#chef luca x reader
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give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca
pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader
word count: 4.7k
warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀
notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think!
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03:49 PM
Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.
Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.
And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.
So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.
Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…
Fine enough.
But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”
You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”
Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”
“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.
There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.
“Hey.”
If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.
Still.
You can’t help that you miss him.
“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.
He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.
“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”
“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”
“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”
“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.
You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.
Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.
Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.
“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”
“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.
“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”
He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”
You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.
“How’s Alfie doing in school?”
“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.
“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”
You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.
“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”
“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.
He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”
“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.
A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.
You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.
The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.
Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.
The same vulnerable look.
“Hey, bub.”
“Hi.”
“Can I get a hug?”
There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.
“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”
“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.
“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin.
Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”
Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”
“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.
The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.
But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine.
And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.
“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”
“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.
“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.
Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”
“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.
“It’s your dad’s time—”
“No!”
“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight.
But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.
So much for quality time with his son.
Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”
“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“
“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”
It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.
“Alright, fine.”
“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”
You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”
Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.
“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”
Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”
Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.
“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”
“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”
He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either.
“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.
God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall.
Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”
“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”
Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father.
“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”
Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”
“What, are you trying to kick me out?”
“No, I just—”
Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”
He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”
You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…
Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together.
With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.
***
05:04 PM
By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.
“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”
Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.
Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.
“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”
The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”
“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.
Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”
“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”
His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”
“Why? You don’t miss home?”
There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.
He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma.
Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up.
Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”
“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.
“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”
Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”
The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”
“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head.
You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.
“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.
“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?
He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”
“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.
You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms.
“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.
“Can I watch Bluey now?”
You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”
Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”
“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”
Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.
Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Your meeting went okay?”
“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”
“Yeah…”
You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”
Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…
“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.
You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”
You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”
“Don’t forget your crayons!”
Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”
“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”
The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”
There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household.
“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.
You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”
“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”
Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”
“Er, kind of.”
“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.
Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”
“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?
“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.
He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”
“You never taught me how to do it, though.”
“Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”
You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”
He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”
For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.
And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?
“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”
You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.
“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”
You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating.
“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.
“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”
“What’s a burr, sir?”
Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“
Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…
In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…
“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”
Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.
“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?”
“That’s basically it, yeah.”
The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.
“Listen, I—”
“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.
It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.
***
if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!
#will poulter#chef luca#luca the bear#the bear fx#chef luca x reader#luca x reader#chef luca x ex-wife!reader#chef luca fic#chef luca smut#will poulter fic#will poulter fluff#will poulter angst#will poulter smut#ava writes
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Pastry Chef Luca of the Bear Masterlist
burn your life down: (pastry chef luca x fem!reader)
leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep. it's a story about learning how to fall in love again, about second chances, finding inspiration, and that sometimes, change can be really, really good. (completed)
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen
don't you worry there's still time (pastry chef luca oneshot, from the world of 'burn your life down')
headcanon: new year's ever & day with luca
burn your life down bonus content
meeting pastry chef luca headcanon (teaser for 'burn your life down')
pov: you're the main character of 'burn your life down' and this is your instagram grid (moodboard/social media pov)
pov: youre the head chef of kokuore - the restaurant in 'burn your life down'
a behind the scenes look at 'burn your life down'
the secondary characters - the kimuras & the mikkelson twins
instagram profiles for the secondary characters by @translatemunson
#chef luca#will poulter#luca the bear#the bear season 2#the bear headcanon#luca x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#chef luca x reader#pastry chef luca#burn your life down
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My Christmas gift for you.
Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)
Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.
Word count ~2,8k
Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut
A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!
Merry Christmas everyone!
Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)
Things were a little different at the Beef lately.
“Richie, shut the fuck up!”
“You first, child!”
Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?
It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.
The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.
One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.
“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.
You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.
His hand went up to brush through his curls.
“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”
You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.
“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”
Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.
Everything changed after the Beef closed down.
Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.
“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.
“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.
“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.
“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.
“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.
Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”
“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.
“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.
“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”
An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there.
Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.
The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.
You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.
Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's.
The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love.
She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.
“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.
“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”
You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.
“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.
You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.
“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.
“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”
Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.
“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”
“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”
“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?
“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”
You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.
You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.
“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”
“Hi,” you smile at him.
“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”
“Oh I'm not, I'm -”
“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.
Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.
“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.
“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.
“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”
“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”
Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.
After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized.
“Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up.
“Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.
Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.
“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up.
“Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?”
“They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.
“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.
Luca seems interested. “In what way?”
“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.
“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.
“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”
Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.
Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression.
“So where is he now?” you ask.
“Who?”
“The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him.
“Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction.
Huh?
Your heart drops.
What?
You let out a nervous scoff.
“You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working.
“Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused.
“God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that?
“You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer.
You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird.
Luca notices your hesitation.
“You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.”
“Yeah, he shared something like that.”
His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there.
“My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.
Later that day you wanted to call Carmen.
“Carm, you free?”
You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too.
“not rn, Liv, busy”
Of course.
“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her.
“What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands.
“It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school.
“What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest.
“The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it.
You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better.
You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.
"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"
I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it
Snippet from the next chapters
🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds
Dividers by @saradika
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto#carmy x you#carmy x reader#the bear season 2#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto angst#the bear fx#the bear fic#the bear fanfiction#chef luca#chef luca x reader#chef luca x you#luca the bear#luca x reader#the bear show#carmy x y/n#copenhagen#the bear series
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Always have but never hold
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a/n and I welcome you to a part five. Five? I genuinely wasn't expecting this to turn into a series but look at us. Love this story to bits. But it wouldn't be here without all of you so thank you and enjoy!✨🤍
warning: shouting, swearing, fighting, mental health issues, panic attacks, past trauma.
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That day, Carmen had waited for you to show up, and the restaurant was decked out. Well, deked out in that shit hold meant a clean tablecloth, a couple of candles that he had found in the basement, and a nice warm meal he had made—the one you loved the most, the one that always, without fail, brought a smile to your face. Because right next to the fear of failing Mikey was the fear of failing you. He knew that he hadn't been himself. There was so much in his head that, at times, Carmy felt that there was someone there talking back at him. But then you would show up—or not even that. When the images from the past were crushing him, all Carmy needed was to see you. That was all, and suddenly he could breathe again. No one was screaming around him or at him.
"You're jittering like a little bitch", Richie had stepped out for a smoke when he found Carmen nearly bouncing like an atom from side to side in the back alley, as if he was trying to create friction for an explanation. The kid was a mess. Always a mess. But then he would go home or you would show up, and it's like a reset button would be pressed. "Fuck off", Carmen hissed at him, pulling out his phone for what felt like a million times and quickly glancing down the street. "What's going on, Carm?" Richie's voice was almost soothing. As if he had given up on the shit he usually did. As if he felt that this might be lethal. Might change something. Might lead to some absolute chaos.
Carmy let out a frustrated sigh, "She's not here... Should have been here thirty minutes ago... She... she should", running his hand through his hair in hopes of pushing the messy curls away from his face, Carmen pressed the call ID once more. "Your girl?", Richie asked, and Carmen just nodded. Cursing once the line went dead. His hand ran over his chest. You'd always tell him to take a deep breath and then exhale in three. A shiver ran down his back as he could almost just make out your voice telling him that.
Richie's video pierced the silence, "Has she been okay?", had Carmen always wanted to punch Richie, or was this a sensation that only bloomed now? Was he trying to tell Carmy that he had missed something? That he missed something, but Richie didn't. "No, she has not fucked been okay, okay?", Carmen spat, moving to walk again, shaking his hands as the light needles started to pinch the very tips. "She's been upset; she wakes up screaming; she pukes most nights; she...", he blurred you. And now all he could see was you. You all pale by the toilet. You holding back tears. You pushing him away only to hold onto him so tight that Carmy could barely breathe. The spark that Carmen loved so much within you was fading. You weren't you, and he just let that be. Let you self-sabotage.
"One day", you had told him the first time you had woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, "I'll tell you, just not now". And what ripped at Carmy the most was that those dreams had stopped. Not immediately, but they did, and you slept through the night perfectly. And you had told him that it was because he was there holding you. Because you felt safe. Carmy made someone feel safe, and now... you didn't? You were screaming again.
