chicago upside down, but you manage to pull your head up just before your back hits the cold glass. You hiss at the chill against your bared skin and Carmy runs a hot palm around to your back in apology even as his tongue continues its insistent sweeps against your own.

You barely register the soft clink of his belt, the push and rustle of fabric between you until his cock is pressed close, the only thing keeping it from filling you your own stupid lacy underwear.

With a frustrated groan, Carmy gently lowers you until your feet sink into the carpet, but he still gives you no room to move, pressing you into the misted-up glass as if he can’t tear his body from yours.

“Carmy,” you pant, unsure what you’re asking, but you know he understands when he grabs your upper arm, spins you around to face the view. The glass is warmer now, but still cold enough that the press of your barely-concealed nipples to its surface makes you moan as you hear Carmy kneel, feel him sliding your panties down your legs.

He doesn’t even let them reach your ankles before he’s up again, kissing his way along your spine as he goes, and finally, finally, the head of his cock nestles in where it needs to be.

Its hot and heavy presence has you pushing your hips back, wanting to feel the glorious slide of him, lose yourself in the moment he splits you, and all you can see, eyes half-slitted in pleasure, are the glittering lights of the city below. You live pretty high up and the lights are low enough that none of the busy pedestrians below should see, but all it would really take is a glance up and an observant eye. To see your breasts pressed against the glass, Carmy’s possessive hands gripping your hips as he finally drives into you. Even from this distance, you imagine the pleasure on your own face and your walls flutter around Carmy until he growls, pulls your hands from where they were flat against the window into a bind behind you.

There is nothing kind and gentle about this moment, no give in Carmy’s body as he fucks into you, and you revel in it. Let him take his pain and translate it into pleasure through your body. Let him take and take and take until he has nothing left to give, and let the world see him doing it. Let them see what’s his.

These thoughts alone have you teetering, desperate for a few more strokes, but the surprise of Carmy reaching around to draw lazy circles over your clit as he snarls, “Fucking look at you, look how good you take me,” has you seizing up instantly. You can faintly hear your own surprised cry through the buzzing in your ears, and Carmy’s gasps as he feels you pulsate around him, but you only fully come back to yourself when you press your forehead against the blessedly cool glass.

The strength of your orgasm is enough that your legs are visibly shaking now, and without a word, Carmy bends to scoop up your lower half and pulls you in, cradling you across his front. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your breathing as you push your face into his chest, but before you can even begin to get your head straight, you feel soft sheets on your back as he lowers you to the bed.

He sinks down beside you, and all his desperation from a moment ago is gone as his body finally relaxes. He’s still hard and straining towards you, but the light has dimmed in his eyes, so when you reach for him, it’s to run a hand across his cheek, to bring his eyes to yours. When you move towards him, it’s to curl your legs with his, to press your forehead against his and settle his breathing with your own.

People think Carmy is so used to taking shit that it doesn’t hurt him anymore, but you know. You know how each word drives so deep that he doesn’t know how to take good anymore, how he invites the anger and the aggression of a kitchen into his soul because the alternative is realising that all the shit he’s been through is too awful, too devastating to reconcile. To keep feeling it, so he has no time to wonder what his life would be without it.

You see the weakness and the fear and the vulnerability, and you know how he absorbs the feeling and translates it into his work, how he uses it to fuel him, how he turns the criticism and the insults and the hatred into being better, being perfect, doing a good job.

“You are so wonderful, Carmy,” you murmur, and when he tries to look away, you hold his head still. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Shit, not really anything.” You’re silent, and he sighs as he caves under the pressure of your gaze. “Back when I was in New York, you remember that chef I told you about?”

You nod, because you know you can’t say anything remotely okay about that particular chef.

“He had this thing, about pasta. Thought he was some kind of expert because he spent, like, three months with Massimo Bottura. We had to boil water from cold every time, for every single batch of pasta we served, and there was this exact amount of salt we had to add. It wasn’t like a teaspoon, it was seven point three grams for every hundred of pasta. And he could fucking tell if you were off, he barely had to taste it. One time I saw him smell somebody’s pasta and tell them they were off by point two.” Carmy’s voice is shaking, and you move your thumb along his cheekbone slowly, calmly, giving him something to root himself to. Remind him he’s not there.

“And I was thinking about it while I was cooking the bucatini, and it’s like he was in the room again, saying the same shit he always did. Watching over my shoulder as I added the salt, and it made me so mad,” Carmy mutters, breaths coming in pants now. “And I didn’t even think, I just added like way too much salt. Enough to fuckin’ ruin it, ‘cos I just wanted to see him choke on it. And then I sent it out.”

You don’t take your eyes from his face as you curl one hand down to straighten the fingers of his, to stop the nails he’s digging deep into his palm from cutting into his skin.

“And of course it got sent back, and Richie apologised and comped their bill, and they didn’t care. But, like, I just sabotaged my own restaurant. My own reputation, becuase I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about salting pasta,” Carmy finishes in a rush, and he finally meets your eyes.

“Carmy, you’re working in a kitchen every day. It’s no surprise you remember other kitchens you’ve been in, and the kind of behaviour you’ve had to endure. But it’s not that kitchen anymore. This is your kitchen we’re talking about, your space. When you look over your shoulder, he’s not there anymore. Syd is, and she’s got your back. We’re not some pristine, sterile team with no heart. Richie’s there.” You feel a surge of emotion so strong for the brilliant, vulnerable man in front of you that you push your face into his shoulder, hard enough that he has to steady himself from falling back onto the bed. His other hand comes up to card loosely through your hair, and you suppress a soft noise of comfort to finish with, “I’m there.”

“I know, baby,” he responds, pulling you closer until you’re practically curled into his lap. “And I think it’ll get easier, it’s already easier. I just don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop sabotaging myself. I’m not like the food I make, I’m not composed and-and, perfect. I’m not, uh, not always good at stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re good plenty of the time,” you whisper, looking up at him. You smile as he glances down, catches your eye. “I could go on for days about the stuff you’re good at.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, down and round the edge of your face to the shell of your ear. You shiver instinctively, press into the feeling.

“You’re good at that. Good at getting me out of control,” and your voice is already shaking.

“You’re not out of control, babe. I’ve got you. You’re mine,” Carmy is muttering inbetween kisses as he rolls you onto your back, pins your arms to your sides with his legs and begins to fully slide off your lingerie, slowly, carefully. His hands are, as always, steady. You remember all the times you’ve watched him roll a cigarette, piece together edible art as flames lick at his chef’s whites, and you can’t remember a time you’ve seen them shake.

From the eye of the storm he’s creating in you, you watch as he slides down the bed, skimming his lips across your trembling thighs until he sits back, and moves his hands to your knees.

You can almost feel the pleasure it gives him as, at the lightest touch from him, you part your legs, let him see what he does to you. What he has done. When he growls, you realise he can see remnants of your earlier escapade against the window at your entrance, his come marking you.

When Carmy dips his finger inside you, your hips jerk towards him, but he holds them down with one hand. His finger delves deep for a moment, and then leaves you suddenly, but before you can protest, he brings his hand to your face, offers you the digit. You’re entranced by the silent command in his eyes, and with no hesitation, you open your mouth and let Carmy’s come-covered finger slide inside, press deep towards the back of your throat. When you swallow, the bitterness makes you moan, envision being on your knees for Carmy, his fingers twined so deep into your hair it hurts, feeling his white-hot heat at the back of your throat.

It breaks whatever tension was stretched taut between you, and Carmy wraps his arms around your legs, pulls your body towards him and lowers his face between your thighs. For a moment, he teases you, nibbling at the juncture where your leg curves into your hip, skimming his teeth across the bone, but you know he’s secretly just as impatient as you are, and when he takes his first tender lick across your clit, he moans even louder than you do.

Giving head is an art for Carmy, and feels like a privilege to you. You’ve seen him enjoy food in the kitchen, give somebody that blown-away glance that they’ve worked their whole lives to see, but he never takes more than one bite.

But this, with you, as you watch him devour you whole...It’s the only meal you’ve ever watched him finish.

Tongue swirling delicately across your center, breaking for hungry kisses to your thighs as his hands grasp at any inch of you he can reach, you can’t help the words that spill from you, “yes, yes, Carmy, you’re so good, you make me feel so good, my good boy, please-“, but you can’t continue as he slides two fingers deep inside your aching pussy, so deep you don’t ever want him to move.

At this point in the erotic novels you read during your lunch break (which, if Fak were to find them, would spell the end of your career), the heroine says something about how it feels like hours pass with her lover between her legs. But this is real life, and all Carmy has to do is mutter, “Finish for me baby, finish for me,” for you to come embarrassingly quickly.

You’re practically incoherent on the comedown, and all you can summon the strength to do is pull him into you, press kisses to his forehead and mumble over and over how fucking amazing he makes you feel.

“If you lose everything else, Carmy, if you ever think there isn’t a thing in this world you’re any good at, just know that you are a god at giving head,” you pant eventually, and when he pushes his face into your neck, you can feel his smile there.

For a moment more, you just enjoy the press of his body against yours, revel in the sweat and slick between you. It dawns on you slowly just how slick it feels, and you gasp as you realise-

“Carmy, did you-?”

Carmy laughs into your skin, tracing one hand across your chest idly until you shiver. “Yeah. You, uh, you were moaning and telling me how good I was and…it was hot.”

You laugh with him breathlessly, still kind of in awe at how well you fit after all this time, how at home you feel with him. “Well, I hope that made your bad day a little better.”

Carmy is silent for a second before he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do for me,” and you can see the shine of his eyes in the glitter of the city lights filtering through your window. “There can never be a bad day if I end it right here, in this bed, in your arms.”

You would reply, but he’s kissing you into silence before you can, and you wonder for a moment if any words will ever need to be said between you and Carmy again, or whether you can communicate all the fear, all the anger, all the love, just with kisses and touch and his lips against yours. But eventually, as you slip into sleep with his body twined around yours, you decide that tongues were made for more than just talking.

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[auroralwriting]

the master heist

con artist!bucky barnes x reader

bucky wants you to help him get his money back from an old friend.

warnings: violence, light manipulation, kind of dark bucky, based off of seb's movie sharper!

word count: 2.5k!

"What the hell do you want with me?"

You hadn't even learned the man's name yet. He picked you up off the side of the street after a very public and very loud fight and breakup with your now ex-boyfriend. He pulled up in a Mercedes, walking out, grabbing your duffel bag of personal items. He tossed it in the backset, waving you, telling you to come on in. So, you did. It wasn't like you had anywhere else to go.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked, ignoring your previous question. He was making himself a drink, holding an empty cup to offer you some. You shook your head.

"Uh," You hesitated, "I guess maybe Jurassic Park?"

The man raised a brow, coming to sit next to you. You tensed at his presence. "Yeah, good plot. Stupid people,"

"Very," You mused softly. "Why would you even want to go to a theme park with real dinosaurs?"

"And that man who died at the beginning?" The man nodded.

You turned your body closer to him, "Yeah, it was so stupid."

"I wouldn't know, I've never seen it." The man suddenly said. Well, wasn't he just full of surprises?

The drink in the man's cup swirled as he set it down. "You've never seen it." Your words came out less of a question, and more in disbelief.

"I'm not really a movie guy," He hummed. "And that's what I'm going to teach you."

Your eyebrow dipped up in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

The man gave an annoyed sigh, "I make people believe I'm someone else to get whatever the hell I want."

"So," You paused, shaking your head in disbelief at the current situation you'd gotten yourself in. "You're a con-artist?"

"No," The man replied, "I'm like, an actor, you could say. I'm not hurting people or anything."

Well that was weird. "I never said you did," You argued back. The man rubbed his chin with a chuckle at your reply. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"You've got fire, I like that." He acknowledged. "What's your name?" You told him your name, he nodded, mouthing it like he was getting used to saying it. "I'm Bucky. Look, I need some help. I can't always get the.. customers I need. That's where you come in."

That made you wonder what kind of gig this was. "What's in it for me?"

"Free place to stay, share of money, someone to cook for you," Bucky listed. "Want me to carry on, or do you get it?" Bucky's tone wasn't condescending, nor was it full of malice.

"Why me?" You questioned. "You don't even know me. Also, how do I even know you're a safe individual? You could be, like, some murderer who wants to sell my parts on the black market."

Bucky chuckled at your words. "One, I don't murder or even consider the black market as a viable option for my work. Two, I'll give you every proof of identity I have, hell, I'll even let you run a background check." Bucky paused, giving you a smile. "But, let's be honest, where else do you have to go?"

He was right. You didn't have anywhere else to go. Bucky was your only option as of right now. Plus, you'd be making an income. "Alright," You sighed. "I'll help you."

"My name is Avalon DeClain, I was born in Mississippi, moved to Pennsylvania when I was six for my dads work." You recited. "I majored in chemistry in college, Penn State, graduated top of my class. I have a dog, Sydney, a german shepard. I'm single and my parents died when I was in high school."

Bucky smirked, "What year did you graduate?"

"Class of '16," You replied. "Graduated college early by a year in '19."

"You're doing better than I thought," Bucky smiled honestly. "Really, good job."

You smiled at his words, a small rush of heat going to your cheeks. "Thank you," It had been a month and a half since you started living with Bucky. As promised, he took care of you. He was teaching you all he knew.

"What do you say we celebrate tonight?" Bucky offered.

"Celebrate what?" You asked, your knees pulled up to your chest as Bucky stood up to grab some drinks for the two of you. "Is it your birthday or something?"

Bucky laughed, "No, not my birthday. Just," Bucky sucked in a breath, "A celebration of your wild achievements. I'd say you're graduating top of my class."

"Well, I'd sure hope so." You teased as Bucky walked back over. He handed you a glass of champagne, his own filled with a dark wine. "I am your only student, after all."

"And still my best work," Bucky clinked his glass with your own as you both took sips.

For a while, the both of you talked and drank. Somewhere in the last month, you had gotten Bucky to actually open up. He told you about how he grew up doing this life with some friends. However, he refused to speak about one in particular; Steve. Tonight, things seemed different though.

"Look, we've been doing small stuff," Bucky started, his tone becoming more serious. "You're perfect at the small stuff. But, I haven't been honest with you, doll."

"What happened with him?" You cautiously asked, ignoring the burning of your cheeks at the nickname

Bucky's eyes widened for a moment, his face then relaxing as he released a breath. "I knew you were intuitive." Bucky sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Steve was my best bud. We did, well, everything together. Until, well, one big job we found." You nodded, urging Bucky to go on. "It was some old guy, Richard. We both decided to become his assistants until he passed; he was old as rocks, if not older. After he passed, Steve and I said we'd split the money. It was around ten grand each. I guess the old man also had grandkids."

The look on Bucky's face almost broke your heart. "He took it all,"

"Not just that," Bucky continued. "He tried to get me fucking arrested. Damn good thing I was friends with one of the cops."

"So," You began. "How are we getting him back?"

Bucky's face was a mixture of relief, joy, and passion. "I love that fire in you," He sighed contently. "Tomorrow night, Steve's going out on his annual celebration. Something to do with his work successes?" Bucky wasn't sure. "His actual job, conning is a side for him."

"All right," You reassured. "I'm ready for this. What's our plan?"

"You're gonna flirt with him," Bucky explained. "He doesn't have a type, just pretty girls with short dresses. You're gonna explain how you need money for grad school, and of course he's gonna give it to you. He prides himself on being some social saint or whatever."

This plan felt way too easy. "That's all?" You remarked. "That feels.. too easy."

"Steve's girlfriend, Natasha," Bucky sighed, "She's gonna be up his ass all night. You gotta find a way to get her out of there."

You internally cringed. Great, that was significantly harder than before. "What's she like?"

"I really don't have a single clue," Bucky huffed out. "That's the one flaw of this, which is why I need to be sure you can do this."

Bucky looked nearly defeated. It was obvious he needed your help, he couldn't do it without you. "I promise you," You grabbed Bucky's hands. "I can get you that money."

No, you thought. I can get you even more.

Bucky had no way of checking in on you to see how things were going. He left his full trust in you to not fuck this up. You could see it in him all day; he was stressed. His hand kept running through his hair, he couldn't stop tapping his feet against the wood floor.

You walked into the bar, a smooth, tight, black dress on, red heels to match. You looked around for a moment, seeing if you could spot Steve.

It really wasn't hard to find him, bright blonde hair, a boisterous laugh that was actually really cute. That was definitely the man you were looking for.

Bucky gave you a script to follow. Steve once knew a guy, Howard, back from high school. The two had zero connection now, but good old Howard was your way in.

"Excuse me," You asked, walking up behind Steve. He and Natasha both turned around. "Are you Steve Rogers?

Steve gave a smile, "Yeah, that's me. You are?"

"Oh, I'm Avalon." You reached out your hand to Steve which he shook. You followed the same action with Natasha. "I'm good friends with Howard."

Steve slapped the counter with joy, "Howard! I remember that son of a bitch. How is he?"

"Great," You smiled. Natasha scooted over a seat, letting you sit between the two. "He's got a wife, good job."

"That's great. I always liked that guy, such a good man. He deserves a great life." Steve gushed as you awkwardly smiled in return. You ordered a drink as Steve rambled.

You shyly began to comb your fingers through your hair as Steve subtly checked you out. "He was actually the one to tell me about you. He thought, well, maybe you could give me a hand."

The bartender slid you the drink, one you failed to catch as it spilled all over the front of you. Both Steve and Natasha gasped. "Oh my god! Oh, that'll never come out." Natasha gasped.

Steve quickly grabbed napkins to help you try and sop some of it up. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, just a ruined dress. I just bought it, too." You whined. In reality, this was all a part of your perfectly made plan to get Natasha out of there.

"Sweets, I'm gonna run home and grab her a new dress. We only live fifteen away and there is no way I'm letting her spend the rest of the night in a ruined dress." Natasha fell for the bait. This was perfect.

You quickly feigned guilt, "Oh, no. Please, it's really okay."

"No, I insist." Natasha said as she stood up, grabbing her belongings. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Stevie." Natasha left a small kiss on his cheek and rushed out of the building.

"I'm so sorry about your dress," Steve said, eyeing places it did not spill.

"It's fine, really." You said.

Steve was not subtle with checking you out anymore. "So, what was that favor Howard said I could help with?"

"Well," You bit your lip in a fake shame. Steve was quick to use his thumb to remove it from your teeth. "I have a pretty lousy job. I have this shitty apartment and a dog to take care of. I'm still paying off student loans, and I need to get my masters to get a decent paying job," You falsely admitted to Steve, batting your eyes at him as you sighed deeply. "I just.. can't afford to live. I'm eating a meal a day to afford dog food and groceries. Howard said that maybe you could help me out?"

You'd never seen a man nod quicker than Steve in that moment. "I'll do you one better. I'll help you pay off those student loans and get yo you paid off for grad school."

A gasp left your lips. To Steve, it was shock of his kindness. In reality, it was shock your plan worked. "Oh, God no. I couldn't ask for all of that. I was just gonna see if you wanted my dog-"

"Anything for a friend of Howard." Steve shook his head. "How do you want the money? Actually, no. Let me give it to you cash. You don't need to pay more taxes from that." You didn't even notice Steve had a briefcase with him. He opened it, leaving you in shock. You'd never seen so many hundred dollar bills stacked together before.

Steve counted out some stacks, making a pile. "I'm just gonna spit this half with you. Should be, ah, about maybe twenty grand?"

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. "Steve, I really couldn't-"

"Please," Steve scoffed. "I could make this money back in a day. I insist, you deserve a beautiful life for a beautiful woman." Steve's hand rested on your cheek as he thumbed it over softly. For some reason, his touch made you uncomfortable. All you really wanted was Bucky.

"I appreciate this more than you know." You sighed, leaning into his touch. "Thank you, Steve."

"It's no problem, sweetheart. Here, use this to carry all that in. We don't need you getting robbed." Steve handed over a large pouch from the case, shoving the money in it. "Get home safe, and give me a call sometime."

You nodded with a smile, but deep down you felt disgusted. You couldn't wait to show Bucky what you got.

"Bucky?" You called as you walked in. You walked in the living room to see Bucky jumping up from his seat.

"You look scared shitless, doll. What happened?" Bucky immediately rushed to your side. You hadn't even noticed how anxious you were, but it was a good anxious. "Did he touch you? I swear I will fuck him up if-"

Cutting off Bucky, you opened the bag to reveal the money. "He did some light touching, but I made it work to get you a little something extra."

"Ho-ly shit," Bucky breathed out, his eyes gleaming with disbelief. "Doll, how much is this?:

"Steve said twenty grand," You answered. "I thought I would play it up to get some more out of this."

Bucky looked to you, alarmed. "Did you let him-"

"No!" You cut him off again. "God, no. I just let him eye-fuck me and touch my cheek. That was enough for him. You're right, he is some social saint."

Bucky quickly scooped you up, hugging you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, doll! You're a fucking genius. You're actually fucking insane!" Bucky yelled as you laughed. "Why'd you do that? Put yourself through that for this?"

"It was for you, Bucky." You shyly admitted. "You gave me a second chance, so I wanted to give you what you deserved."

Bucky's hands came to rest at your hips as he drew you in closer. "Did you like the way he looked at you?"

"I only like the way you look at me," You breathed out, his face getting much closer to yours. "I just wanted you to be the one to touch me."

"Doll," Bucky muttered, his lips so close to your own you could almost feel them. "You're a fucking dream." Bucky pushed his lips against your own as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You sighed contently into the kiss. "Your dress is also fucking sopping the floors."

You gave a smirk to Bucky, "So take it off, then." He smirked wildly at you as he grabbed your hand, leading you to his room.

"Maybe I will,"

[angrelysimpping]

if i made it in time to request… may i ask for LIs reacting to a super badass pc who constantly gets into fights and isn’t good at socializing but once around LI is super docile and soft like a lovesick puppy?

Contents: Alex, Avery, Eden, Kylar, Robin, Sydney, Whitney (they/them); Reader (you/your); mentions of public sex in Whitney's section; mentions of blood and fighting but nothing too explicit

Words: ~ 300 each

Alex

Does not realize for the longest time. 

They think you're just the sweetest. 

Always hanging around you on the farm, making sure nothing happens.  

Tosses a bail of hay at you cause they just can't help it. They wanna see you squirming and pinned, needing their help. 

But you surprise them, taking care of yourself. 

That doesn't tip Alex off, though. 

Not even when they catch you jumping the fence, taking a solid swing at that one pervert who likes to catcall Alex as they work, lets Alex in on how much of a scrapper you are. 

Why would it? 

You're always so sweet with them. Always making them tea, sitting in their lap, getting pinned under Alex's weight in bed. If that pervert pushed you to your limit, they must have really been out of line. 

Then come the raids. 

And Alex sees a pack of Remy’s goons scatter at the mere sight of you.

And they can see it. All at once, they understand. 

Maybe it's the way you stand, silhouetted against the security lights. Maybe it's the cock of your head or the twitch in your hand as they form into fists. 

And Alex falters. 

Have you been hiding this from them? The fact that, well, that you're not just some soft townie?

Those thoughts, fears, of you lying to them dissipate as the night winds down, and Remy's goons are sent packing. 

Before Alex even gets the chance to question you about it, you're tugging them into bed, curling into their side.

And the tightness in their chest relaxes, melting against you. 

So, you've still got a few surprises in you, huh? That's fine. You're still Alex's partner, and they're yours. 

Honestly, they never realize you’re bad at socializing. Standoffish while meeting their family? Yeah, that’s understandable. Have a hard time talking to customers on the farm? Well, that’s Alex’s job anyway. 

Avery  

Avery took a gamble on you, really.

You were just so nice to look at, would look so pretty on their arm at events.

And then the way you looked at them, all dopy-eyed. A lovesick pup ready to do anything Avery asked of you. Yeah, Avery can work with that. 

Of course, your shit social skills are a minus. A really big minus. But, as long as you cling to Avery’s arm and look good, gaze at them like they hang the stars in the sky, then they can live with you not being the best socialite in the world. 

They will try to get you into etiquette classes though, trying to make you even more valuable to them. 

They find out you get into fights quick, idling in their car near the school one afternoon only to see you getting into a fistfight with someone who tried to grope you.

On one hand, Avery’s pissed. The last thing they need is their name tied to some delinquent. Also, what with your apparent prowess in fighting, there’s little to no chance Avery can ever put you in your place if you step out of line. It makes their rage simmer under their skin, knowing they can’t physically push you around.

On the other hand, you stomp that groper into the ground and then climb into Avery’s car and give them that same adoring look you always do. It’s hard to stay mad at you when you look at them like that. It’s a little soothing, really, you looking so soft and submissive, full of adoration. You wouldn’t fight back against them if they got rough with you, would you? No, Avery doesn’t think so. 

Chides you, wiping away a stray droplet of blood, telling you not to get into too many fights. It could reflect negatively upon them, after all. 

Will get upset with you if you ever show up to one of their dates with the evidence of a recent fight, be it something as large as a broken limb or as small as a bruised cheek.

Eden

Honestly, this is Eden’s ideal. 

Cute house spouse who does whatever they want? Follows after Eden like a puppy following its master? What’s even better is that you’ve always been like this, submitting to Eden’s whims right from that first meeting. 

Perfect, perfect little pet for them.

You take on your role so readily, following their every order, it’s really like you were made for them.

Of course, nothing in Eden’s life can actually be perfect. You have to go back to town, back to school.

But then you trot back into the forest every afternoon and lay on Eden’s bed, eagerly waiting to fulfill your spousal duties. 

It’d be great if you weren’t late getting home one evening.

If Edne didn’t have to stalk into town, looking for you.

To find you, surrounded by a group of perverts. 

It makes Eden’s blood boil, makes them want to forbid you from ever stepping foot back into town. You’re their’s, Eden’s. You’re too soft for town, without their protection.

And then you kill those thoughts, sending the gang running all by yourself.

It’s a bit of a shock to Eden, really. Almost a betrayal. This whole time, you could fight Eden off if you wanted to. It’s one of the few things they feel confident in, their strength. You’re able to fight off a whole group on your own? Yeah, no, that gets under their skin. 

But then you light up at seeing them, wrap your arms around their waist and apologize for making them worry, for making them come into town looking for you. 

Their collar is still around your throat, their scent still clinging to your skin, and that quells Eden’s anger and paranoia.

Gruffly says something about going back to the cabin, jumping slightly when you take their large hand in yours as you walk with them back to the cabin, back home.

Might never find out that you’re bad at socializing, but boy do they love it. You’re bad at socializing? Good, stay in the forest where you don’t have to try to bullshit your way through social interactions. Can’t make any friends? Good, Eden is all you need, anyway. 

Kylar

Oh, nothing is a surprise to Kylar, not when it comes to you. 

Kylar knows you’re a badass, that you’re always getting into fights and winning. If they’re honest, it actually turns them on a little, seeing you bloody people who try to grope you, knowing that you can protect yourself. 

Sure, Kylar wants to protect you, but knowing you’ll get violent if some pervert tries to grope you? It sets butterflies off in their stomach. 

Double so if you ever swoop in to stop someone getting rough with Kylar. Seeing you defend them has them pressed against you, mumbling about going somewhere private.

Though, they also hate seeing you in fights at all. They don’t like that there's the potential of you getting hurt. 

As for socializing, they’re thrilled! They’re also bad at socializing! You’re just like them! Also, it means they won’t have to fight for your attention, will they? Or, at least not as much if you were a social butterfly.

And then they adore how you act around them. All sweet and soft and docile. A side only they get to see, right?

Really, Kylar is going to match your energy, two lovesick puppies following after each other. 

Ready to threaten anyone who comes near you, naturally, even if you can defend yourself. 

Robin

You’ve always been so sweet to Robin. All these years in the orphanage together, you’ve always been kind to them. 

Then, their feelings towards you start shifting, becoming more romantic. They’re nervous as hell leaving their confession for you to find but then you’re kissing them in their room and they know they made the right choice. 

They love it, they love having you by their side constantly, that you’re an endlessly sweet person in this screwed-up town. 

So, it comes as a massive shock when they see you deck Bailey.