"Fuck", Carmen barked, kicking the trash can, clenching his first up so that he wouldn't yank it over. "I called her", and Carmy almost missed that because Richie's voice was barely a whisper. "What?", Carmen turned to him, stepping closer. Richie throws his cigarette to the ground. "That night after the... when she cut her hand... I just", the man admitted, and for the first time, Carmy was seeing emotions that he hadn't seen before in his face. "Richie, what the fuck are you talking about?", Carmy said, still confused, "I called her because I..", Richie stopped, running his hand over his mouth, "I called her a burden from New York and told some pretty shit...", "You fucking what?", now Carmy was all up in Richie's face, and the sheer anger in his blue eyes...
"I called to apologize, cousin", "Have you been giving her shit this whole time?", Carmen was a step away from ripping at Richie's shirt. Because fuck, does it all make sense now? "Carmy", Richie pleaded, "Have you been giving her shit, you son of a bitch?", now his fingers were gripping the material of the beef shirt, wanking at it and ripping the fabric apart. Shouting shit. Carmen didn't even understand himself until his knuckles came in contact with the cold wall, and he realized he had missed Richie's face.
Carmen was calling your phone over and over again as he made his way back. He ignored the street signs and the red stop lights. They could all fuck themselves. You were going to be there. You were. You didn't make it to the restaurant because you got lost in unpacking. Yeah, that's what it was. And you... And he was going to apologize. Crowl to you if he had to. How did he manage to miss Richie giving you shit and eating at you? Carmy left his car half on the street as he ran towards the door. Skipping every other step as he rushed to your floor. Heart beat faster and faster with every step as the number of doors changed.
Carmen wasn't sure what he was truly expecting, but it sure wasn't to see Claire sitting in the living room, flipping through some of your art books. Carmen had to blink a couple of times because this couldn't be true, right? She smiled at him the moment her eyes landed on Carmen, but he only looked at her as if she was a dead body walking. "What... why are you here?", Carmen stuttered, shaking his head as Claire stepped closer to him. "I wanted to surprise you. You didn't answer any of my calls and..."
But he doesn't even let her finish as he turns away from her shouting, "Y/N, Y/N!" Carmen yanked the bedroom door open, nearly tripping over one of his shoes that was thrown across the room. It was a mess. The drawer that held your day-to-day clothes was empty. The hoodie—his hoodie—that you had worn when Carmy left a couple of hours ago was thrown to the floor carelessly. "Fuck no, Y/N!", Carmen rushed to the bathroom, but there was nothing there. A messy sink opened up cabinets.
"What did you say? What did you say?", he turned back around because he could feel Claire following him all of this time. "Carmen, she moved out. Didn't you know?", she said in such a soft voice that made Carmen want to vomit. "Moved... What? What? No...", his brain felt like it was overheating. You can't be moving out. No, you wouldn't. You...
"Your roommate", Claire said, and Carmy had lost the last piece of coolness he had. "What fucking roommate, Claire?", he barked out, making the woman step back slightly. "What roommate? That was my fucking girlfriend", he spat out. Claire looked at him with big eyes. Eyes that were almost glistening with tears but that didn't pull a single string in Carmy's heart. His world was crumbling there and then. Right at this moment. It was slipping through his fingers.
"I'll love you forever", Carmy had whispered one night. You were pressed against his naked chest, running your fingers over his tattoos. You hadn't been talking for some time. The comforting silence was more than enough. Your naked frame was so close to his that it felt like you were seeping into his skin, and Carmy never wanted that feeling to fade. "You don't believe in forevers", you muttered, pressing a light kiss to his chest before your eyes met his, and Carmen needed to do a double inhale because the share beauty of you was so raw, so real, so here, so his, and so unimaginably gorgeous, right here in his arms. He had managed to find you. Someone who understood. Someone who was okay with his shit. Someone who saw him whole and didn't turn away. Someone willing to embrace him even with all the trauma and scars that were still hurting. "I believe in a forever with you", Carmy had whispered, and the way your eyes had sparked. Carmy had never seen eyes shine so brightly before, and he had ignited them. He only hoped that you saw the way you were healing him too.
"Fuck", Carmen said, nearly collapsing to the floor when the ringing sound faded, and he could hear something on the other end. "Thank you, thank you; Where are you?", he muttered, starting to pace once again. But there was no answer. Carmy pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the seconds running on his screen. You had answered; he wasn't imagining it. "Y/N, baby, where are you?", Carmy begged. He had no right to; he knew that, but he still did.
"The other girlfriend didn't pick up her phone this time?", you asked so bitterly that the blood in Carmy's body had frozen as he fell silent. "There's no other...", Carmy barely whispered, and you let out a bitter laugh while still sniffing. "She walked into our home, Carmen, OUR home! Shinning like a fucking Christmas tree", the words felt like venom. Stinging. Poisonous. Raw. Your breathing was uneven.
"I'm not...", he rasped out once more, not sure how or what to say when someone honked in the background of your call, "Are you fucking driving? Get out of the car! Stop the car", he raised his voice instantly. You were going to die. Crash the car. Drive into someone. Not stop in time. Like Mikey, you were going to rip the last good thing out of him and leave him alone in this shity world. But it's like you weren't even listening to him. "I saw the messages", a cry left your lips, "You fucking shit". Carmen fell numb at that. His eyes raised to meet a lost-looking Claire, who was still there, standing a handful of steps away from him.
"How long, huh? Was I not good enough?", your voice pierced Carmy's mind. Now. Only now did he realize how this looked. What he's been doing What he's been putting you through because he was selfish. A selfie piece of shit because he was holding onto something. Like a kid too scared to give up a pacifier. "Speak, you fucking ass, own up to it", you said in a loud voice. He could feel your pain now. Almos heard every single tear that was slipping down your cheeks. "She's the only good fucking thing from my past, okay? My family—all of them loved her; she—everyone wanted her. She made me feel stable like it's... but... but I'm not", Carmen didn't get to finish his words as the most painful sob rang out. Somehow even more painful than the night he held you in the bathroom. Just that night, he didn't know what had caused it; now it was him. All of this was on him.
"Fuck you, Camen, fuck you", you crocked out. "No, listen, let me..." he pleaded, but you were having none of it. "Be happy with her then. Fucking thrive!", you spat with an angry rasp, yelling at someone for cutting in front of you, leaving Carmy to cringe at the thought of you crashing the car once more. "No, listen, you're not listening", he tried much softer now. He wasn't sure what to do. How was he going to find you? Should he go to his car? Drive around? Make a false call to the police? What the fuck was he supposed to do?
"No, you fucking listen! I gave you everything. I gave up everything for you fucking...", another sob slipped past your lisp, and Carmen could hear the car speeding up with every word you said, "I did everything for you, and you do this after everything? You have no heart, you asshole!". Carmen felt tears slipping down his cheeks; his throat was tight, and his chest heavy. But he was fighting every single thought that was telling him this was it. He couldn't. He didn't know how to function without you. You were the thing holding him together. He couldn't...
"I love you; come back, yeah? We will figure this out", he pleaded again, gripping the phone so tightly in his hand and ripping at the roots of his hair with the other. The silence fell for a moment. For a moment, a flicker of hope ignited. You heard him, yeah. You will be back soon. Carmen will explain it all. He will make it better. He will save this. He will get you back. You will be there, and his heart won't explode. "Fuck you! Now you can get rid of your New York burden forever", the words washed over him like a wave. Like a wave, you weren't expecting to crash over you. Like something had wrapped itself around your leg and yanked you under. "No, Y/N, no, hey", Carmen said, but the line went dead. The beeping filled his ears. And for a second, Carmen thought that was the monitor telling him, well, pal, your heart just stopped. You've died. In approximately less than a minute, your body won't have enough oxygen. Your brain will die, and you will be gone.
With shaky hands, Carmy dialed your number again and again and again and again, and it went straight to your voicemail. "No, fuck", he tried once more, hoping and praying to whatever god he believed in. You couldn't walk away. He needed you. He couldn't do this without you. "Pick up, pick the fucking...Fuck", Carmen yelled, throwing the phone at the wall. Screaming at the top of his lungs as he watches the light pieces scattered across the floor.
"Carmy", his name, made him want to vomit as he turned his head to the side. "Get the fuck out", he roared, pointing his finger to the door. "Carmen, baby", Claire pleaded, daring to step closer but regretting that decision straight away when Carmy's hands gripped her upper arm painfully tight. "Im not your fucking baby!", he roared, making her shiver. He wasn't seen clearly. He wasn't seeing at all. Solid colors only. The drumming in his ears was so painful that he wanted to rip his head open and make it stop. "Carm", Claire pleaded, trying to touch his cheek, but he stopped her palm midway before shoving her close to the door. "Get the fuck out, or I throw you out the window".