Not only that, but you drive the caretaker off, refusing to pay the money the caretaker demands of all the of age orphans. 

Have you…have you been able to do stuff like this the whole time? Have you been doing stuff like this? Fighting people? 

Robin’s never been one to gossip, they never realized you were the subject of so many fights around the school. 

But, well, it makes sense now why you were always covered in scrapes and bruises. Why Robin had to act as your personal nurse every now and then. 

They wish you wouldn’t get into so many fights but, well, they can understand when it’s someone like Bailey or Whitney. 

Just promise them that you’ll always come to them if you get hurt, alright?

Picks up on how bad you are at socializing and just rolls with it. They won’t ask you to do anything outside your comfort zone if you’re helping them with their drink stalls. They don’t mind that you’re bad at talking to other people, they find it kinda cute, actually. You’re all badass and great at fighting but then you trip over your own words and look at them like a lost puppy. They love it, they love you.

Sydney

Sydney has heard a few things about you.

They’re no gossip, but students talk far too loudly in the library. Even after Sydney tells them to quiet down, they still hear about how you wiped the floor with someone who tried to sneak a hand down your pants in the hall or sent someone to the nurse because they groped your chest.

On one hand, they don’t think violence is the answer, but, well, they can kind of understand when it comes to perverts trying to assault you.

They also hear things from Sirris, stories about having to give you detention for fighting with classmates during lectures.

That they don’t understand. It never occurs to them that you might be defending yourself in those cases as well, not until after they’ve met you at least. 

Your poor socialization skills are, well, it’s not completely lost on Sydney how bad you are at socializing. It’s just, they’re not great at socializing with their peers either. They don’t have many friends their own age thanks to their temple vows and being a teacher’s kid. So, it doesn’t really bother them. It’s actually a little endearing, your awkwardness. Makes them feel a little more comfortable around you, actually.

Then, when you’re actually in a relationship together? When you follow after them, lovestruck and puppy-like? They love it. Makes their heart all fluttery.

The more corrupt they are, the more they encourage you to fight anyone who tries to touch you. The purer they are, the more they wish for you to forgive them and move on.

Whitney

This is also Whitney’s ideal. 

Cute slut who does whatever they want and follows after them like the bitch they are. Yeah, that’s exactly what Whitney wants. 

Being shit at talking to people and making friends is a bonus. No one to try to get you to see the light and leave them, no one for you to hang out with except for them. They love it. 

Bullies you for it, of course, but they love it. They can have you all to themself and not have to worry about shit, it’s great.

When they find out that you’re a badass? That you could take them in a fight easily but choose not to? Ego boost.

Yeah, you just sent a group of full-grown adults running, you probably even sent one of them to the hospital. Then, Whitney gives you a look and you’re on your knees in an instant. How could they not feel like a fucking god when you’re doing shit like that?

They become insufferable after finding out you’d fight anyone and probably win. Especially if they can use it to their own advantage.

Also loves having you do something badass only to dom you after. There’s someone else’s blood on your face and you’re on your knees, looking up at them, ready to give them head. It becomes one of their favorite things in the world.

[cwritesforfun]

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: You're the light in the dark

Part One is linked here!!!

Masterlist

**TW: Anxiety & Anxiety Attack (YES, the plot has changed.) Y/N = Your Name

Y/N's POV

Things have been better for you mentally in the last two weeks. You wouldn't say you were fully happy, but you were calm and that was better than constant anxiety attacks. Graduate school and work were still stressful, but they were manageable now. Sydney apologized when you returned to work for giving Carmy your address and wouldn't tell you why she gave it so freely. She seemed nervous about whatever it was. You had to reassure her that it was fine because it was nice to see Carmy and he brought dessert.

It's another Friday and service is almost done. Tonight has ran smoothly out front and customers seem pleased.

Richie walks up and says, "Hey, uh Faz is going to sub in for you and you need to go to Carmy's office right now." You ask, "Why?" He answers, "None of your business, kidding. I’m kidding. Carmy ... he uh ... he asked for you. He's really anxious and angry and irritating. No one can be around him right now and he said you were a calming presence. I need you to mediate in this situation.” You reply, "Ok. I'll go right now."

You walk to the back and to Carmy's office where the door is open. You see Carmy sitting where you were just a few weeks ago and you close the door gently behind you. You sit on the floor in front of him and say, "Hey Carmy, I heard you asked for me. I'm here. I don't know if you need someone to talk to or a hug, but uh those both usually help me with my anxiety." He looks up and you see his tear-rimmed eyes staring at you. He says, "Tonight has been really hard for me. I've always had a rocky relationship with my family and it gets hard sometimes. I also tried to go to Alcoholics Anonymous because I use drinking to cope and I want to try something healthier. Sydney can be very serious and stuck in her ways sometimes and when I corrected her, she refused to listen. And some of the other staff just watched. I don't want them to think that openly refusing to listen to me is okay. I also snapped when some of them were just stacking dishes in a way that we used to do before we were more serious as a restaurant. I just can't take it when no one listens... except you. You're there and you listen. You're the light in the darkness of my mind." Oh??? You reach out to put your hand on his and he intertwines your fingers as you reply, "I ... I'm glad I can be the light for you. You mentioned wanting to do something healthy to cope with your anxiety. Are you free on Sunday to walk in that park by my place?" He answers, "Yeah." You reply, "Great, I’m completely free on Sunday. So what time works best for you?" He answers, "Um we can do 11 am." You reply, "Great, it's a date... I mean ... that is not what I meant not that it would be bad but I'm going to change the conversation now... And as far as tonight at work, you should go back and tell everyone that you want to have a quick five minute talk with all of them at the end of service. I can get some paper and we can draft what you can say to them. We'll make sure you come off as the leader and as someone willing to listen to new ideas. This should cut the tension in the kitchen and give you some relief." He replies, "Shit, maybe you should be the manager." You laugh and reply, "No I don't think I should, but I am studying management right now and I do know how volatile this restaurant can be at times. I know you're all very stressed in the kitchen and want to make the best dish for your customers that you sometimes forget how to fully communicate with each other. I understand that." He says, "I wish the rest of them were as understanding as you." You reply, "Thanks, but I'm not a perfect employee. I know that. I can always improve... so do you have pen and paper in here?" He laughs and gets some off his desk. You help him draft something to tell the staff and it sounds good if you say so. Your professors would be proud of you. Carmy asks if you can be near him when he gives them the talk in case he needs a mediator to which you agree.

You return to work and finish the shift smoothly.

All the staff file into the restaurant and are sitting facing Carmy. Carmy glances at you and you nod at him before he starts speaking, "Hey everyone, I understand that sometimes things can get tense at work and I want to apologize for my part in that. I realize that I may have overreacted in the past and I am sorry for taking it out on all of you. Going forward, I will make an effort to respond to situations differently. As part of my commitment to being a better boss, I want to ensure that everyone has a voice. If I ask you to do something a certain way and it doesn't work for you, please let me know. I want to be open to feedback and ensure that everyone feels heard. Does that sound okay to all of you?" I look around and notice everyone nodding. They all look proud and like they respect him for what he said. I'm glad it worked. Carmy exclaims, "OK, everyone can go back to what they were doing before and I hope you all get a good night's rest for tomorrow." Everyone gets up and starts chatting amongst themselves.

You stand up and say, "Chef, I think you did really well." Carmy asks, "Do you think they'll listen?" You nod and answer, "I do. Do you feel any better now that this conversation happened?" He answers, "Yes. It makes it feel like there was a weight taken off of my chest." Richie walks up and says, "May I ask, is this what you two were doing in the office? Because if it is, this little duo needs to happen more often. Cousin, that was great. Y/N, I assume you had a part in it, so thank you." You laugh and Carmy says, "Cousin, she helped me turn my thoughts into something more professional to tell people instead of yelling. And yes, it was what we did in my office. She's my employee, remember." Richie replies, "Good, I'm glad this conversation happened then. I think the staff needed to hear this... And, workplace romances can work between the right people. I'll leave you two with that." He then walks off. You say, "I better finish cleaning the front. I'll see you tomorrow chef." Carmy nods and says, "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N."

PART THREE... THE WALK... coming soon!!!

Masterlist

[infoactionratio7]

(you) on my arm - s. adamu

summary: sydney is at a wall, she has no ideas when it comes to the new menu at the bear. she decides to go to a bookstore for some new inspiration, she finds it, but not in the way she was expecting.

pairing: sydney adamu x fem! bookseller! reader

word count: 2,514

note: annoying! carmy bc he literally is insane, kinda fluffy meet cute vibes, reader just moved to chicago, inspired by the song (you) on my arm by leith ross cause the song is rlly cute! also sydney gives me sapphic vibes, she definitely would have a crush on a girl!

monday morning -

Sydney was pissed, she had sent at least ten messages to Carmy in the last twenty minutes. Some about the new menu they were working on together, some about the fact that he had been a bitch the night before when he kicked everyone out because Claire just had to see the new restaurant. She ran her hands down her face in frustration as she sat at her dad's kitchen table, the sun streaming in through the blinds into the apartment. It warmed the floor as she got up from the table, debating what to do. She had no ideas left, everything was either not working out, or it just didn't fit the menu for the new revamped restaurant.

"Sydney, where are you headed off to today?" Her dad walked into the room with a steaming cup of coffee, freshly brewed from a new coffee blend she had found shopping the day before.

"Uh well Carm is not responding so I'm gonna head over to The Bear and meet up with him for a little then see where the day goes from there I guess." She walked out of the dining area and put her breakfast dishes away.

"Okay honey, have a good day. Hope he stops being an ass." She laughed, "Me too... me too."

Sydney grabbed her shoes out of the closet she had thrown them in last night, slipping them on and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you later dad." She grabbed her keys, and started making her way to the restaurant where she could deal with Carmy in person.

-

You looked around the bookstore, you had only been open for a month but it had been a hit within the community. You had almost any book anybody could want. There were teens coming from the school a few blocks away to get some cheesy romance novels to bring to the park and read with their friends, and there were grandparents coming in to get their grandchildren a new picture book about god knows what. You even had some people come in and request books you had never heard of before, you promptly ordered two copies of any book you didn't have. One for the customer, and one for you, to read and explore the pages.

It was a beautiful space, tall ceilings strung with fairy lights and lanterns, trying to bring some sense of whimsy to the dull days in Chicago. The books were arranged in every which way, requiring the customers to truly search for a book they wanted to read. You had tables full of recommendations, from people online and the employees of the bookshop. You really enjoyed curating all the titles you had in your collection. Tourists looking for a cute little magnet or souvenir adored the hole in the wall place, a safe space to just cuddle up and read a book.

You had a few customers that day, a mom and her son looking for his first chapter book to read. You had suggested he read The Magic Tree House, a series, about a brother and sister and their time traveling tree house. There was a tall guy with a buzzcut, who said he worked just down the street and was looking for a book about how to get rid of mold in the structure of a building. He seemed in dire need of some help, so you found the best book possible, The Toxic Mold Recovery Guide. You had no idea you had the book but it was meant to be. He thanked you immensely, leaving his name and number just in case you ever needed anything. His name was Richie, he seemed pretty nice.

Low music played as you restocked a shelf, you hated the idea of having Colleen Hoover books in the store but they were a big source of income. They absolutely flew off the shelves. The least touched section of the store were the cookbooks, it seemed like everyone in Chicago was moving too fast to just dedicate one hour of their day to making a meal from scratch. It was disappointing, because you had a large selection, from Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child to Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan. You knew that someday it might come in handy and you would be lucky to have all the cookbooks.

-

Sydney walked into the restaurant in a sour mood, Carmy had still not responded to any of her texts and she knew he was here. She walked straight into the office, passing the locker room, sans lockers and covered in black powder. Richie furiously flipping through a book that said something about mold on the cover. He glanced up at her

"Shut the fuck up." She was taken aback

"I didn't even fucking say anything Richie," he scoffed at her

"Well I was preparing for you to say something dumb as hell, and you did so I stand by my first statement." He looked back down at the book and mumbled something unintelligible to himself. She rolled her eyes and made her way into the office.

"Carm are you here?" Turning the corner she saw the chef, surrounded by papers and various file folders. He had his phone in his hand and was about to dial a number, "You little bitch, you fucking had your phone this entire time." She couldn't believe what was right in front of her.

"What do you mean chef?" Carmy looked confused, "Of course I had my phone, I'm about to call the fridge guy."

Rolling her eyes she brought her hand up to her face, holding her forehead in her palm. "I texted you at least ten fucking times, you couldn't even bother yourself to respond!" Shaking her head she sank down into the office chair Carmy had abandoned an hour ago.

He looked around the room, trying to get her to understand how much work he had been doing, "Syd I've been trying to make sense of this paperwork for hours, I haven't had time to respond to your messa-"

Fak's head popped into the doorframe, "Carmy I got your text about helping Richie clean up the mold but he's being mean to me." Sydney turned from Fak to the red faced chef sitting on the floor. He had been caught in a lie, of course Fak came in at just the right time for this to happen.

"Okay fuck you chef, I'm leaving." Sydney shrugged, stood up and left the room. She heard heated words from Carmy as she walked out of the office and passed the locker room again, now he was pissed at Fak, as usual. She heard her name as she turned around,

"Sydney, wait a sec come here."

"What do you want Richie, I thought you wanted me to shut the fuck up." She crossed her arms tight and shot him a pointed look.

"You should go to that bookstore a few blocks down, I got this damn mold book earlier and saw a shit ton of cookbooks. You should check it out." She sent him a tight smile and turned her back to him. "Thanks Chef."

-

You had just finished restocking the shelves for the day when the little bell above the door rang. You went behind the desk and called out, "Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything let me know!"

You heard no response so you just busied yourself cleaning up the case that was behind the checkout, it housed all your special edition signed or first edition copies of books. It needed to be dusted pretty often because you wanted to keep the quality of the books at their highest, just in case anyone would ever want to purchase one.

You heard a thud come from behind you, and turning around you looked down at the counter. There was a stack of six cookbooks placed on the counter in front of you. Looking up you saw one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen since you had moved in to the city. Her hair was long and perfectly braided, her eyes a beautiful shade of umber catching the light in a hypnotic way. She had a grimace on her face, yet still looked stunning. You had no idea how to react, so instinctively you started to enter the books into the register as you made some small talk,

"So how has your day been," She sighed and looked up to meet your gaze, "If I'm being honest, shitty. My fucking partner wouldn't respond to my messages and when I went to talk to him he had is phone in his hand about to call someone. So yeah really fucking shitty." You looked back down at the book at disappointment, of course she had a partner and of course she was straight.

Awkwardly smiling you tried to think of a good response"Oh, um, wow. That's pretty shitty I'm sorry." She seemed to sense your disappointment, trying to save the conversation, "Shit uh, my business partner I mean, he's a little bitch sometimes. We're uh, opening a business- or I should say um," She rubbed the back of her neck, "We're kinda rebranding his brother's old restaurant, its a lot." You had finished entering all the books into the system, your chest had filled with warmth when she rushed to clarify that he was her business partner. You thought that maybe, just maybe it might be because she wanted to make sure you knew she was single, and not exactly straight.

"I guess that explains the cookbooks then," You looked at her, she had been staring at you in a flustered state of shock. "What, oh, uh, yeah! I'm kinda stuck making the menu so wanted to get some inspiration."

Sharing an understanding smile, you read her total out to her. She grabbed her wallet and pulled out some cash, as she handed it to you her fingers brushed along yours. It sent chills down your spine, no matter how cliche it might be, you knew that she was someone to keep close. Your face flushed red as you took the cash and put it into the register, printing her receipt and giving her any change she needed back.

You decided that since she got so many books you would give her a free tote bag, just so she could carry all the books out of the shop. You pulled one off of a hook behind you and started to put the books into a bag. You decided to quietly slip a business card with your cell number and a little note into a book so she could find it and contact you. A subtle way of screaming, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen I want to spend the rest of my life with you, without being too forward. As you finished packing the bag, the two of you both happened to say something at the same time.

"Do you wanna come see my restu-"

"Do you work at the restura-"

You flushed

"No you can go-"

"No you can go - sorry um. Do you want to come to the opening of the restaurant. It's uh, the one down the street, we're not opening for a while but, if you want to come to the friends and fam-"

You cut her off, wanting her to know you really wanted to go to her restaurant, "I would love to go... what was your name?"

"Sydney, It's uh Sydney" Her face got hot, nervous about the fascinating bookseller she just had the pleasure of meeting.

"Well Sydney, I would love to go. Just let me know the details," You softly smiled as you gave her the bag filled with books. She looked to you and grabbed a bookmark you had as a display that happened to have the shop's phone number on it. "I'll call you, um when we get closer to the open date, promise." You smiled, hoping that she would get in contact with you sooner than she expected to. She turned to leave.

"Thanks for coming in, really good to meet you Sydney." The door rang again and she sent you a wave through the glass, walking away quickly.

You were frozen, you had just given a random girl you just met your number, and had openly flirted with her for all the world to see. You crouched down onto the small stool you had behind the desk, tucked your head into your knees and screamed. You were feeling rushes of emotion and didn't think you would ever recover from that interaction. The bell rang again just as you finished screaming, you shot up and saw a group of teenagers heading to the new books you had just set out.

"Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything just holler!"

-

Sydney rushed back to The Bear, she was so utterly mortified, she had never seen someone so radiant and in their element. The chef couldn't contain her emotions as she stormed into the restaurant, Richie was the first person she saw, he started to say something,

"Not right now Richie I swear to God" The tall man was taken aback but threw his hands up in surrender, not wanting to get involved.

She might as well have ran into the office at the speed she was going, throwin the bag of cookbooks on the ground and closing the door, sliding down the back of the door she groaned,

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, fucking, fuck," dragging out the last word as she hit the floor.

Carmy stared at her from the floor a few feet away, "Yo Syd what happened to you? Looks like you just ran a marathon." He chuckled at the expression on her face.

"I just met the most beautiful girl and totally fucked up my chances with her cause I left so quickly." Sydney put her hands into her face and just sat there marinating in her embarrassment.

Carmy had some strong suits, his attention to detail one of them. He noticed something poking out of one of the books. He grabbed it, hoping that it was something that would change Sydney's mood before he had to work with her for more hours than they could count. He grinned taking the note out of the book and reading it,

"Hey Syd," He reached out to give her the note.

She looked up from behind her fingers, "What?"

He shook his hand, implying he wanted her to take the note from his grip. She groaned, then leaned forward to forcefully take it out of his hand.

She read the note, and smiled. Thank God you slipped her this note.

cookbook girl -

i hope you enjoy your SIX cookbooks, i have some more you could borrow for some inspiration. text me

Sydney's face heated up as she leaned back into door and scoffed.

Carmy had saved the day, one again.

[sydneys-adamu]

let me harp on the custom chef whites one more time because carmy,,, the man that he is,,, it couldn’t have been that long after syd had that dreamy look on her face at his new york chef whites that a light bulb went off in his head. this man had to have put in that request right away I mean thom browne?? that has to take a little while to get delivered there’s no way it was just a last minute whatever. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sketched that shit out and sent that so it would look absolutely perfect for her.

and then he has the audacity to be like “oh by the way I have something for you” to sydney like he isn’t buzzing about finally being able to give her something she’ll truly appreciate, something she deserves, as if it won’t make his whole week?? like sure??

the dumbstruck look on his face when she walks out of those double doors wearing them too,, put it side by side with the look he gives her when she walks into the beef for the first time, it’s identical. this man is insane.

[kittiesandkillers]

Nononono keep going I wanna hear about freaky kylar

Fine but it's not my fault if you're traumatized by the headcanons section.

Vrel said that Kylar is one of the kinkiest characters but they themself aren't aware of it since we're their first partner.

Kylar obviously has a breeding kink so I don't have to explain myself there.

Kylar is also strongly implied to be masochistic(to a lesser extent than Sydney, of course).

There are a couple of scenes that show that they're into some light knife play. The knife play becomes not so light when Kylar's at high jealousy.

The fact that they gave us a gift with a camera in it may imply that they're into voyerism. Not to mention the fact that they're a literal stalker.

The (semi) public sex scenes show some light exhibitionism (not even close to that of Whitney's though).

(High jealousy) Kylar is one of, if not the only character who has a somnophilia scene despite Vrel's comment about not wanting to add much somnophilia since they themself aren't into it.

They absolutely have a marking kink, it just makes sense. The scenes that imply it are there.

They might be a little bit sadistic based on some of their high jealousy scenes.

Kylar is a panty thief which means that they definitely have a scent kink.

I'm 90% sure that they choke us at least once during a high jealousy scene, and Vrel said that they'd be into being choked.

This isn't a kink per se but they canonically use their own drawings as masterbation material and Vrel said that they'd do the same with AI generated images of us as well.

Also they own a custom made sexdoll that looks just like us so that's gotta count for something.

(Update) Bondage is a maybe purely because they have tied us up, mainly to kidnap us but I'll count it regardless.

And those are the ones that I can back up with evidence.

I've seen a few people saying 'Kylar would be into (insert nasty thing here)' and I, unfortunately agree with a lot of them. So here's my grossness warning.

'Painting' us, which is supported by a scene where we're wearing a chastity belt.

Jerking off on/in our clothes and making us wear it afterwards. Which is supported by their marking kink and their scent kink.

Wanting us not to bathe so that they can get off better to our smell. As supported by their scent kink.

Similarly to 3, not wanting us to change our clothes as often so that our smell is stronger/lasts longer when they steal our clothes to get off to.

Carving their name into us, only at max jealousy of course. As supported by their knife play kink, their marking kink and their sadism at max jealousy.

Mad/sad jerking it to pictures of us online because how else would they know about all those photos of us without actively searching for them?

Pleasuring themself with any gift that we give them.

Giving us food with their bodily fluids mixed into it. This is one of the reasons why their food is so bad.

Piss kink but only at max jealousy because they'd get bladder shy otherwise. (Edit: piss kink made canon.)

(Update) Fucking our pillow and or blankets because it smells like us and to make something of ours smell like them for the same reasons as number 2.

(Update 2) Honestly, probably anything that has to do with our bodily fluids.

[pcttymcrlecu]

dreams of someone ✒︎ m.barzal

summary: all lina’s dreams seemingly had come true – and then she met mat in a time where they both needed ... someone

featuring: mat barzal, lina thorne (oc), sydney esiason martin, and the rest of the martin family in mention

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none -- there is a ton of food mention though especially of the baked variety

dedication: this little one shot was written for bre (@fallinallincurls) for demi's winter fic exchange!

the last time ii wrote about mat was two or so years ago so please give me some grace. but writing this was the exact challenge that i needed so i really did enjoy writing it for you and adjusting it to suit your desires. so, i hope it meets your expectations and that you enjoy it!

and a little dedication as per always to demi (@wyattjohnston) for hosting and understanding that life sometimes happens.

It was a typical opening morning for Lina Thorne. She’d woken up at 4:30am, showered and got herself ready for her shift. It was a quick morning stroll to her place when the city that never sleeps was a lot quieter than and the sun was still well below the horizon and wouldn’t be painting the skies until the first batch of cookies was in the oven. The woman couldn’t hide the yawn that left her mouth as her key slid into the lock and the front door to the store opened.

Lina never imagined that she be living the dream in New York City, especially since her dreams of staying out in the big city upon finishing her internship with her mentor never came true. Instead, she found herself dreaming of what life in the big city could be for her, working in a bakery out in Boston honing her skills and surprisingly making herself seemingly at home. She had been referred for the position by her mentor despite his own wants to let the young chef go. Working her way into management and securing respect and acknowledgement in the pastry world. All an up-and-coming pastry chef could ask for. It wasn’t until during a prep day that her boss mentioned a position that she was put into consideration for that would lead her back to the city of her dreams and training not only as a baker but rather the head baker of the newest branch of the bakery she’d happily called home for the last three years.

However, as stood in the commercial kitchen under bright cool lights, being able to say she ran the little bakery on the island, she couldn’t help but pat herself on the back. The nerves had initially consumed her and although her boss and the owner of the bakery had been around for training of staff, prepping for the opening and the grand opening itself. Almost as soon as the store was open and running within the week, she was then solely in charge. It was days like this, however, that she loved the most. Mornings where she was able to get back into the very reason why she got into baking in the first place. It was a time when she could take a moment to herself and just breathe. Especially on a day like today when she had a big order to fill out, for none other than one of her newest friends in the neighbourhood.

Lina’s eyes flitted towards the clock, keenly aware that it was fast approaching time to slip the decorated sign on the door and let customers know that they were open. She had since been joined by two baristas and two of the bakers who were due to take over from her once the store opened up whilst she got her deliveries done before working through paperwork. The shout from one of the aforementioned baristas shook her out of her haze as she iced the cookies in front of her. Calling out for a moment, she finished up the cookie she was decorating before placing the pining bag down and reaching for the dishtowel. 

Walking out into the front, she sent a smile to the two college students who were pulling down chairs and wiping tables before her eyes landed on a familiar head of hair tapping their fingers against her counter. Pulling a face of confusion, she moved towards him dropping the dishtowel.

“We’re not open yet.” She spoke before crossing her arms as he turned towards her. A smile that she could only describe as cheeky sat on his lips as he gave her a little shrug before leaning towards her.

“I was told to pick up a cookie deliver. Sydney’s orders,” He spoke with amusement filling his words, “There’s no saying no to that woman.”

“Mat, Syd’s order is set for delivery.” She wasn’t quite sure if she believed in what he was saying but it wasn’t in her nature to be unkind.

Lina had met Mat by chance and obviously all thanks to the woman currently in question. Sydney and a couple of the other wives and girlfriends of the Islanders had dropped by for a coffee date from which Sydney had made it her newest spot and was happily welcomed by the bakery’s staff as a regular. The more time Sydney spent in the establishment, the more opportunities she got to speak with young women and truly it was hard to say no to that woman. Before she knew it, she was being invited to dinners, and girls’ nights – she had even frequented hockey games which was something she hadn’t done since she was in culinary school. The late nights of the games just didn’t align with the early morning that was required of her at the store. It was one of the rare late nights she had free when she was invited by Sydney to a dinner party at the Martin residence and she had run into Mat. The story according to Syd was that Mat was only invited because of a recent break-up and them wanting him to be around people who loved him and wanted nothing but happiness for him. It, and Lina will quote, “is not a matchmaking setup” like other introductions to Sydney’s male friends of the same age as the baker had been.

The two had been seated next to one another and Mat’s glum mood had caught her attention. But not knowing anything of his current situation and maybe having had a little too much fun doing unplanned pres with the hostess with the mostess gifting her looser lips than normal, she had made a remark about his apparent brooding. A thought she assumed was just that but upon hearing the chatter quieten down a little, she realised her words most definitely left her mouth. Slowly lowering her glass to the table, she turned to apologise to the male beside her when the snort that he let out left her sorry and confused. It was all quickly replaced with intrigue when he shot back with a retort of his own, prompting the two adults into a comfortable and playful argument. It was that moment where instead of anticipating the presence of a certain blonde every day, she noticed a certain brunet make a place for himself at the table closest to the counter by the display case.

The baker had been warned against Matt’s teammates but none other than Matt himself. She’d gotten the idea that Matt was keenly aware of his wife’s ability to befriend people and more importantly take them under her wing, if how quickly she was welcomed into the family dynamic of Martins was anything to go by. Regarding dating, who was she to question a man who spent most of his time with said teammates, she doubted she’d ever even meet and if she ever did, so many faces pass through her doors, she wouldn’t even remember them. Which is why the hockey player who had chosen to make himself a fixture had initially garnered a little apprehension from her but without fail, he always came in and grabbed a coffee (and a cake on those days he chose to treat himself), his a seat and left when he was all done, never without a generous tip. He was kind enough to her staff and even kinder to the other regulars who were in at the same time as him, so she let him be. All business is good business, even though she knew for a fact there were coffee shops much closer to his apartment, the arena and even the practice facility. But who was she to complain.