Carmen doesn't remember when or how she left. The static in the room was driving him insane. He walked aimlessly around the apartment. He choked for air. He shouted your name. He shouted for help. Clawing with his fingers at his throat because he couldn't... there was no air. Nothing. He hit his head a couple of times with his hands, aimlessly turning around and searching. Searching for you. But you weren't here. You will not be here. Never will be here. He wasn't sure how long he trashed the place, throwing things around.
Carmy only remembered popping two pills in his mouth. He remembered digging through the drawers. Looking for any piece of clothing that belonged to you. He remembered crawling into bed still fully clothed, shoes on, jacket on. Pressing your shirt closer to his chest, breathing in the scent of you. Shutting his eyes as tightly as possible, trying to imagine you here. You're just in the bathroom. You will come back soon. You will lie beside him. You will go back to bed. He could sleep now. He would not be alone. He was alone.
"Look at me", he gripped your chin firmly, "Say it again and fucking mean it". You were trembling. Jittering to get away. To push back, but that only earned you a firmer grip. "I'm no one. Will never be enough", you whispered, trying to hold onto his wrist so he wouldn't shatter your neck. "And?", he shook your whole body with the yank of his hand. There were going to be bruises tomorrow. "And I should be thankful that you are here with me and that you spare me your time", you muttered, a sickly smirk spreading across his face. "Exactly, you worthless piece of shit."
Your body jerked up only to be met by the firm press of someone's palm pushing into your chest, making you let out a scream in return. A scream that was met with touche down your back and a feeling of a warm embrace. A calm heartbeat. Steady. Familiar. You felt stuffy and warm. Sticky from the sweat your shirt was soaked in. Clinging to your body. Feeling like the hands that gripped you in your sleep. You quickly moved to pull at it, trying to free yourself from that dirty feeling. To let your body be free. Scratch that uncomfortable, sick feeling. You dropped the damp material away, clenching your fingers at the still-lingering sweat there that you wanted off.
Then you remembered the feeling of someone's hands that still lingered, jerking away and nearly falling from the bed. Only to be met with the same arms holding onto you. And you let them guide you into that same warmth. Your damp skin presses against the soft skin. "You're in Copenhagen, not London", the voice said. That deep, calm, soothing voice rang in your ear, and your fingers instantly curled around the biceps. Before moving to graze his side, holding, savoring, and grounding, "I've got you, bunny".
The air was much crisper here. Mornings so much calmer. No one cursed in the streets. No one shouted. Everyone, even the people you didn't know, greeted you with a quick hello as they passed you with their bikes. Your mind was as scrambled, if not more so, as the day you came here. How you managed to find, sit, and navigate your way here was beyond you. Because you weren't here. Mentally, you felt dead. Drained to the point where you cried for the first 48 hours here. Then sleep for approximately the same time. Nothing made sense anymore. The gaping, black, bleeding hole in your chest ached without any signs of stopping anytime soon.
"Hi", you muttered, stepping into the much warmer building and enveloping in the smells that made your stomach growl. The guy in front of you smiled, "At the back, you know it", he pointed towards the back room. "Thank you, Chris", you smiled at him softly, tugging at your scarf as you walked past the front desk. The kitchen was silent. Someone was humming, and you could hear a light tune of music coming from someone's headphones.
The blue eyes caught your gaze almost immediately. Dropping a piece of dough onto the table before whipping his hand on his apron. "Finish up in here, chefs. I'll be back in a few", his voice was firm. But so much calmer. Straight. Strong but calm. Maybe it was his self-esteem that made every sound that came out of his mouth undeniably soothing.
"Hey, bunny", Luca said, his hands wrapped around you, with you two still standing in the middle of the kitchen. You buried your face in his chest. Breathing in his cologne. "Hi, do you have a minute?", you tilted your head up at him. Sometimes you forgot the height difference between the two of you. The way he towed over you. If you wanted to reach his shoulders, you would have to stand on your tippy toes. It's hard to imagine that, at some point, you used to be higher than him. Until puberty hit and the roles were reversed. "For you always", he said with a light kiss on your forehead as he guided you out the back.
That's what it was. Luca was the polar opposite of Carmen. Where Carmen's anxiety only edged you, Luca was a wall of steel, calm, and inner peace. Making a perfect shelter for your anxiety and fears. "Did you manage to sleep at all after I left?", Luca asked, handing you a freshly baked rabarberhorn that you didn't even notice him picking up as you walked out. Tears welled in your eyes as you held on to the still-warm baked good.
"Hey, what's this all about, huh?", Luca tilted your head up softly at the sight of the tears, pulling the little outdoor chair you had sat on closer to him. "You're too fucking good to me", you muttered, watching his strong gaze. Luca let out a sigh, leaning closer to you, "I promised to always be there, didn't I?", "You could just walk away and trick me and...", his palm cupped your cheek. "We went over this many times. I'm not them, and you're worth it," he said as you leaned in and pressed your forehead against his. Letting the fog in your brain ease up slowly. Luca ordered you to eat up shortly, muttering something about how he added extra rhubarb and marzipan just for you and that you shouldn't tell anyone about that because he might get a line of unhappy customers.
Luca lit up a cigarette, offering it to you after a couple of drags. "Did he call?", the question stiffened your bones, but you knew that, in a way, you still owed him a full story of what happened. I mean, you just showed up at his house, snot running down your nose, eyes as red as if you were smoking weed for the past week." Called, texted, left voicemails, sent an email, even", you let a warm inhaler ripple through your system. Welcoming the sensation before puffing out a cloud of smoke. "I didn't reply to any of it", you chuckled lightly, "yet I tell myself that I don't care, but I... I stop and shiver constantly at the thought of something happening to him. I would be the one to blame if he..."
Luka shook his head, taking the cigarette from your fingers. "A, it's good that you haven't, and B, you wouldn't be". You wanted to argue back, but the look in Luca's eyes was clear enough. He wouldn't back away until you agreed, so you dropped it. "Well, if not that, then I feel guilty for leaving Sydney and Marcus there; I care about them", you picked at the side of the pastry, not lifting your gaze up. "Don't write me off as a dick, bunny but..,", Luca muttered, "You care about them, Carmy included, but who cares about you?"
You wanted to argue about that, but you stopped mid-sentence. There was truth in his voice. Those people were mostly strangers. You weren't meeting up with them. You didn't even have their number, now that you thought about it. Chicago was a ghost town for you. Unfamiliar and cold. They all probably haven't even noticed that you were gone. Was Carmy with Claire now? Maybe she moved in... but in a week?
You stood up quickly, dropping the rabarberhorn on your chair as you motioned for Luca to push his chair further away before you set on his lap, hiding your tears in the crook of his neck. You felt him shaking his head, but he held back on the words that were lingering at the tip of his tongue. Luca's fingers quickly brushed through your hair as he held you close. Just like he had been for the past week.
"Did you tell him about Ezra?", now this question tore through your body as if someone had come up and started skinning you there and then. You knew that Luca was smart. You know that from what you told him, he was putting the dots together. You shook your head just as another wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, and you clenched Luca's blue shirt between your fingers. "Why, bun? That's some serious shit you...", but you cut him off midway, "Because Carmen was staring to remind me of him".
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child there's so many of you here now, my little heart is so happy 🥺🥺🥺
#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy the bear#luca the bear#chef luca#the bear imagine#the bear x reader#chef luca x reader
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You’re My Peace
Chef Luca x f!reader
TW: angsty Luca (before his Carmy epiphany), hurt/comfort-ish, cursing, established relationship
AN: I just love him 🥹 lmk what else reader x Luca should get up to! Thank you for reading 🫶
You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally heard the front door to your apartment open. You’d been in bed for an hour or two, but you couldn’t sleep without Luca softly snoring next to you, looking like your own personal Adonis even in his sleep.
He started rustling around in the kitchen as soon as the door shut, so you decided you’d get up and see what he was doing. Plus, you needed to know why he wasn’t coming to bed.
“Baby, what’s going on?” You ask groggily, startled that every light was on in the kitchen in the middle of the night, “Are you alright?”
“Sorry, my love, didn’t mean to wake you,” He stepped over to you and pecked a soft kiss into your forehead before turning back to the counter.
You stood in silence a moment, trying to make sense of all the utensils and plates Luca was pulling out of the cabinets at 1:30 — no, 1:33, you noticed — in the morning. He’d already been gone all day at school, putting in hours more than required.