She couldn’t remember when it started but she eventually started joining him when he’d visit in the mornings. Their chats were surprisingly something familiar, and comfortable, like talking to an old friend. They joked and teased but most of the time they just let go. It had been a couple weeks since they first met, and it wasn’t until the second week of them sharing a drink that he’d actually opened up about why he was looking so glum the night they had met and why he was hanging around her café. How he got her store details from Sydney and how he was drawn to the fact that she didn’t handle him as though he was fragile. How all he had wanted when it felt like someone he cared about deeply had uprooted him from his very foundation was normalcy. And that’s what Lina gave him. He was just another friend of a friend to her; he was just Mat to her. Not heartbroken Mat, not healing Mat, not even NHL superstar – Just Mat.

“Well, you’re not all that Mathew.” She had stated to which he could only respond with a soft ‘Exactly’. Ever since that moment, they had shared ample time with one another both in and outside of his coffee trips. And despite the time Mat has been spending within their four brick walls, it was still a surprise to see him at the store before opening.

“Can’t be, she sent me a frantic message at 7 telling me she needed a favour and who am I to fulfil my favourite uncle duties,” He explained before sending a wink her way, “Anything for Winnie.”

“Yeah, she lied to you,” She answered, giving him a double pat on the shoulder and a short cackle before moving over and opening the gate for the man, “One time only, might as well put you to work.”

The two of them made their way to the kitchen and while Mat went to wash his hands (not before Lina pointed a firm finger towards the sink to gently direct him to do so), Lina grabbed him a free apron and tossed it over his shoulder. Moving back to the station where the last of the cookies were waiting to be decorated and then packed away for delivery. 

“So, what can I do?” Mat slipped the apron over his head as he leaned over to observe the spread of baked goods before glancing back over at her. His confident smile slowly slipped off his face as she grabbed a piping bag and handed it over to him.

“I line, you flood.”

“Didn’t you train like three years for this?” Giving the bag a gentle squish and frowning when no icing flowed out.

“It’s basically impossible to mess it up, it’s like colour by numbers,” She explained softly as she grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the end of the piping bag while adjusting his hand to make sure no icing was wasted. Pulling the cookies, she was previously working on in front of him all lined and ready to fill in front of him, before gesturing towards the piping bag and gesturing back to the cookies. “Match the flood colour to the line colour. Winnie does it all the time.”

“While I know that’s not really true, the dig hurts.” His free hand flew up to his chest in mock hurt before laughing and finally putting icing to cookie with an almost amusing amount of concentration.

“Get filling pretty boy, I will not have my little princess disappointed.”

The two of them worked almost like a well-oiled machine. It almost felt like she was back in culinary school, helping out with the younger years. They weren’t always perfect, but their hearts were always in the right place and if there was one thing she had learnt about Mat was that his heart was always in the right place. Almost to a fault. The whole bravado he put on was more like a mask. At least in front of her. He never had any walls up with her, but he definitely had worn the walls she constructed when she moved down. She always knew that those walls had to come down eventually, but she definitely didn’t expect it would come from a chance encounter with a random stranger. The girls and her staff had done their fair share and warming her up and making her feel at home but the first time she ever truly let herself be with no pretences and no fears of being judged and not fitting in was sitting in the store over a cup of coffee with Mat.

Before long, all the cookies, cupcakes, and the grand finale cake of it all were packed into the refrigerated bakery van ready for transportation to the Martins' house, where preparations, if the texts and calls she had received from Sydney were anything to go by, were well underway.  Despite Mat’s pleas to drive, Lina kept a firm hold of the keys until they were safely parked in their friends’ driveway. Grabbing her garment bag from its place hanging in the backseat, she walked up to the front door. Mat’s knuckles were knocking against the wooden door as Lina reached him up on the front step. His eyes were drawn to the bag in her hand, and he couldn’t help but bring up his curiosity.

“What’s with the change of attire?” 

“As if I’m going to spend the rest of the day in clothing that’s covered in powdered sugar, flour and dried batter and dough. Plus, if I’m going to be around kids with surprisingly sticky hands, I’m going to start with a fresh slate.” Her words were light and humorous and before Mat could even attempt a response, the door opened and a hand was wrapped around Lina’s wrist, pulling her into the house quickly.

“Thank goodness you’re here, I need your help.” The blonde in front of her pulled her to the side before aggressively motioning to Mat who was still pulling his shoes off. He almost comically pointed to himself before looking behind him only to be physically pulled into their little huddle a second later, “There’s so much left to sort out and both Alice and Winnie want pancakes. Help Matty and I out?”

“Don’t think I’m your guy, I’mma just –“ 

“Of course we can help, go do what you need to do,” Lina responded, grabbing onto Mat’s arm before he walked away. Sydney gave her a smile and with a blown kiss, she was gone. Once her friend was out of view, Lina’s hand swung up to Mat’s shoulder, “Really?”

“What?” He was greeted simply with a shaken head as she slipped her own shoes off along with her jacket before she walked into the kitchen. Pouting at the lack of an answer, he followed her quickly “What?”

Mat watched as she made quick work of pulling out the necessary ingredients and equipment for the pancakes. Pulling up one of the bar stools, he settled into a routine that was very much a typical evening for them. Since he frequented the store so much, Lina had decided that for all the real estate he was taking away from her other customers, he had to give something back and that was how he became her official taste tester. Once, every other month they’d get together and along with a constantly refilled glass of wine (courtesy of Mat), she’d bake all her experimental recipes and flavour pairings on him. It was one of the things that she loved about him. She loved simply baking with no pressure of it being commercially viable and nothing is better than baking for someone who is more than happy to consume. Even if it means she has to put up with the constant whining about how her goods are going to make a certain someone work harder at the gym.

The two worked in a comfortable quiet, Mat had put music on the Alexa quiet enough not to disturb anything happening in the other parts of the house. Mat was picking at the tester pancake before he hopped off the stool and made his way over to the cupboard and pulled out the Nutella and a spoon, before settling himself beside the baker who was humming along to the music.

“What happened to all that ‘I’m a disciplined athlete’ talk?”

“I’m just a man and you’re out here teasing me with all those amazing treats you made me decorate and now you expect me to not have at least one spoonful of chocolatey goodness?” Forcefully scooping up a spoonful of said spread, her pointed it in her direction for a moment before shoving it in his mouth, “You have too much faith in me.”

“Oh, now that is pushing it,” She said flipping one of the pastries onto a plate before turning to face him as she poured more batter on the hot plate, “Would you please just cut some strawberries and stuff?”

Although it wasn’t without complaints, sure enough, they were working side by side. Lina flipping pancakes and Matt cutting strawberries into quarters as they quietly spoke about their weeks, catching each other up on their respective TV shows. 

“You know this is what I miss the most.” Lina hummed in question at his statement, only slightly inclining her head in his direction, “I miss just having someone to talk to. To exist with. To be with.”

Silence flooded through the pair as her head turned towards him as he continued chopping the fruit, a bittersweet smile on his face. She took a deep breath as she felt a wave of emotion flood through her as his words processed in her head. Her hand was on the dial, turning the heat off and placing the spatula down. Her words came out as an unsteady breath as she turned fully towards him.  “Oh Mat…” 

“I know I’ve already talked you to death about … that situation but –“ Mat lowered the knife but still made no effort to look in her direction and shook his head slightly before huffing out a quiet laugh,  “It’s not just that you didn’t treat me like I could break but the time we spent together, the conversations we had. It almost felt like having someone again. Except this time, it was in the shape of friend – someone I can’t lose. Until I kept getting to know how wonderful you are.”

The words to comfort the man in front of her were proving difficult to come by so Lina simply stepped towards him and did the only thing she could think of, wrapped her arms around him. With one arm around his back and the other holding onto his arm, she laid her head on his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve done the whole break up thing before I don’t know why this time it was difficult. I guess I got too comfortable with the wrong person, I don’t know but I know it was wrong now. I knew it was wrong the moment I had coffee with you for the first time because you made me feel more heard and all you were doing was entertaining a customer who wouldn’t leave your store.” She couldn’t help the laugh that left her, giving him a whole-body nudge and shaking her head as it pressed against his bicep muttering a soft ‘not true’.

Lina felt Mat’s head move to look towards her, moving her own to look up at him but keeping him in her soft hug. She would never admit it to him, considering the subconscious promise she made to herself upon finding out he was still working through his breakup. Their eyes met and he couldn’t help the smile that floated onto his lips until a little embarrassment covered his face,  “Sydney didn’t tell me to come and collect Win’s treats, I just hoped if I turned up, I wouldn’t have to share your attention with your customers.” 

“I’ve told you before Mathew you never have to be jealous of customers taking me away from you. I’ll always be there for you,” She muttered, pulling away before turning him until they were chest to chest, “I know we joke but I truly will always be there for you. Maybe covered in icing but always there.”

“And I you,” At his words, she wrapped her arms around his neck giving him a proper hug.

Inhaling deeply, she felt him do the same as his arms wrapped firmly around her trapping her between them, not that she was complaining. Her mind rushed through the past couple weeks of her life since meeting the man and she couldn’t believe just how close and open she had got with him. There were people she’d met during culinary school and knew for 4 years and worked with in Boston for 3 years who didn’t know as much about who she was outside of the kitchen as Mat did, and she’d barely known him for a couple months.

He had an interest in getting to know her and just wanted to sit and speak with her, whether or not he had his own ulterior motives for appreciating her company, they bonded. They spent a lot of time together doing nothing more than talking in their own little world. Lina would go as far as to say that she knew him and not just superficially but at a much deeper level and she could entirely feel what he was saying about how being with her feels because she felt the exact same way. Releasing him from her hold, she was suspended on her toes as Mat took a little longer to pull his arms away. She laughed softly, keeping her hands perched on his shoulders as she looked up at him with a soft and gentle smile.

“You bring me peace too,” She whispered, letting out a breath as she steeled herself to admit her truth to him, something that she’d become very comfortable with so what did she have to lose this time, “I love being your someone, because you’re my someone.”

If Mat was smiling before, the smile that took over her face at her words was rivalling the sun. A deep sigh left his mouth, and it was almost like all the tension that had filled his body since he started speaking had been loosened instantly. His shoulder dropped as the tension fell away and his hands found hers up on his shoulders, holding them tight between them. He went to speak but a shout of ‘LiLi’ filled both of their ears from the living room. Touching his forehead against hers, they both laughed gently as the shouts got closer and more frequently. Pushing back up on her toes, Lina pressed a firm kiss to his cheek before pulling away. Giving him one last peck on the cheek before she properly pulled away.

“Later?” He simply smiled at her question as the sound of small footfalls got closer.

“Later.”

[neetily]

Now i cant stop thinking about Ouran Highschool DoL Club lolol it sounds interesting Id say! Whitney is the most popular! Kylar Struggling but happily giving each PC attention

But Id choose my Loved Robin <3

here are some of my thoughts >:D it's been a while since i watched ouran so if the vibes aren't vibing then feel free to correct me lmao. also i took some insp from bitch club don't judge me </3

Whitney is by far the most popular choice for both genders. there's just something about the way he talks down to others, grabbing them by their hair or nape and tugging them, dragging them to where he wants them to be for their scheduled time that just seems to keep the freaks coming back, y'know? he acts as though he hates the gig, nonchalant and confused over why he's the most popular boy there, but it's pretty simple in retrospect. he rarely, if ever, turns down requests. willing to do whatever the fuck he's asked to do simply because he's the sluttiest of the group. on the plus side, he gets free hole every day, so he's not complaining. a quick and easy fuck, just like his clients, what's not to love? his only rule is that he never bottoms... at least, not for anyone except you. his favourite customer <3

Kylar doesn't think he's that popular because he never puts out for anyone, simply biding his time in the corner all alone, awaiting for the day that you pick him to spend some time with. but there's something alluring to how mysterious and aloof he is, right? gathering quite the following of loyal customers despite his strong dislike of them, avoiding eye contact and offering dry replies any time someone other than you decides to steal his time away from casual stalking. he's just too busy watching you, seething with raw jealousy at the way the others flirt with you so easily and regularly; he can't provide his clients with another more than hums and nods. he isn't even listening to them, petting his cock instead to the sight of your pretty smile.

But it's easy to see why Robin is popular in comparison, particularly with the ladies. indulging his customers so effortlessly, taking time and care and attention with each and every client that visits him, the real BFE! he puts out a decent amount once enough rapport has been built with his fans, making sure to leave a lasting impression to build a sizeable following. but, in spite of his apparent sincere appearances, he's really only taking part in the club as a form of practice. something about gaining enough experience to match your skill, his heart skipping a beat when you decide to slot him in for an evening. he's always so excited to show you what new things he's learned since last time <3!

Pure Sydney, on the other hand, does his best to avoid anything more than simple hand holding at most. his customers tend to be followers of the church, excited to hold the sydney's hand! and though he feels a twinge of guilt every time he holds someone's hand that isn't your own, he can't deny that he feels good upon seeing his clients smile so warmly back at him. rather than physical acts of affection, he much prefers the classic host club experience; sitting in a nice quiet corner together with however many patrons have came to visit him that day just to chat. light conversation, a quick balm to worried minds. it's pleasant, and he enjoys getting to see you on top of that!

Corrupted Sydney is of course taking part in the degenerate behaviour behind the scenes, though he exclusively reserves the rights to fucking his cock into your hole; no one else is allowed to fuck him or get fucked by him. a quick handjob under the table as he drinks tea by one of his most loyal supporters? sure, whatever. some thigh fucking with another customer as they sit on his lap for him to read to them? absolutely. but he waits for you to book his time before getting his cock wet, making sure his whole schedule is clear so that he can spend as much time on and with you as possible

[drabbles-mc]

So Serious

Sydney Adamu x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+, canon-typical arguing/light angst, language, mentions of smoking, pining

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: aspectabund- letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: my first Syd/Reader fic! i love her! that's all!

The tension in the kitchen was suffocating, had been for weeks. Everyone knew it and no one was saying anything about it. Tendrils of it managed to slip out to the front of the house every now and then, weaseling its way out as staff filtered back and forth between the two halves of the restaurant. Most of the time it dissipated before it landed at a table full of customers, but sometimes the cloud of it was thick enough to cover them in it too.