“Baby,” You sighed and closed the gap between you, gently grabbing his face and making him look down at you, “Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow? You have to be tired, Lu.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning over you so his lungs filled with the scent of your coconut shampoo. His lips pressed into the top of your head for a moment before he started to speak.
“I’ll be 10 minutes, love, I promise,” He kissed your forehead again, “Then I’ll come to bed.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, “Jesus, Luca, come on.”
You stepped back as his hands began reaching for the spice cabinet. He shot you an apologetic look before he started grabbing things off the shelf.
“I know, baby, it’s just that Carmy, ah, the bloke I’ve been telling you about-,” He rambled as you searched for any more patience left in your body, “-yeah, he made this, uh, this dish today and I’ve almost got it down—.”
His voice trailed off as he kept opening cabinets and drawers, pulling more spoons and bowls and testing your resilience all the while.
“Luca, please, it’s late—,” You started.
“Really, love, just 10 more minutes.”
“Luca—,” He kept moving, clearly not sensing your impending implosion.
“Baby, come on,” You tried one last time before you couldn’t keep your volume down anymore, “Luca!”
He instantly dropped the wooden spoon in his hand, turning his full attention to you. He never raised his voice at you, and you’d never yelled at him.
“Please, baby, listen to me,” You started softly, stroking his broad shoulders with a gentle touch, “You know how much I want this for you, and I love you so damn much for your dedication, but I need you to be here when you are here.”
Luca let out a shaky breath, his warm hands reaching up to cup your face tenderly. His slender fingers reached into your hair and pulled you up towards him, pressing his lips into yours in a slow, languid kiss.
He leaned back slightly, far enough to slide his right hand down to his chest, clutching it into a fist and circling his heart. I’m sorry.
You mirrored his motions, dropping your hand down to circle your own heart with a bit more fervor. I’m sorry, too.
You held each other’s gaze for a long moment until Luca closed his eyes and leaned his head into your shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist and pulled you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
Your own arms drifted around his just as tight. One hand was tangled in his messy curls while the other drew pictures absentmindedly onto his back.
“I just thought I could be the best, thought I was the best,” Luca spoke into your neck, his muscles relaxing as your hands danced over them, “And realizing I’m not, that I never can be, it’s just—.”
“A lot,” You finish for him, helping him not have to think.
“A lot,” He mirrors.
“Hey,” You gently pull his face up to meet your soft gaze, “You don’t have to be the best to be really damn good.”
The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly, almost in a smile, “I know that now. I think I just had to— I don’t know, make peace with that.”
You send him a knowing smile as his lips drift to meet yours again, a little deeper this time.
“Plus,” You begin, “If anyone is going to out-chef you, Chef, it has to be Carmy. He’s like, from another planet or something.”
Luca huffs out a laugh and your heart immediately feels lighter.
“Carm is really good,” Luca chuckles, “He’s got something special.”
“Just as special as you have, Lu.”
He kisses you like he’s trying to pour all of his love into you in just this moment. Your mind swirls as his lips leave yours, batting your eyes open to clear your head.
You placed a peck on his firm shoulder and step away to head back to bed. It’s only a few seconds of clanging until Luca is closing your bedroom door behind him.
“Dishes’ll be there tomorrow,” He mumbles as he climbs into bed, his weight practically collapsing into the plush surface.
You slid into place beside him, one leg tangled over his as his strong arms pull you into his chest. Luca’s warm hands sent a shiver up your spine.
“I should’ve just talked to you, my love. I’m sorry,” Luca stroked his thumb over your cheekbone.
“Heard, Chef,” You smirked but meant it just the same, “Can’t scare me off that easy.”
Luca smiled and tucked you into his chest, wanting to hold you as close as he could. His heart beat evened out as he felt your own, strong and steady, drawing him out of his anxiety.
You ran your fingertips of Luca’s toned back as he pressed gentle kisses into your cheek and neck. The two of you shared a comfortable, warm silence for a moment before a thought popped into Luca’s head.
“I thought I had to make my own peace,” He pulled away from you so he could see your face, “But I think you are my peace, love. You are always the answer.”
Your eyes prickled with tears, seeing the truth and adoration in Luca’s gaze. He’s saying all this while you’re trying to figure out how he thinks he’s the lucky one.
You wrack your brain for the right words, but all that comes out is, “I love you so fucking much, Lu.”
Luca stared down at you lovingly, planting needy kisses onto your lips.
“I love you just the same, my peace.”
————
It wasn’t more than a month before a delicate peace dove tattoo showed up on Luca’s forearm. Followed closely by a framed portrait of he and Carmy on the wall in your kitchen.
“Both sent me to war,” He teased when you questioned the timing, “But both brought me peace.”
#luca the bear#luca x reader#chef luca x reader#chef luca#the bear hulu#the bear imagine#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#kdogreads
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surprise, it's a Luca blurb! (SMUT 18+ ONLY)
Content warnings: smut below the cut!! (18+ ONLY), public fingering, exhibitionism, dirty talk, explicit language, slight degradation, slight dom!Luca
A/N: I'm at a little bit of a standstill rn with Are You In? but I wanted to give you guys something to tide you over until the next chapter is out! This is completely separate from that series, just something I thought of! I'm experimenting with dom/sub dynamics?? Let me know what you guys think! 😘
Summary: Luca fingers the reader in a movie theater. That's it. LMAO 💀
You can feel your heart beating in your ears, but that's nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling of Luca's hand between your thighs.
"Shh, love, do you want someone to hear you?"
His voice is right next to your ear, drowning out the sound of the movie playing in the theater. The two of you are near the back, thankfully, and you have the row to yourselves.
His thumb rubs firm circles against your clit, while your thighs threaten to cut off his circulation. He wouldn't have it any other way, though. He knows you're getting off on the thrill of it all.
As a baker, Luca uses his hands a lot. And it shows. You're almost embarrassed by how turned on you are, he's only been fingering you for a few minutes. But, the way his strong arm cradles you from behind to dip in between your thighs and fuck you with his fingers is really doing it for you. All you can see, hear, and feel is Luca. And that's the way you like it.
"Maybe I should make you clean off the seat when we're done. You're pussy's so wet I can almost hear it over the movie," he groans into your ear, the sound making you clench around the finger he's pumping inside of you. The way he chuckles makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you both know you love it.
"L-Luca, someone might hear you," you whine into his ear, spreading your legs as much as the seat (and your tight skirt) will allow. He's added a second finger now, scissoring both of them inside your wet entrance.
"Good, I want them to know who's stretching out this tight cunt," he replies, dipping his head down to suck on your neck. You swear someone has turned the AC off, his actions sending a warm flush over your body.
He's angling himself towards you, effectively shielding you from any prying eyes. His jacket is draped over your lap, for added protection. Despite his crude actions, the gesture warms your heart. Typical Luca.
"I think-, I think I'm gonna cum," you sigh out, lifting your hips to meet his fingers. Your confession only spurs him on further.
He uses his other hand to reach over and toy with your nipples through the thin top you're wearing. You bite your lip to stop the whine from slipping out, but it's no use.
Luckily, Luca brings a hand up to your mouth, silencing the moan that threatens to break the silence in the room. The action makes you clench his fingers even tighter.
"Oh, you like it when I shut you up?" He whispers into your ear, chuckling when you nod your head vigorously. You didn't think you could be more turned on than you already were, but the way he dominates you is pushing you towards your high.
"You're gonna cum in front of all these people, baby?"
You don't even fully register his question, just nodding in agreement, solely focused on the high you're chasing.
"Damn, I didn't know you were this desperate for it. Maybe I should've fucked you before we left the house."
That's all it takes for the coil to snap. You're grateful for his hand over your mouth, catching the moans that fall out. He continues to massage your clit throughout your high, the pleasure crashing over you in steady waves.
"Don't worry, I'll still fuck you when we get back to the house, too," he asserts, placing a kiss on the top of your head. Your thighs squeeze together out of reflex.
.................................................
Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed):
@nolita-fairytale @wakandamama @wakandama2 @blowmymbackout @douceurrrr @mercang @cryobabyy @superhoeva @kdoxkeic @live-love-be-unique @guccitearzz @axololly @little-feathered-shit @wordswithoppar @penny44224 @snomu11 @boo8008 @creativitybeware @shinebright2000 @megsiobhan @mattxxamryli @kdogreads
#luca x reader#chef luca x reader#luca x black!reader#luca smut#luca the bear#the bear x reader#the bear fx#the bear fanfic#the bear fanfiction#will poulter#will poulter smut#will poulter fanfic#will poulter imagine#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics
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sweet tooth | luca drabble
just thinking about luca w a partner who has a crazy sweet tooth (like i do) and you never asking for a sweet treat but mentioning it nonchalantly but still not expecting luca to make you something.
first of all, your nickname would probably be sweet tooth or smth similar, let’s be so real. it would start by luca calling you that affectionately, but then it catches on w friends and family and you’re just dubbed sweet tooth.
in general, if you saw some type of dessert on a commercial or a tiktok that had you going ‘oohhh’ luca would scrunch his brows and almost seem jealous. “they used meringue, they should’ve used icing sugar.” he’d scoff judgingly and just see it as a challenge. after he would deem it doable, he’d store the information in his brain and literally make it better at work the next day.
just say the word and he will make it. telling your friends on the phone that macaroons sound good? cool, he wants to practice his piping technique with the biscuits anyways.
a japanese fruit sando? awesome he can make the sweet bread so fast, and the cream is no big deal. in fact he can just whip it up for lunch.
want a hersheys bar? first, that chocolate is trash don’t ever mention it to a european, especially your european chef boyfriend. second, he’ll make you the best stack of milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, and cookies n’ cream bar you’ve ever had (the cookies n cream one is so good, and you’d always say that and it would piss him off). anything to get hershey’s out of your brain.
you see those viral crunchy chocolate and pistachio filled croissants in new york on your phone and groan abt them? he can research the recipe and workshop it for a day or two in the restaurant kitchen, find a cute take out box to present it to you with to give you that full experience you’d get from the real bakery—you just gotta wait. even if it’s a couple days later, it’ll be waiting for you on the table, or pulled out from behind luca’s back as he walks through the door.
to be more specific, maybe at midnight when he doesn’t have work the next day, you guys are up watching a movie or just having pillow talk. saying smth nonchalant abt your cravings like “cookies sound so good right now luca.. don’t they?” your cheek is smushed against his bicep (which you’d much rather eat) so your voice is all cute and mumbled making his heart race.
“mhm.” he’d say. he’s got a lazy smile n a deep chuckle, voice laden w sleep since you’re the night owl and he’s just staying up to spend time with you. “you wan’ me to make some right now? that what you’re saying?” he’s clearly amused, knowing that you don’t expect him to but teasing you nonetheless.
“nono, it’s too late. you’re not allowed to leave anyways.” you would mumble again, arms tightening around his own in a hug. humming happily, a kiss from the chef would land on your head and you kinda forget about the dessert you want but luca doesn’t because he’s a chef and his literal profession is making desserts so why wouldn’t he?? when you want something he can easily make?? like his love language is giving, especially if it’s baking something for someone he loves.
the next day you’d still be asleep and wake up to the smell of cookies. savory was your forte in the morning most times but who could say no to starting their day with a yummy sweet when it’s presented to them, right?
it would take you a second to realize that 1. luca wasn’t wrapped around you like usual, etching a frown into your face, and 2. luca had to be the one making cookies. and he made the best cookies. you’d waste no time in grinning and hopping up to drag yourself to the kitchen. even more of the smell would welcome you, transporting you into some kind of dreamland—and if you really were dreaming you’d be so pissed bc the cookies being pulled out of the oven by your blond messy haired boyfriend look so fucking good right now (aside from the aforementioned boyfriend who is just as, if not more scrumptious than the cookies with only his flannel pants on).
arms would wrap around his waist from behind and luca would laugh muttering “hot pan” but you don’t give a fuck because you want him and those cookies now. if anything your arms tighten and you rub at his stomach sweetly from behind, a sign of affection.
“you made me cookies!” the grin would be so evident in your voice and so infectious that luca beams as he transfers the said cookies onto a pretty dish.
“and who said they were for you?” the tease is obvious and earns an eye roll. you don’t fall for it and he doesn’t expect you to, but you gently nip at his shoulder nonetheless. a dramatic ‘ow!’ comes from the tall man, laced with laughter. you snicker evilly, standing on tip toes to rest your chin on the same shoulder (no matter your height you still gotta do tiptoes bc that man is tall).
soon enough he’d plate the perfect chocolate chip cookies with a dash of sea salt that you spotted, and turn around. it would be your turn to be wrapped in a hug by strong arms, even lifted up a little just to hear your laugh. luca also likes to hear how surprised you get that he can lift you, even though to him you’re weightless.
it wouldn’t be long until you’re begging for a cookie even if he sets you on the counter, stern look as he assures you they’re still cooling off. like hellooo?? who cares?? but he distracts you with soft kisses on your cheeks, leading down to your lips until he pulls away and leaves you wanting more. the mumble from him that, “the cookies are probably cool enough now” has you forgetting your desire for him and replacing it with the golden saucers just waiting for you to demolish them.
hands on his shoulder, you’d firmly push him to the side and hop off the counter. the roll of luca’s eyes would be affectionate and endeared, since you were this excited for his cooking. you were his best customer after all.
your feet would have a mind of their own, floating towards the cookies like a cartoon man levitating towards a pie, lured by the aroma. you start ravaging like a hungry creature. one turns into three as you face your boyfriend, moaning with closed eyes at almost every bite inbetween telling him about what you two did in your dream (he baked you brownies laced with a golden syrup in your dream so you accredit your subconscious to manifesting this).
he would just stand there with a grin, hands on the edge of the sink behind him while leaning on it. usually dreams would be so boring to talk about, but luca swore he could stand there for an eternity just watching you eat his creations and talk about any dream you wanted to share with him.
of course, those cookies would be gone in two days. and in place would be brownies drizzled in a golden syrup that luca took home from work. the surprise would earn him a watery eyed smile, and he’d just shrug and say he had extra time to kill on the evening shift.
#do y’all know the croissants i’m talking abt??#theyre in the pic at the top#i need them so bad theyre in nyc and dubai idk#always on my fyp i want them frrr#i need a baker bf#my sweet tooth is insane#also the brownies w golden syrup are inspired by ambrosia from percy jackson books lmao#i’ve always wanted those fr#chef luca#chef luca x reader#will poulter#the bear#the bear imagine#the bear imagines#luca x reader#the bear luca x reader#livvy’s drabbles#the bear drabbles#luca drabbles#carmy berzatto
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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
❧ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ⇁ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍 “𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘” 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒
❛ Copenhagen, Denmark. The home of a young Carmen, Luca, and Reader as they help each other navigate through a young adulthood of preservation, unresolved trauma, and unexpected love. ❜
❧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 ⇁ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎 "𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐄" 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
❛ Sexologist Francisco Morales has been given the green light to lead a scientific, seven-week study of the female orgasm and its effect on the body. You have agreed to be his test subject. ❜
❧ 𝐀𝐔: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 ⇁ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍 "𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘" 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊!𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
❛ The life of Bunny and her boyfriend Bear. ❜
⋆ hair
⋆ couch
⋆ gentleman
𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬/𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
𝐈: 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ⇁ crying | first kiss | ladder | nickname | first sight
𝐈𝐈: 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⇁ hot girl bunny | how long have they been together? | hand creams | carmen's hot gf | nervous!carmen | bunny and richie | carmen's tattoos | bunny's favorite spot | bunny's tattoos | birthaversary | favorite things | grizzly bear | why the tears? | nurse!carmen | come home pt. 1 | sick!bunny | easter eggs | sidewalk rule | punch | pretty boy
𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ⇁ coming soon!
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⋆ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧 "𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲" 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨
deep (+18)
v-lines (+18)
dance (+18)
more coming soon! <3
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto smut#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales smut#chef luca x reader#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#luca the bear#frankie morales#francisco morales#the bear#triple frontier
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NSFW Alphabet - Luca The Bear
summary: nsfw/sfw-ish, back on my will poulter tip, luca stans come get ya'll juice. like & comment to be tagged in future work. inbox is open!
A - Appetite
Luca has a bit of an insatiable appetite. Whether it’s for his passion for baking or for food in general, his desire is endless. Especially when it comes to you. A little bit gluttonous, even a little bit greedy you would say, pulling countless orgasms after orgasms from you truly never enough for this man. Luca’s appetite truly has no bounds
B - Body part(favorite body parts)
If someone had told you that a set of beefy, strong, broad shoulders could easily have you flooding in your panties would have had you laughing but now, whenever Luca is in your presence that’s where your eyes go first before your mind starts coming up with thoughts of having your legs hiked up and tossed over those same shoulders while he’s pounding you into the mattress
For Luca, it’s simple, your ass and thighs. gripping, squeezing, caressing, kneading, spanking, whatever his hands are always going to find a way near you.