In every restaurant you’d worked in, there had always been some level of chaos. It seemed unavoidable in a way, the way that most chefs were wired. Short fuses abound. The Bear wasn’t any different in that regard, but there was a weariness permeating the restaurant that you weren’t quite used to. You felt like you were supposed to be doing something about it, but there was nothing to be done. Like most things, the issues themselves were far above your paygrade. You focused on treading carefully and running plates—those were the things that you had control over.

Once the last table of customers had left, once the cleanup in the front of the house was done, most of the waitstaff scampered right on out the door. You didn’t blame them for that, and neither did Richie, judging by the tired, dejected look on his face. The two of you weren’t exactly close, but he also had a way of making people feel like they were a friend of sorts, or a frenemy if nothing else. You enjoyed that about him most of the time, but you noticed that even he was starting to lose that spark.

“Need anything?” you asked as he idly messed with the forks and napkins on one of the two-tops.

He didn’t look at you as he shook his head. “I’m all good. You can,” he sighed and finally forced his eyes off the table and over to yours, “you can go home.”

You wanted to offer again, press a little harder about it, but you didn’t. You’d been successful at staying out of the line of fire so far, and you wanted to keep it that way. “Okay,” you conceded with a nod. “I’m just gonna toss my stuff in the back and take off, then.”

His attention as already redirecting elsewhere as he nodded. “Night.”

“Night—see you tomorrow.”

You walked away, looking back at him over your shoulder just long enough to see that even though he was staring at the table in front of him, his mind was miles and miles away. The frown on your face appeared like a reflex. Still, you forced yourself to keep walking until you reached the door that led back to the kitchen.

The second you pushed the door open you were hammered with the sound of Carmy and Syd going back and forth. You had grown used to the tension, the pockets of yelling that broke out between Carmy and Richie, between Carmy and Natalie too. It wasn’t even the first time you’d heard Carmy yell at Sydney.

It was the first time, though, that you heard Sydney sound like she was about to start yelling back. You saw the way that they were standing on either side of the main station in the center of the kitchen. Carmy had his palms flat against the countertop—you could tell how harshly he was pressing down into it by the tension in his arms. Sydney, on the other hand, had her arms folded across her chest, instead holding all of her tightness in her jaw as she waited for Carmy to finish his piece. Gearing up to volley the argument right back to him. Round and round again.

You were just trying to slink past them to the very back of house, towards the office and the lockers. You kept your chin tucked and your eyes aimed at the floor as you went. You knew that you were going to have to go around one of them to get to where you needed to go. There wasn’t a good option and for a moment you wondered if it would be worth it to just catch an Uber home rather than getting your car keys—you were just going to be back tomorrow anyway.

As you went by Sydney, you mumbled an extremely quiet, “Behind,” out of habit. You regretted it even as you were saying it as it felt like you were inadvertently adding yourself to the conversation, but the action was so ingrained in you now that you couldn’t help it.

The same reflex had her shifting slightly to give you more room before she fully realized what was happening. “Sorry,” she muttered, louder than you’d been but not by much. Then she looked over her shoulder and saw it was you and the features of her face softened just a touch. Her eyes went from annoyed to genuinely apologetic, her lips tugging into a small frown for a moment as she repeated herself, this time with more earnestness in her voice. “Sorry, Chef.”

You knew that she was apologizing for more than the few seconds that had just passed. You also knew that the things that she was really saying sorry for, weren’t really hers to take ownership of that way. But you’d get a hundred apologies from Sydney before you got a single one from the man who was currently scrutinizing the two of you.

“It’s okay,” you said, giving her a quick nod before walking as fast as you could without breaking into a run to get to the back.

You let out a sigh of relief when the lockers came into your field of view, the feeling in your lungs telling you that at some point you’d begun holding your breath. The strides that carried you over to your locker felt much more fluid than the ones that had gotten you through the main drag of the kitchen.

The latch on your locker door let out its signature metallic clank as you lifted it, a sound that seemed so loud in the silence of the back area. You went to pull the door open, and the creaking of it was immediately drowned out by Carmy’s yelling. You winced at the sound, glad that you didn’t have to spend your whole shift listening to it.

Then you heard Sydney starting to yell right back. “No, what I’m asking for is that you listen to me and maybe even, oh I don’t know, talk to me instead of just making all of these decisions alone. We’re supposed to be part—”

“Well you still haven’t signed the fucking agreement so I guess we’re not.”

Neither of them had noticed that you were lingering just within viewing range of them again. You’d lasted until you heard the scathing sarcasm dripping from Syd’s tone when she said ‘asking for’ before going back again.

The business side of things was well outside your jurisdiction—you knew that. But even so, you knew that what Carmy had just said was a low-blow. Syd’s eyes widened, her head tilting just slightly for a moment. You were holding your breath again, wondering if she was going to lunge across the counter at him—you wouldn’t have blamed her for it. You probably wouldn’t have tried to stop her either.

“If that’s what you need,” she was making short, angry gestures with her hands now, rage written all over her face, “to take me seriously, to take me opinions and feelings into consideration—”

“This, this isn’t about your fuckin’ feelings, Syd!”

The short laugh she let out was a cruel one. “No? Because it definitely seems to be all about yours!”

He was shaking his head, suddenly unable to look at her again. “I, I don’t, I don’t need this.” He pushed himself back and away from the counter.

Syd rolled her eyes as he started to walk away, and you were too busy watching her to register the fact that Carmy was walking towards you. “Wow, yeah, alright. Good talk, Chef. Glad we got all that sorted out.” She was shaking her head as she turned to follow him with her gaze, more snarky commentary on the tip of her tongue until she saw it was you standing there and not Carmy. Her expression faltered. “Shit, I’m, uh, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to listen—”

“It’s fine,” you told her with a small shake of your head. Then you caught yourself and let out an awkward laugh as you tried to recover. “I mean, it’s not—you know…”

She quiet chuckle she let out had a weariness to it, but you still took it as a bit of a win. “I know.”

She took a breath to say something else but before she could, the sound of Carmy slamming his locker shut echoed throughout the kitchen. She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling like she was about to start praying for answers. She watched as Carmy came tearing back through, his jacket only half-on. The exasperation was weighing on every single feature of her face as she tried to call after him only to get ignored. You went from staring at her to staring at the floor. Both of you vaguely heard Richie calling after him, having no greater success than Sydney had.

Seconds later Richie came striding into the kitchen, pointing his thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the front door to the restaurant. “Yo, Syd, what the fuck did you say to that little jagoff?”

She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Oh, you didn’t hear?”

He scoffed, then shrugged. “No, I mean, I heard. I just figured it was the professional thing to do to pretend I didn’t. What—” He paused when he saw you standing there, looking as awkward as he’d ever seen you. “What the hell are you still doing here? Thought you were heading home?”

Syd answered for you. “Got caught up being a material witness to an attempted murder.”

That got a chuckle out of all three of you but it was Richie who spoke up first as he looked at Sydney. “You woulda beat Carmy’s ass.”

She laughed. “Well, yeah. No question.” Taking a deep breath, she looked over at Richie. “You should head out, get some rest.”

He nodded, not looking for an argument on that. “You too.”

She nodded right back but made no move to leave. “I will.”

You should’ve counted the seconds that passed with the three of you standing there in silence all waiting for one of the others to start heading out first. You still didn’t even have your backpack. The quiet continued and suddenly the mantra of every second counts felt more like a threat than anything else.

Richie caved first, digging out his car keys from his pocket. “Right, well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight, Richie,” Syd said with a nod, crossing her arms once more.

You and Richie exchanged another brief goodbye before he was turning on his heel and leaving. Sydney watched him until he disappeared out the front door and you found yourself doing the same. Once he was gone, Syd was staring at the empty dining room and you were staring at her.

“He’s right,” you finally said, still looking at her. You waited until she turned to face you. “You should get some rest too.”

She sighed as she nodded. “I know.”

You cocked your head to the side. “You heading out, then?”

Dragging her hands down her face, she nodded. “I guess so, yeah.”

You chuckled and nodded. “C’mon, I’ll walk out with you."

The two of you walked back towards the lockers. You had to actually grab your things for real this time and Syd needed to swap out and collect hers as well. You could feel it in the air between you that there was something more she wanted to say, another apology or some kind of explanation. Not that you needed one from her.

Yours was the only locker door that was open, betraying how you’d abandoned your mission to leave earlier. The sight of it got a soft chuckle out of Syd. You were shaking your head, knowing what she was thinking without her even saying it.

“I’m nosey,” you said with a laugh as you went and grabbed your backpack off the hook, your jacket too. “Sue me.”

Syd was still smiling and shaking her head as she opened up her own locker. “I’m sure you could’ve heard us even if you didn’t come back out there.” She slipped on her coat and grabbed her tote bag before looking at you again. “I am sorry about that. Really."

You shrugged as you shut your locker. “It’s fine—I know how it goes."

She looked pensive for a moment before she asked, “The other spots you worked in…they were like this?”

You huffed out a tired laugh as you put one strap of your backpack on your shoulder. “Well, not exactly like this.”

Syd’s smile was a half-hearted one as she said, “It’s that bad?”

You immediately shook your head. “No. I mean, well,” you laughed as the two of you started to make your way back to the main part of the kitchen, “it's different here. I’ve never…” You trailed off, wanting to make sure you chose your words carefully. “I’ve never worked at a spot this new.” You shrugged as you crossed the threshold into the dining room, watching Syd flick off the lights on her way. “You guys are still figuring it out.”

“Carmy’s figuring it out,” Syd corrected under her breath, the bitterness in her tone not directed at you.

You gave her a sympathetic smile. “So I heard.”

“Sor—”

You waved her off. “Richie talks shit about him to me too. What’d he say that one time…” You paused as you wracked your brain for the right words. It took a moment but your face lit up with recognition. “He said Carmy was going ‘all fuckin’ cowboy with this shit', which was hilarious for a lot of reasons.”

Must’ve been to her, too, because she was laughing as the two of you reached the main door. There was a split second after she turned off the lights when you couldn’t see her but you could hear her laughter. Then she opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, the streetlamps of Chicago illuminating her once more.

“He hears Richie say that,” she said as she turned to lock up, “and he’ll come in wearing a sheriff’s badge.”

“Yeehaw,” you said, your tone flat and pseudo-serious enough to get both of you breaking down into laughter again. It was good to hear it—it was good to hear her like that.

“God,” she shook her head as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat.

“It’ll be fine.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Promise?”

You chuckled, making a big show of looking anywhere but at her. “Ah, shit, you know, I really gotta…gotta get going…” you trailed off as you started to laugh again. When the moment quieted again you said, “Try not to let it eat you alive.”

“Too late,” she joked. “Ask my medicine cabinet full of Pepto."

You smiled. “Ulcers are a bitch, huh?” You adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Still better than smoking though. That shit takes forever to quit.”

“I’m about to tell Carmy to pick it up again. That gum is not it for him,” she punctuated her statement with a laugh.

“Know what I do instead now?”

“Eavesdrop on everyone’s conversations?”

You waved her off good-naturedly before bringing your bag so that it was in front of you. “I did that shit while I was still smoking too.”

You unzipped the small pocket of your backpack and stuck your hand in. All that could be heard for a moment was the crinkling of wrappers and the confusion mixed with curiosity on Sydney’s face was priceless. You held your hand out to her, a few small candies in your palm.

She laughed. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “So serious.” You moved your hand a little closer to her. “Want one?”

She thought about it for all of a second before she reached and gingerly took one from your hand. She pulled on the ends of the butterscotch wrapper to open it. You mirrored her actions as she popped it into her mouth.

“So,” she started, speaking around the candy now tucked in her cheek, “you combat lung cancer and stomach ulcers with…granny candy?”

You burst out laughing at that, shoving your candy wrapper back into the pocket of your bag before slinging it back onto your shoulder. You pulled the other strap on as well as you nodded. “Hey, it works. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Yeah,” you watched as she moved the candy from one side of her mouth to the other, “we'll see.”

There was a pause, one that dragged on just a little too long. Goodbyes were in order but neither of you were looking to be the first one to say it. It was stupid, really—you’d be back here in less than twenty-four hours.

“I should—”

“You need—”

You both started and stopped at the same time, laughing softly at the stumbled words. Sydney gestured for you to go first, so you did.

“You need a lift home?”

She shook her head immediately, slight, determined frown on her face. “No, no, that’s okay.”

“You sure?” You pulled your car keys from your jacket pocket. “It’s not a problem.”

“I’m fine, really. Besides,” she offered a small smile, “if you see the matchbox I now call my home, I’m afraid you might lose all the respect you have for me.”

You rolled your eyes, a warm smile on your face that paled in comparison to the heat warming your cheeks as you said, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

There was a smile tugging at her lips, one that she fought to keep under control. She wished she could blame the wave of jitters on a sugar rush but she’d need to steal just about your entire stash for that to be a good enough excuse.

“You’re sure it’s not a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Just, you know,” you shrugged as you started walking towards the car, “don’t let me get lost.”

“Lucky for you I was gifted with a great sense of direction.”

You smiled as you looked over at her, her strides matching yours almost perfectly in-sync. “That feels like sarcasm but I hope it’s not—I don’t really feel like exploring new sides of Chicago in the middle of the night.”

Syd chuckled. “No faith.”

You stopped next to your car and it was only then that you realized Syd had never seen it before. If she had, she wouldn’t have nearly kept walking right on by it. You smiled as you cleared your throat to get her attention. She stopped and turned to face you, eyes growing just a little wider as you leaned against the driver’s side of your car.

“Just let me clear off the seat real quick.”

There wasn’t much there. An old sweatshirt you kept on hand just in case, a handful of large straws that you took from the fast-food place at the end of the block by your apartment because they had big straws and for some reason the coffee shop always gave you small ones even though you ordered a large iced coffee every morning. Syd didn’t seem to bat an eye at any of it, or the random items that were currently cluttering your back seat.

She plopped down in the passenger seat and set about buckling in, her tote bag placed nicely on the floor between her feet. You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you buckled in yourself. You tried not to think too much about any of it, about the butterflies in your stomach or the way that the outside of Syd’s arm was pressed against yours on the console. You were going to reach to turn the volume up on the radio but now you just didn’t want to break the contact.

“So,” you turned and looked at her, knowing that there was no hiding all the different emotions on your face, but you tried in vain anyway, “where am I taking you?”

“Home, hopefully,” she joked. She looked back and forth between your eyes, and both of you pretended, for the sake of your sanity, not to notice when her gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest moment. She cleared her throat, nodding towards the road in front of you. “You can just, uh, take a left at the end of the block here.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

You had to move your arm to put the car in drive, not that you wanted to. There was something that should’ve felt daunting about her sitting in the shotgun seat, but it wasn’t weighing on you the way you thought it would. It was a relief, really, when you put your arm back on the console and hers was still there, pressed right up against yours again. You smiled as you watched the road, and pretended not to notice the way that Syd was smiling at you.

(divider by @silkholland 💕)

The Bear Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @garbinge @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @hausofmamadas @narcolini

@ashlingiswriting @fromirkwood @justreblogginfics

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Anyone but me interested in a Noir-esque The Bear AU

The Bear is a fancy bar ran by the mob, whom the Berzattos are part of or are associated with. The main story focuses on Sydney as she works there and realises that it's not just a job as a bar chef, but a cover for drug dealing and money laundering.

She observes everyone and gets the idea that most the staff, Tina, Ebra, Marcus, Gary etc, know it's a mob bar but don't know the details and don't want to, they just work the bar and cook the food. She knows that the Faks run security. Mikey's running the bar (trust me, it makes more sense if Mikey's alive but struggling in this plus, my AU, my rules) so she knows that he's aware and controlling what's going on. There's a gun under the counter, code words for the various drugs that people may want to order, and mysterious meetings that has his him shooting daggers. She gets the idea that this isn't what he wanted to do with his life, but he got stuck with it.

She's right. One of the Berzatto siblings had to inherit the Bear, and Mikey sure as shit wasn't going to let it be Carmy or Nat with how much potential they have.

The only person she can't place is Richie. She knows he works there but doesn't see him work the bar, he only takes the coats of certain people and spends most of his time smoozing customers. She guesses he must be a mob guy there to keep an eye on them, or some in house drug dealer.

She asks around and gets laughs. She's told using various euphemisms what his job is, he's a hustler, a gigolo, a rent boy, and when she doesn't get those, or doesn't want to believe them, Tina very blatantly says that he's a prostitute. He's told high profile clients are coming in, or picks up on various people in the bar, and works his charms, either disappearing to their car, their apartment, or if they don't have that kind of cash, to the inconspicuous room at the back that Sydney assumed was a storeroom.

When Gary's off sick, Mikey gets Syd to join him on the bar for a change. This is when she observes Richie more, sees the subtle exchange of money, how Richie turns on his charming attitude when he clocks a client, how someone's always touching him with no regard to consent or personal space or boundaries, like his body isn't actually his and is instead everyone's to do with as they wish.

She picks up on how he disappears almost without notice, how he always comes back looking as immaculate in his suit as he did beforehand. She also notes how Mikey watches him like a hawk, and how his eyes flick down to the gun and the light below the bar, she realises it's a kind of security measure.

It's only as the weeks turn to months that she finds out even more about how dark this place is. How Mikey's high most of the time, and how controlled he and Richie truly are, how much they go against what the mob want, and how desperately she needs to get out before it's too late.

[ciaomarie]

Neighbor Series: Ch. 4 Part 2

A Delicate Ecosystem

Part 2: Carmen is obviously down bad, but does Sydney feel as deeply? Is her career or love most important?

I think this might be the last in this series.

The rest of the day and night went smoothly. Sydney tried to dismiss that stupid conversation with Richie from her mind. Carmy was the same as ever. She supposed he didn't have "the talk" with him. Typical that Rich thought it was her responsibility to control the actions of a grown man.

The next day Sydney walked past Marcus and Fak huddled in conversation and thought she heard her name. She shrugged it off, put away her stuff in her locker and joined them.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Marcus can we talk for minute?"

Fak who usually had something quirky to say, just waved at her and scuddled away.

"Yeah, anything wrong?" Marcus asked with an odd, no an irritated look, on his face.

"Well, yes. Our bread supplier isn't going to come through for the rest of the week. A death in the family. Carmy wanted me let you know that we'll have to make it in-house today, but we have a backup ready for tommorrow."

"Got it."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything."

"I said I got it."

Sydney was thrown off by his tone. Yes, Marcus had asked her out several months ago and it was weird for that night. Afterwards, they'd moved on and were back on good terms. She racked her brain trying to think if she'd done or said something recently to offend him.

"Um, is there a problem?"

"Nope."

Marcus's face was now unreadable and he walked away to his station. It was eerie, but Sydney had many other things to do so she shelved it for now.

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The following day Carmy stood behind the restaurant for a his "smoke" break right before nightly service. He quit cigarettes a shortly after The Bear opened because he had caught pneumonia and missed two days of work. His doctor told him that she'd seen a lot of pneumonia cases in her elderly and smoking patients that season. So now he chewed Nicorette and pretended that it was just as satisfying. While he stood there enjoying the solitude, Anna, a new hostess came out and began smoking her vape pen. She had a one of those warm, generic voices that was perfect for customer service, but she could instantly switch to a cloying Kardashian-esque accent. She used it whenever she could talk to Carmy alone. However, today she didn't immediately begin speaking when she saw him. He decided to not waste the chance to escape. Just as he was about to go back in Anna spoke up.

"So…do you like know of any nice apartments around here?"

Carmy was facing the door so he could roll his eyes, without her seeing. Then he turned around trying to look neutral.

"Uh, no. Well, I like mine. It's 10 minutes from here, but there's almost never anything available."

"Oh, really? Didn't Sydney just get a place there? Or did she move in with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just thought I heard like you were maybe together?"

Anna kept her voice light, but she seemed nervous. One hand was gripping her vape pen and the other was twirling her long brown hair.

"No, we don't live together. What does that have to do with you finding an apartment?"

"No? Well, I didn't think so. Sydney is great and all, but she's…like you could like date anyone here, you know?" Anna replied choosing to ignore his question.

Carmen couldn't believe he was having this conversation. This time he couldn't help rolling his eyes in her face. The unmitigated gall of this women to talk about Sydney and to approach her employer in this manner.

"Anna, my dating life is not up for discussion."

Carmen wanted to say more, but he knew that it would be best to discuss it with Natalie first. She came from corporate America and knew the proper HR way of dealing this stuff.

"Oh, oh yeah. Like, okay. Um, I better get back" Anna stammered, blushing and darted through the door.

That night Carmy was on alert. It was one minor incident, but he had to suppress his compulsion to spiral with doubt and worry that Sydney would be hurt because of him. He hadn't really thought much about how others might view their potential relationship. He probably blocked it out because there was already so much to worry about. Also, their kitchen "mind-meld" flow was getting better all the time. It was exhilarating how they had become more and more attuned with one another during service. Often while working side by side they would hand each other the very thing they needed without even having to speak, much less look at each other. They could plate a dish together faster than a pit crew could replace a tire. With a glance Carmy knew when Sydney needed a break on their most insane evenings. He'd just squeeze her shoulder and she'd move so he could take over for a quick five. He did the same for others though.

However, what happened the other night might have raised some eyebrows. He was asked to greet a congressperson who was dining there and he beckoned for Sydney to join him. Before they went out he grabbed a towel to pat her dewy forehead, retied her chef's coat and smoothed it down like he was her personal valet. This was in front of the entire kitchen. He hadn't meant to do anything that would make Sydney a target. His intention was to support her, not romance her at work. Of' course there were slip ups. He just hoped the conversation with Anna was a one-off. To be on the safe side during service he tried not to do anything extra with her besides their usual telepathic routine. Sydney followed his lead avoiding making unnecessary remarks or touching him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later he walked her home. They were silent at first, their stride in perfect harmony.

Carmy cleared his throat.

"Sydney, has anyone been treating you differently?"

Sydney paused in surprise for a second, but then she answered "Am I that easy to read?"

Carmen was now very concerned.

"No, it's just that I had a weird conversation before service with one of the front staff."

"Was it about us?"

"Yeah, has anyone said anything to you?"

"Yes, Richie did. A couple others are just being a little icy this week. It's no big deal."

Carmen took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"What did Richie say?"

"Oh, Mr. Richard had a speech. He wanted to make sure I kept the "shop" closed until you and Nat could pay back Cicero. He's afraid I'll mess up the ecosystem. "

Carmy's froze for a second, then he blushed scarlet from the mention of him getting anywhere near Sydney's "shop" and from Richie's audacity to address Syd instead of him.

She continued.

"At the time I thought he was just being Richie. Now, I don't know. I don't want to mess anything up for you, for us. The Bear is so new and we are on track to paying off the debt and maybe even getting a star."

"Sydney. We make an excellent team and nothing that we've done or will do together outside of The Bear will change it. I promise you, that I won't let it change. Your dreams are first priority."

"So are yours, Carmy."

Carmy's focused on his breathe for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears. His dream was doing this with HER. He meant it when he said he wouldn't even want to do it without her. Each day together wove a new thread from his heart to hers, but he wouldn't force it on her.

"Sydney, I like you. More than anyone I've ever…."

He stopped unsure if she was ready to hear how deep his feelings ran.

"But I understand if you want me to back off. Whatever you decide I will talk to them and fix this. You deserve nothing but respect."

They reached the front of their building and Sydney turned to face him. He was visibly trembling. Tenderness for him surged from her heart. Carmen was the most sincere man she'd ever met. He couldn't fake happiness, indifference, or confidence unless that was how he truly felt. Past the anxiety, occasional moodiness, and temper, at his core she saw someone who desperately desired to serve and to be understood.

He stood there defenseless.

She put a hand over his heart as if to speak to it.

"No, don't back off. I don't care what any of them think as long as we're good."

Carmy breathed again, took her hand in his and kissed her palm, nuzzling it against his cheek.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sydney lay in bed that night thinking. She knew down to her bones that her foundation was stronger than his. It was not due to any fault of his own. Her home had been filled with safety and love. It was her nature to be a perfectionist, but even when she failed she knew that she had intrinsic value as a person. What she lacked that Carmen had was the courage to be vulnerable. He was open to her about Mikey within the first few weeks of their meeting despite not knowing how she would respond. This and his consistent effort to know her, drew her in despite the chaos of early days at The Beef. She knew that he would actually listen and give her an opportunity to grow. There was another intangible factor, which scared and thrilled Sydney. When she often found him gazing at her, there was a feeling that he was not only moved by her beauty, but for who she was. It reminded of her of how her father looked at her mom, even when she was sick. It was one of her few memories that hadn't faded. She also knew there were no strings attached when he promoted her to CDC, but her heart demanded more with each passing day. She wanted to be Carmen's refuge and release in every way. This knowing was overwhelming and she was grateful that he moved slowly despite the hunger in his eyes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Natalie was working on-site when Carmen came into her office and closed the door.

"Hey Carm, how are you?"

"I'm good. Sorry, I didn't respond to your text last night. Baby PJ looked very cute in his White Sox outfit"

"Well, at least send a smiley face or something! But what's up?"

"So, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm interested in someone who works here."

"Oh, bro I know…so are you and Sydney official?"

Carmy brushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head.

"Were you never going to say anything?" he asked.

"The best thing a sister can do is stay out of it. It's brothers who get involved with their sister's romantic choices. Thank God, you couldn't run off Pete."

"Okay. No, we're not rushing into anything. So far, she allows me to walk her to and from work. And we talk everyday."

Natalie clutched her chest and sank down further into her chair.

"She allows you to…I CAN'T! I had no idea my baby brother was this sweet!"

"SUGAR, the point of me bringing this up is that some of the staff have been going behind my back to talk to her, icing her out, and there's been a rumor that we live together. I won't have it! Anyways, I figure you know the corporate way to handle it."

"Okay, we were going to discuss health insurance options for the next enrollment period during family service, but I can slide in a talk about relational professionalism."

"Thank you."

Natalie sighed and squeezed Carmy's hand.

"She allows you to walk with her! Oh, Pete is going to melt."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For old time's sake Sydney prepared Mikey's spaghetti recipe for family service. Carmy saved her a seat and she sat down next to him feeling Anna's bitter glances and Richie's disapproval. Marcus ignored them. As they ate Natalie gave the insurance presentation and then her politically correct professionalism talk. She took care to make it not obviously about Sydney and Carm. When she was done and people started to file out, Carmen asked for the original Beef staff to remain behind. They took their seats again looking intrigued.

He moved to stand at the head of the table.

"Alright, great…Okay. So I asked Natalie to give that talk. And thank you Nat, but I have something I need to say. too"

"So, You've all been here a long time. Before I came you already had each other's backs and then I took over. It was an adjustment. Then Sydney came and I had a partner from my world. There more changes but somehow we found a way to work together. Then we found the money and we started this. You all choosing to stay and gain new skills, means so much me and I know it does to you too.

The Bear is a special place because it's a family business. And not just because of Natalie and I, but it's all of you too. The thing is we got to have each other's backs. It's not enough to to get through service, get the reviews, a star, whatever, but we got to respect each other. You know that without Sydney and Natalie giving it everything they had during the reno, none of this would have happened. Where we're sitting would be a parking lot or a Dunkin's. Anyways, I'm disappointed that some in here saw everything Sydney did to help get us here and they're giving her crap because I like her. In HERE I respect all of you, everyone is paid fairly, given opportunities, and I care about you…your lives. She didn't do anything, but her job and she deserves your respect. Out THERE I hope to spend as much time with her as she'll let me. But in HERE we're a business and we're a family.

The silence was palpable. Sydney's eyes never left Carmy's face while he spoke and when he took the courage to meet them, he saw admiration there and her beautiful smile.

Tina broke the heavy mood.

"So, Jeff. Are y'all together? Are we what they a call a "mom and pop" now?"

Carmy grinned, still looking at Sydney.

"I'm working on it."

[hezzabeth]

The description of the space station is based on my own experiences during a ten hour layover in Singapore.

"Are you alright? Do you have a bout of telesickness?" Brigadeiro Bun asked as Revati stared off into space.

"Telewhat?" Revati asked, her brain snapping back into place.

When Amma and Nanni heard that Revati was about to go off-world, they tried to prepare her.

"It's not like your other wasteland adventures where you wandered into a city on foot! You'll need to buy tickets; then apply for a tourism visa," Amma explained.