C - Cream
Luca’s favorite cream is the one you leave right at the base of his cock when he fucks you just right. there’s nothing better to him tbh.
Another favorite of his is creampies. He loves the feeling of his cock swelling in your tight walls before stuffing you full of his cum, and pulling out just to watch his thick white cum leaking out of you before using his fingers to push it back in to keep you full of all of him.
D - Dining
The best way Luca gets any inspiration to create, he has to go and try new things, and he loves trying them with you. he rarely says no to trying new food spots that you found on tiktok, just don't be upset by his brutal honesty on the shittier places
E - Eggperience(get it? cause he's a chef)
Luca has some experience but he's not really the type to sleep around often, only 3 random hookups and 2 serious relationships so he has an idea of what he's doing in the bedroom but getting to learn your body and what turns you is the real reward for him.
F - Favorite Position
Doggy style or you riding him. His hands are constantly gripping and squeezing at your perfect body in any position really. The first time you rode him felt like an out-of-body experience, there were literal hearts in his eyes watching you bounce up and down on his cock with your tits in his face. Loud moans and whines leave your lips about how he's so fucking big and making you feel good.
Doggystyle is another one of his favorites since he can bend you over the nearest counter so easily and have you gushing in minutes. one of his hands wrapped around your neck while the other grips your ass, bringing you back to meet his powerful thrust that has your eyes rolling back and mouth drooling.
G - Goofy (Are they serious during sex?)
Luca can be pretty intense when it comes to intimacy but he can be a little bit mischievous if you've been acting like a brat tbh.
H - Hair (How well groomed are they?)
There's some hair just around the base of his cock but he's fairly well groomed for the most part. Luca doesn't really care whether you're fully shaved or trimmed.
I - Intimacy
Luca is actually pretty passionate during sex. Though his thrust is still powerful and with purpose in each roll of his hips. He'll need your body close, his face buried into your neck while he whispers absolute filth in your ear.
J - Jerk Off (Do they masturbate?)
Luca is a busy chef so he usually doesn't have time or is rarely in the mood to jerk off and once you two became a thing, jerking off is the further from his mind.
K - Kink
Praise kink. As mentioned before but hearing your breathless moans and whimpers about his big is and how good only he can make you feel, that he's the best? It sends his ego through the roof. He will also praise you or pet names, calling you his "good girl" "darling" or "doll"
Aftercare. It's not really a kink but it's something that he takes seriously. Luca knows that he can be rough so comfort and happiness are always his top priorities, getting you cleaned up, clothed in one of his shirts, and a late-night snack is usually part of the routine.
L - Location
His bedroom or yours, although he mostly prefers your bedroom while you actually prefer his kitchen counters.
M - Motivation (Turn Ons)
To say that you turn him on would be cheesy but you do easily turn him on. you acting like a brat or a sassy, “yes chef” gets him going. There was also one night you surprised him by wearing just his apron and nothing else. He thinks of that night often <3
N - No (Something he’d never do)
Sharing is not caring with this chef. So the idea of an open relationship or a threesome is a hard no for him. Luca doesn't want to share you and he doesn't want to be shared either.
O - Oral
Luca is a giver when it comes to oral and he loves it messy. I mentioned before that he can be a bit greedy, so he'll take his time when eating you out. Switching between flicking the tip of his tongue over your sensitive bud or sucking while he has you gushing around his fingers. Luca isn't stopping until your legs are shaking and you're left only screaming his name.
P - Pastries
Luca finds it cute when you make him something. There are only a few treats that can make his mouth water from just thinking about it and some of his favorites are made by you. He still dreams of the mont blanc chocolate pavlova you surprised him with. Eating any pastries that are made by you is the only time he's not shared with you.
You made it for him after all.
Q - Quickie (Is he into quickies?)
Totally into quickies. Luca often finds himself waking up way earlier than most but his craft does require a lot of fineness and time so he's usually up and out of bed by 3 in the morning so early morning quickies. He’s home later in the evening, tired and just exhausted from the day, a quickie before bed is not a want but a need.
R - Risk (Is he willing to try new things?)
If it doesn't involve sharing or causing you any actual harm, then he's willing to try something new once you beg him enough.
S - Smell
Luca's not a weirdo, but he has secretly sniffed you before maybe once or twice. Once when you stood in front of him in line waiting to order, chatting away about some imported Ecuadorian Chocolate you ordered when someone behind Luca bumps into him, causing him to stumble forward just a bit but successfully stopped himself but he was so close to you now, close enough that he caught a whiff of coconut and almonds. It was on his mind for the rest of the day, so much so that he got inspired to make dessert.
T = Taste
I've mentioned before but Luca can be a bit gluttonous and is rarely satisficed with one round of tasting your sweet wetness all over his tongue. Your taste alone inspired three dishes from the chef!
U = Unfair (How much they tease)
A menace actually. He's cool as a cucumber most of the time because he's already thinking ahead. Some days he'll tease you for a bit just to set the mood but there have been days where he would tease you all day, offering you cheeky remarks and lopsided smirks at you trying to get him to fuck you after teasing you all day.
V - Volume
He isn't the loudest per se but he does let out groans and grunts. Whispering dirty things in your ear about how gorgeous you look taking his cock, how good your tight walls feel, and how he wants - needs to hear you make those pretty sounds over and over again louder.
W - Wild Card (Random headcanon)
Luca is a romantic. It's hard to tell and took you a little by surprise but it's there! It's the little things that he does and the thoughtless effort he puts into ensuring that you are happy.
X - X-ray (How big is he?)
Luca is around 7 inches hard and thick god bless. He gives me the vibe that it's not that big of a deal to him what his size is but finds it amusing that you practically drool over it.
Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Luca's sex drive is above average but he has more self-control to never push anything. Plus, he's often too busy to really think about the last time he got laid.
Z - Zzzz (How quickly are they asleep afterward?)
It takes him a while to fall asleep afterward so he's always up to cuddle and talk but he's mostly to head to the kitchen for a snack before getting some sleep.
#luca x black reader#luca the bear#the bear season 2#the bear#the bear fanfiction#will poulter#will poulter x black reader#the bear fx#luca headcanon#will poulter x reader#chef luca#chef Luca x black reader#chef Luca x reader#chef Luca the bear
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worlds best sous
pairing : chef luca x reader
prompt : gingerbread houses
𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲
when you asked your pastry chef boyfriend to make gingerbread houses with you, you should have expected that he would find some way to make it fancy.
the two of you went to the grocery store to buy some supplied, but where you went to the pre-packaged baked goods, luca went straight for the ingredients.
you should've known.
but you were not at all complaining as you walked down the aisles with luca's hand in yours and the basket in the other so he could pick the things he wanted off the shelf.
you ended up walking home with a grocery bag full of ingredients ready to make your own gingerbread for gingerbread houses.
when you arrived back home, you went to the bedroom to change into something cozy while luca unpacked the groceries, and the two of you switched roles when he went to change and you made tea for both of you to set the mood a little bit.
when he emerged clad in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt you sat yourself at the kitchen counter to assist in whatever way he needed.
whenever the two of you baked together, you would sit opposite him at the counter and he would talk you through the entire process while giving you tasks to do that weren't detrimental to the bake.
today he gave you the scales and the ingredients to measure them out before he mixed them and then he pulled you around to his side to cut out the shapes you both needed for the structure of the gingerbread house.
this was where you shone.
you cut out equal squares for the base with small indents to slot the pieces together easily and support the structure.
once the dough was cut, you assisted luca in setting them onto the baking trays and sliding them into the oven.
while the biscuits baked, you began mixing icing and opening up packs of sweets and chocolates to decorate.
while you were mixing the icing, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and felt a kiss pressed onto your neck.
instead of saying anything, you put down what you were doing and wrapped your arms around his, turning your head to look up at him so you were able to press a kiss onto his temple.
" you are the best sous chef i've ever had " he said quietly, causing a smile to spread out across your lips.
" very high praise. i'm honoured " you replied with a soft laugh, capturing his lips in a kiss before the oven timer broke you both out of it.
----------
@mmoodd-jobutupaki
#༊*·˚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐚#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜#chef luca x reader#chef luca the bear#luca the bear#luca 2021#luca x reader#chef luca smut#chef luca#will poulter imagine#will poulter fanfiction#will poulter x reader#will poulter avatars#will poulter smut#will poulter imagines#the bear spoilers#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear fic#the bear meta#the bear fanfiction#sydney adamu#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#tmr gally
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My Hero
Summary: Luca helps Reader feel better after her date at his restaurant goes to shit.