"My what?" Revati asked, completely confused.

"The actual teleporting takes less than a second, but you will have to spend at least an hour in customs and immigration and four hours in the teleport waiting your turn," Nanni added.

It was all incredibly exhausting and confusing.

The teleport hub they were waiting in was deliberately designed to make people forget they were waiting. Bright, expensive shops with intricate displays created pathways to different teleportation gates. Massive, giant flowering bushes surrounded by clouds of butterflies brushed against the glass ceiling. In the center of everything, there was a crystal pond. Robotic bronze mermaids swam up and down underneath the lily pads.

"Telesickness! It's okay, a lot of people not used to teleporting end up with upset stomachs," Brigadeiro reassured her, handing her something small and pink from his shirt pocket.

"This should help, their stomach stabilizers! I bought them in the bathroom," Brigadeiro smiled helpfully, and Revati took one, popping it into her mouth before promptly spitting it out.

"It tastes like gasoline," Revati grimaced.

"You're not supposed to eat it! You rub it on your temples," Brigadeiro explained gently before picking the stomach stabilizer up off her lap.

"Please don't rub that all over my temples; it has my spit on it," Revati pointed out, shutting her eyes.

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Brigadeiro asked.

"I'm just exhausted; we've teleported so many times I have no idea where we are," Revati sighed, closing her gritty eyes.

"We're at the Anh Do memorial teleport hub; he was a figure from southwest Sydney legends! When he was a baby, he was on a boat attacked by pirates. Then he grew up to become a famous children's writer and artist," Brigadeiro rattled on.

Revati felt herself slump to one side with exhaustion, her head landing on something soft.

Brigadeiro's home wasn't even technically a planet. Rather, it was a series of six space stations, each representing different areas of a land once known as "Australia." The Southwest Sydney Station was so big it had its own weather patterns, ecosystem, and geography. Most of it consisted of expensive tourist resorts, beachside towns, and theme parks. Brigadeiro had explained many times before that his family was part of the 15 million-strong workforce that lived in the secret employee-only towns and cities. Someone, hopefully Brigadeiro, was gently massaging her scalp, and Revati felt herself fall into a drowsy, dark state.

Revati wasn't sure how long she had been snoozing when the screaming sirens suddenly filled the air. Revati's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and her eyes snapped open. Within seconds, she was back on her feet, reaching for her mace.

"You had to leave the weapon at security back on Mars," Brigadeiro reminded her as hundreds of people suddenly started flowing out of the teleport gates. The air was thick with sirens and flashing blue lights as the crowd swelled around her. Brigadeiro snatched her hand, and together they were swept forward in the tidal wave of chaos.

People were everywhere, their faces blurred by the rapidity of the moment, their shouts and cries a blurry nonsense of at least a dozen different languages. In a second of terror, Revati found herself thrown down. Feet pounded on her back as she curled herself up into a ball. There was a sudden break in people, and Revati saw a glimpse of the mermaid pool. Revati forced herself forward and grabbed the pool's safety fence, hauling herself over the edge. She landed with a splash into the shallow water. For a few moments, all Revati could hear was the pounding of the mob and sirens.

All Revati could feel was her body as the robot mermaids bumped into her before swimming away. The glass ceiling above had clouded over, turning an eerie white. There was a sudden buzzing on Revati's wrist, indicating her bangle had an incoming call. It was the android. Of course, it was.

"Ignore," Revati groaned, sitting up, and a tiny mermaid bounced off her cleavage. Somehow, half her shirt had managed to get ripped off. The crowd wasn't as thick, but people were still charging past the shops heading to some unknown destination. The sirens suddenly stopped.

"All interstellar teleport gates have been switched off temporarily! We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused," a lady's voice chimed over the speakers. People slowly stopped running and instead began to shuffle around.

Tiny first aid drones began to zoom out of the shops, attending to the fallen. Through it all, Revati scanned and searched. Spotting Brigadeiro was far harder than usual since many people in the hub had pink, curly hair. Finally, she saw him across the crowd in the doorway of a chocolate shop. A woman was lying at his feet. Revati slowly stood, her legs wobbling, before climbing out of the pond. By the time she managed to push her way through to the storefront, she had heard several whispers. There had been an attack on another Space Station known as “Cairnes”. The crowd consisted of tourists and travelers who fled when an employee opened up a teleportation gate during the attack. Brigadeiro was attending to the woman who was bleeding all over the shop floor from a gash on her temples.

"Oh, thank Goup!" Brigadeiro cried, wrapping Revati in a smothering hug. Brigadeiro was, of course, a little shorter than her, and he nuzzled his face into her shoulder, sobbing.

"It's alright, I'm fine," Revati assured him, petting his back, and Brigadeiro sobbed.

"It's not that; Cairnes has been destroyed! Millions are dead," Brigadeiro's voice choked.

"Destroyed?" Revati gasped. The bleeding lady on the ground twitched, and Revati let go of Brigadeiro in order to check her. The lady was a bit older than Revati, probably in her late twenties. She had the pale, sickly skin and brighter blue hair of those who came from the northern parts of Mars. Her haircut, however, was similar to the trendy “mushroom cap” style she had seen on the space station – short with a blunt fringe. Revati reached into one of her pants pockets, pulling out a trusty medibandage, and stuck it onto the woman’s temple. Even while unconscious, she had the expression of someone fully capable of starting a riot in a coffee shop. It clashed violently with her bright purple tropical print shirt and neon pink watch. The watch. Revati grabbed the unconscious lady's hand to examine the watch.

"SOS Emergency Medical Information," she said to the watch. Its screen flickered, and a tiny 3D hologram of the lady appeared.

"My name is Pauletta Chuchotor, I am twenty-nine years old! My blood type is B- and I'm allergic to Venusian swamp gas," the hologram said cheerfully, and suddenly the hologram switched off as tight fingers wrapped themselves around Revati's wrist.

Revati glanced at the lady who was now staring at her with bloodshot green eyes.

"My personal information isn't for you," she said in a deep, raspy voice.

"Good to know," Revati said. Pauletta Chuchotor was staring at her curiously.

"I don't forget faces easily," she said, her fingernails still digging into Revati's wrist.

"Ok," Revati replied uneasily, wondering if the lady had a brain injury.

"You look a little like someone I met a long time ago," Pauletta said, as if accusing Revati of something terrible.

"I got a message from Dad; the news says all the teleporting hubs have been shut down! He says we should leave the hub and take the workers' bullet train back to Paprika Station before they stop running," Brigadeiro said, gesturing to his grey bracelet.

"A bullet train? Like the one in Olde Landon? I thought this space station was supposed to be super advanced?" Revati asked, completely confused.

"It is, but teleportation has a weight limit of six hundred kilograms; the trains are used when we need to transport bulk goods and supplies to different resorts," Brigadeiro explained.

"I also need to go to this Paprika Station; I will follow you," Pauletta Chuchotor remarked, and Revati exchanged a look with Brigadeiro.

"I mean, it's not like we can stop her," Brigadeiro pointed out.

The train ride to Paprika Station turned out to be far more exhausting, bewildering, and strangely smelly than teleporting. Everyone seemed to know Brigadeiro Bun, and by extension, everyone seemed to know Revati.

"Bridgadeiro! Your mama said you would be back for Applefestus! And is this the famous Revati from Mars?" An old lady with orange hair said to them as they waited for the train.

"I may have mentioned you in my messages home; this is my mother's friend Mrs. Jambalaya from church," Brigadeiro said as the old lady descended onto Revati in a cloud of vanilla perfume.

"Oh, she's so pretty! Such big amber eyes! And who's that?" She asked, nodding at Pauletta, who was standing several feet away from them, staring into the distance.

"No idea, we think she's an injured tourist," Brigadeiro admitted as Revati quietly blushed. No one in Olde Landon had ever called her pretty.

"Bridge! Did you hear about the terrorist attack? My dad said appliances from Mars did it," someone yelled when they finally got onto the cramped train. A teenage boy with dark skin and fuchsia braids was waving at them from a row of seats.

"We were at the capital telehub when it happened! Revati, this is my cousin Pecan," Brigadeiro explained as they sat down.

Pecan gasped with horror. "Oh, Goup! You're the girl Bridge is bringing home for Applefestus! You probably don't want us talking about the war," Pecan remarked.

"It's fine; I'm too tired and freaked out to care," Revati assured him.

"Why don't you take a nap? The ride to Paprika Station takes around four hours," Brigadeiro said, tapping his shoulder. Revati sighed gratefully, her head dropping onto his shoulder. Before her eyes shut, she spotted Pauletta standing on the other side of the carriage, staring at her with dried blood still in her hair.

[az-cain]

Hey! I saw you were taking requests. And I kinda have two because I need some fluff in my life rn. I have been so sick and just need some relief. Could I get one Bob x reader where maybe his SO is an advocate and she is traveling all the time. So, it can be like her coming to visit after being overseas. And one Rhett Abbott x reader. Maybe him taking care of a sick reader. Or whatever you decide. ☺️ thank you so much.

thanks for the request!!! only thing i didn’t know/couldn’t figure out was what you meant by an advocate, so y/n is a professional pilot.

i hope you’re feeling better <333

tw for: idk being really tired? also being sick w like the flu. other than that, nothing.

The airport was always so damn loud. The clash and clamor of thousands of angry customers, grumpy fathers, and wailing children created a din comparable to a jumbo jet. When you emerged from your plane, having spent the last 15 hours manning a plane on a flight from Sydney, Australia, it was even worse. The contrast from the noise-canceling headgear and the occasional chatter with your copilot was nothing in comparison to this auditory hell.

Hauling a light suitcase, you weaved through the hordes, dodging children and parents left and right. Some smiled kindly at you, to which you sleepily nodded in return, but mostly you kept your eyes on the next doorway you had to pass through.

After about 20 minutes navigating the inside of the building, you finally emerged into the line of cars waiting for their passengers. After lethargically searching your pockets for your phone, you dialed Robby’s number and called him. Two rings sounded from directly behind you before you whipped around, only for his arms to wrap around you swiftly.

“I missed you, honey,” he murmured into your hair. Tears slid down your face, so glad to see him again after he’d been deployed for months. On top of that, the hard trip you’d just had only amplified your loneliness.

“Missed you too, Rob.” You whispered, squeezing him tightly. “Can we leave, though? I’m so tired.”

Nodding with a smile, he released you only to clasp your hand as tightly as he had your body. He guided you to the car that Jake had driven here and let you in before he walked to his own side. You’d buckled yourself into the middle seat so you could lean against him. The car shifted into drive after you thanked Jake, who responded only with a nod and a smile, and it remained silent for a few minutes as he navigated through the convoluted airport roads.

“They delayed us three times. Diverted us once.”

“Oh, god,” he murmured, looking down at you in disgust.

“Yeah. That was on the way out. On the way in, they just diverted us after about 30 minutes’ talk with ATC.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m sure you’re tired.” You nodded against him. “Get some rest. I’ll take you inside.”

You hummed quietly, sleep overcoming you. “You don’t h…”

—

Apparently he did have to, because all you remembered the next morning was a brief flash of light when the car door opened, strong, warm arms being wrapped around you, and a slight jostle as you were pulled from the car.

You found yourself in clean underwear and Robby’s Navy PT shirt, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by the scent of him.

His bed was warm, the sun shining onto the white comforter with all its morning might, but his body was warmer as you turned to face him. You found his eyes already open, the deep blue perusing your face like the two of you had all the time in the world.

Hell, maybe you did.

He kissed your nose and asked how you slept, and you melted. Absorbed by how much you loved him, by all of the thoughts, emotions, vows, and proposals running through your mind, you forgot to answer for a moment.

Realizing that he’d asked you a question when he leaned back to grab his glasses, you shook back to consciousness and responded with a kiss to his nose and an “I slept really well. You?”

He grinned lazily, those glasses pushing up on his cheeks, and told you that he slept better than ever.

—

The first thing Rhett heard when he woke up was coughing. Hacking, really. It sounded like someone’s lungs were coming out in pieces, being ripped to shreds. The second thing was groans. Maybe that person’s lungs were being ripped to shreds, by the sound of those groans.

You were sitting in the sun-decorated living room, haven gotten up to grab some water, convinced this coughing fit was due to allergies, and collapsed to the couch with a dizzy spell. And yes, your lungs were being ripped to shreds. Rhett sidled up next to you, arm around your shoulders, and cooed gently. “Oh, baby, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Glaring lightheartedly at him, you wheezed, “Apparently I did.”

“Not intentionally,” he nudged your side, “and you’re burning up. What have you taken?”

Mother goose Rhett was a rare treat that few got to see, but right now you felt that he was overexaggerating the needed response to a high pollen count.

“Rhett,” you paused to hack loudly into a tissue, “I’m not sick.”

“Well, then, I’m sure the doctor will say the same,” he raised his brows in question.

You leaned your head back against the back of the couch with a wheezing whine and conceded, “Okay maybe. But just drug me up, don’t make me go to the doctor.”

“Yes ma’am, now what hurts? Just the cough?”

You buried your face in his shoulder and shook your head. Muffled, you said “Head. And my throat. And also my bones. Everything?”

One hand rubbing over your back, he pushed you off of him slowly and stood up, heading for the kitchen. He returned with, you noted through one cracked eye, bottles upon bottles of medicine. “Open up, sugar.”

“Mm-mm.”

“Open uuuuup,” he poked you in the sides, trying to get you to laugh, but you just wheezed in pain and opened your mouth. Still, it accomplished his goal, because he stuck two pills in your mouth and you opened your mouth in distaste and beckoned for some water.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, throat dry only moments after drinking water.

“Tylenol and a decongestant,” he said, already grabbing something else. “And this is Vitamin C,” he said, handing you a little gummy.

Once you’d chewed it up and swallowed it, he settled in beside you and nestled your back against his chest. Pinned between his legs and reclined just enough to let yourself breathe, you laid against him. His hands came up to your head, rubbing at your scalp and temples. You moaned quietly, thanking him and taking his hum as permission to sleep. By the time you fell asleep, his hands were pressing into your aching temples and he was watching you silently, a smile on his face regardless of the fact that he knew he’d be sick by noon.