Pairing: Luca/F!Plus Size!Reader, pre-relationship
Notes: I've been pondering this story for several weeks, and now I'm finally getting it down on paper.
Warnings: Date gone wrong, canon-typical language, self-esteem issues, mention of dirty thoughts, food and dessert descriptions, tiny bit of food kink?, past fat-shaming, still fluffy with a happy ending (mention of future relationship)
Tags: @pettyprocrastination @cinewhore @nolita-fairytale @phoenixhalliwell @grogusmum
"Chef, we have a problem at Table 5."
Luca sighs when Petra tells him this - she's his most trusted waitress, and she can usually handle anything on the floor. "What kind of problem?" he asks.
"The woman's date snuck out on her, and he stuck her with the check." Petra points out into the restaurant space, and Luca sees the patron in question. She's plump and pretty, but the way she's hunched over her table, Luca can tell how upset she is.
"Was the guy acting weird?"
Petra shrugs. "I mean, he was a little under-dressed, and he'd been twitchy. I guess he was looking for his opportunity to dash - he mentioned needing the bathroom, then he disappeared. That said, the lady has been lovely; I just hope this doesn't sour her on this place for good."
"Okay..." Luca ponders a minute, and then he takes his apron off. Calling to his staff, he says, "Chefs, I'll be right back, keep it moving!"
"Yes chef!" "Heard, chef!" Luca smiles to himself; he's always known his team is dependable.
--
When Petra comes back to check on you, she's not alone - she's accompanied by a striking man with dark blond hair and an attractive lift to his eyebrows.
"Petra, is this the manager?" you ask. "I'm good for the check, I wasn't trying to angle for a discount."
Petra shakes her head. "No ma'am - this is Chef Luca, our head of pastries. He just wanted to chat with you and see how you were doing." She pats your shoulder and takes her leave.
"May I sit?" Luca asks.
"Sure," you say. FUCK, he's cute - up close, you can tell that his nose and jaw could cut glass.
He sits across from you, and his expression is sympathetic. "Petra told me the basics - are you ok?"
"Well, like I said, I'm good for the check - but mostly, I feel stupid," you admit. "All the warning signs were there that this was a set-up."
"Oh?"
"Yeah - I'd known Oliver for five years, and he'd never gone out with anyone who....who's built like me - and then suddenly he says, "Oh, let's go to this great place I heard about, but can you put the reservation under your name?" We get here and Petra asks us about splitting the check - he says there's no need, it'll be just one check, and when I thank him, he says, "No, thank you for coming out." "
You pause, and then you groan in annoyance. "Shit, I bet he heard about me getting my inheritance from my aunt; that's why he knew I could afford this place."
Luca winces - he's heard of some cowardly shit in his time, but this is ridiculous. "That's the worst; I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, but thank you," you say. "Petra was great and it's sweet of you to check in." You pull out your purse. "I'll pay up and be on my way."
"Actually, do you have to go just yet?" Luca asks. "If you're not in a hurry, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."
Your mind briefly goes to a dirty place, but thankfully it doesn't show on your face. You put your purse back down and look at him questioningly. "What kind of favor?"
"I have a new dessert I'm working on, but I don't think it's quite right yet. Want to try a few samples and tell me what you think?"
That's not what you were expecting, but you won't argue with a handsome man presenting you with handmade delicacies either. You nod, and Luca signals Petra to the kitchen to get a tray together.
Petra returns with a plate full of different variations on the same dessert, along with a glass of sparkling water for a palate cleanser. Your eyes go wide - there must be a dozen different versions of this miniature treat in front of you. Each piece is unique, either by stacking order or by ingredient proportions.
"You don't mind me eating in front of you?" you ask Luca. Unfortunately, you've had it happen once where someone made oinking noises while you ate, and you've never quite lived it down.
"I wouldn't be in this business if I did," he reassures you.
"Ok, that's fair." Looking down at your platter, you decide to start from the left top corner and work your way down each column. It's hard not to notice Luca's eyes on you as you go through, but you figure he's just gauging your reactions.
It's all absolutely delicious, but there are samples that particularly stand out. When you're done, you have your answer. "Keeping in mind that I am the opposite of a professional at this sort of thing," you say, "I think if you took the stacking order of the third one - plum then chocolate then cookie - but then used the proportions of the seventh one where it's heavier on the chocolate than the other ingredients ... I think you'd have a winner."
Luca breaks out into a smile that makes your heart flutter. "I can see that," he agrees. "I'll test a full size version - and maybe you'd like to come back and try it tomorrow?"
"...Chef, are you asking for a food taster or for something else?" After the stunt Oliver pulled on you, you don't want any confusion.
"Well, let me put it this way," Luca says, helping you to your feet and hooking your purse over your shoulder. "If you were to come back tomorrow...there would be dinner before the new dessert premieres - if you're up for that?" He's still holding onto the strap of your bag, and it means you're looking right in his eyes.
"I am," you tell him with a smile. "And even if there weren't dinner, I'd still owe you for saving my night, so...yes. I'll be back tomorrow."
--
Years later, you and Luca still can't agree which of those nights actually counts as your first date. If someone were to ask Luca, he says it was the first night when you tried his desserts. If that same person were to ask you, you would say the dinner the next night was the change because that's when you had your first kiss.
Petra, who's no stranger to these conversations after all these years, keeps her opinions to herself - but in her mind, you're both off the mark. From what she could tell, Luca was yours as soon as he'd looked at you.
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give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca
pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader
word count: 6.6k
warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie)
notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3
✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨
<<< read part 1 here >>>
06.13 PM
Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.
The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”
“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.
“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”
“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”
Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.
“Smells yummy.”
“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.
No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.
“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”
“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.
“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”
“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”
“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”
“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.
“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.
“Why not?”
“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”
Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes.
“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”
“He should come home, then.”
It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.
The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.
So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”
When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.
“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”
Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.
Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.
He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.
And little does he know, so do you.
“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”
It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.
Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.
“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.
But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.
“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.
And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.
***
08:37 PM
If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.
But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.
“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”
“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”
“Uh… what do you got?”
“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”
His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”
“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly.
Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?
“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.
He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.
Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”
You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.
“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.
“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”
You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”
“‘The Bear Who Did.’”
“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”
The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.
“Me too.”
“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”
He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”
At home, the words echo in your head.
With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.
“So, uh… how have you been?”
“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”
“And do you? Live a little?”
“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.
Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hm.”
You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”
He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”
“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.
“Oh come on…”
“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”
His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”
Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.
Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you.
This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.
“I’ve been on dates here and there…”
Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”
He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.
“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”
“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass. “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”
“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.
“Because I do miss you.”
Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”
“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”
Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”
He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”
“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.
“No. That’s not it.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.
After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”
It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”
“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”
“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”
Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”
“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”
The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”
Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”
You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”
“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”
You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”
“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.
The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.
“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic.
“What was that?”
“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.
The coast is clear.
You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.
“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”
“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.
“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.
Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.
“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it.
His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.
You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.
There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out.
“It’s in the—”
Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.
He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.
“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.
He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”
It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.
And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?
Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.
“Does it still hurt?”
You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.
His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—
“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”
The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.
Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.
Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.
You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…
You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.
“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.
Or worse, a mistake.
You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.
It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”
He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”
Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.
God.
You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.
Christmas Eve, two years ago.
Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.
And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.
So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.
But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost.
“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.
“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.
“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.
“You sure?”
No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.
So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to.
“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…
“Luca, I— now.”
He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”
“What, why?”
“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.
Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”
“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”
His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.
Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.
Down your torso.
Between your nether lips.
You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”
“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.
His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”
The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?
Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”
“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.
“Luca…”
“Wait, just let me—”
So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,
“Please.”
The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.
It’s just you and him and this need.
And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…
“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.
You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—
“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”
You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.
Love.
As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…
“Luca…” you gasp sharply.
He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”
You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay.
And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…
You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.
Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.
He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”
“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”
“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?
“I want you to.”
“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”
You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”
“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you.
Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.
There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.
“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.
Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.
***
9:56 PM
“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment.
“It was.”
“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”
“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.
“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?
Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”
You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.
The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”
“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.
“No, I just… I wanna know.”
“You don’t really wanna know.”
“Is it a lot?”
“I mean…”
“How many?”
You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”
He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”
“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”
“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”
“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”
“What?”
“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”
Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”
“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”
“And you see me in them?”
“Every single one.”
“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.
And you tried very hard.
“I’m sorry.”
He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.
The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.
Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.
He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.
Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.
You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.
And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,
“Do you still love me?”
You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”
“Do you want us to try again?”
“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”
“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.
“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.
“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.
Slow and steady and certain.
The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”
“Then let me come home. Please?”
“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”
His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.
“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.
“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”
That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.
“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”
You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”
“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”
“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.
You hope he will.
#will poulter#chef luca#luca the bear#the bear fx#chef luca x reader#luca x reader#chef luca x ex-wife!reader#chef luca fic#chef luca smut#will poulter fic#will poulter smut#ava writes
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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one
summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.
warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.
word count: 2500
a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.
masterlist | part two
He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant.
It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest.
The best things are inspired.
Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that.
A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant.
He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article.
When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country.
But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for.
Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls.
The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired.
He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.
It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out.
“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles.
“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish.
It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once.
Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite.
As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment.
The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce.
The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week.
-------------------------------
You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do.
“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen.
“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.
“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards.
“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.
“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell.
You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.
“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.
“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll.
“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!”
“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”
“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.
As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen.
But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.
Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home.
You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff.
He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.
The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring.
You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular.
“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”
“Hi, I’m Luca.”
You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand.
Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily.
“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you.
“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin.
“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.
You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him.
He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).
“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish.
Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef.
It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish.
“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him.
He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:
“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.”
Oh.
You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far.
"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole.
He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.
Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.
He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.
"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”
“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen.
-------------------------------
“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting.
As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service.
Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant.
“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look.
“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”
One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed.
You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding.
“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”
“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly.
“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently.
To the Chef, the front of the card reads.
“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother.
He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you.
As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.
Chef,
Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it.
Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302
While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?
You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it.
Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.
“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”
“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”
“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.
“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look.
“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands.
“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh.
“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down.
“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed.
“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.
Oh shit, is right.
#chef luca#will poulter#luca the bear#the bear season 2#the bear headcanon#luca x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#chef luca x reader#pastry chef luca#burn your life down
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Sweets
MINORS DNI
A/N: I know its been.. an unspecified amount of time but I can explain! (I can't actually) Have this and an apology (It's gonna happen again) See you next time. Muchos besos!
Description: Unnamed Fem!Reader and Luca have history. One-sided but still history.
Warning: Smut, Fluff, Confession, Vaginal penetration (ooh spoicy), breeding (unintentionally), Vaginal fingering, Wirty dords and phrases, and this man Luca himself (he is a little too fine in this one, makes me feral)
“You guys are going to Copenhagen.” Sydney said as she looked at the both of them while leaning against the counter that was just put into the kitchen. There was chaos around them, walls being put up and others being knocked down. The Bear was set to open and it seemed like one thing right after the other decided to go wrong.
“What’s in Copenhagen?” She stepped forward, standing next to Marcus. Her braids pulled back out of her face as she put her hands in her jacket pocket.
“Uh… I don’t know. An old friend of Carmy.” Her heart raced as she thought of the only other person that he would consider a friend that also lived in a different country.
“Can I decline?” She asked quickly, both Sydney and Marcus looking at her.
“What?”
“Why?” Marcus and Sydney spoke in unison.
“I just… don’t think I should go.” She looked between them.
“Why? What do you have going on that you can’t go?”
“My cat…”
“I’ll take care of him.” Sydney said quickly, dispelling the only excuse she had.
“You don’t have a reason not to go.” Marcus said as he crossed his arms. It was true, there really wasn’t a reason not to go. Aside from being in the same kitchen as Luca. She looked at the both of them before letting out a heavy sigh.
“You can stay at my apartment to take care of him.”
“You’re going?” Sydney questioned excitedly.
“Yeah.”
Upon their arrival in Copenhagen, they took in as much of the city as they could. The both of them, making sure to take a bunch of pictures and stopping at different bakeries to look at their displays on the way to their new temporary home. It was a first for both of them when they got onto the boat, her room towards the front while Marcus got to sleep in the level above the kitchen area. “We’ve gotta leave water out.” He said from his spot in front of the table. Marcus silently reread the note in his hand as she approached him to look over at the paper.
“For who?”
“A cat or something.” He shrugged, the pair looking back at the empty water bowl on the floor.
“Okay.” She patted his shoulder. “You got it.” The pair laughed before separating to get settled for the night.
The next day they woke up before daybreak, both alarms blaring and making sure they actually got up. She found herself already distracted while getting ready for their first day. She wondered what he looked like now. Whether he looked any different. “Of course he probably does.” She grumbled to herself with a mouth full of toothpaste. She was broken from her thoughts when there was a rapid knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, we’re gonna be late if you take long.”
“My bad!” She finished up quickly then finished getting dressed.
The pair set off to the restaurant, walking in silence for a moment before Marcus spoke up. “Man..” He began. “I’m excited.” He looked ahead, his hands in the pockets of his parka. “Did you ever think that you’d be here?”
“Not really.” She responded, her hands in her pockets as well. “I thought I’d be in my own bakery by now to be fair.”
“Yeah?” He smiled. “Maybe once Carmy gets his shit together, you can get started.”
“If Carmy got his shit together.” The pair laughed.
The walk was filled with conversation and laughter but at the back of her mind, she was still wondering about Luca. The closer they got the more her heart pounded, her hands becoming a little clammy. She stopped walking when they came to the employee entrance of the Restaurant, her eyes on the door handle. Marcus stopped next to her, looking between her and the door. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.. um.. you head in first, I’m gonna call Sydney to check on Butters.” She mumbled out a lie as she pulled her phone out.
“You’re a bad liar.. but okay.” He nodded before entering first.
She needed to compose herself. It had been a long time and she had thoroughly convinced herself she was fine. That she was over it. “He might not be in today.. he might not even remember you and it’ll be fine.” She began to pace to help with calming her nerves but it didn’t work. Talking to herself didn’t work. “It’s been years. You’re not a child.” She sighed and looked at the door handle again, still unable to bring herself to enter.
“If you’re not goin’ in, mind if I get by?” She froze, looking back at him as if she had been caught stealing. “Oh..” His shocked expression told him that Carmy didn’t tell him about her arrival. And that he recognized her. “Are you here to learn?”
“Yeah.. I came with Marcus.” She cleared her throat. “Well not with Marcus but I traveled here with him.” She stepped away from the door so he could go in.
“It’s good to see you.” He pulled the door open for her, grinning at her. “Comin’ in?” She nodded before she stepped inside first, mumbling a thank you before heading straight to the back to get changed.
Once she finished, she went to join them, standing in the background and keeping her head down as she listened to Luca’s instructions. He had her working on whipping cream. A feat that she had tried to concur years ago but gave up on. She had deemed her arch-nemesis. Luca placed a chilled bowl, a carton of heavy whipping cream, sugar, and a whisk at her station. He stood beside her as he began to explain what she needed to do as if she didn’t already know. She mumbled a ‘Yes Chef’ to him before she began.
She began slowly, her eyes on the liquid in the bowl she had begun to whisk together. She remembered the first time she worked with Luca. His attitude towards his craft and others was a stark difference in comparison to each other. He had been arrogant and cocky when they worked together but no matter how rude he’d gotten, she continued to be nice. She wasn’t sure when the feelings for him started.
“Hey. What are you doing?” Luca questioned as he looked at her while she stood at his station.
“Chopping.” She responded in her usual happy tone. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Do I look like I need your help?” He stepped forward, his face turning red with annoyance and frustration. “Put the knife down and go away.”
“You don’t have to be mean about it.” She furrowed her brows.
“Whateva’.” He rolled his eyes. “Just find something else to do.”
“Fine.” She scoffed. She began to work on her own tasks, humming softly. She winced in pain and dropped her knife on the floor, tears welling up in her eyes at the sting from her finger. “Shit..” She walked towards the back, Luca watching her carefully before he went to follow her.
“Nearly chopped your finger off?”
“Yeah.” She answered honestly. “I got distracted…” She bit the back of her other hand as she ran water over it. “It’s so stupid.”
“Here.” He reached for her injured hand and looked at the cut. “No stitches. Which is good. Let me grab the first aid kit.” He walked away, leaving her to her thoughts. Once he came back, he had the red box in his hand and began to clean her cut properly before gently placing a bandage and a cover over it. “Be careful next time. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him and smiled, Luca staring at her for a moment before letting her hand go and returning to what he was previously doing.
In the time following that, she found herself trying to talk to him more. She would continue to smile at him and greet him, secretly doing prep for him after she finished her so that he would have somewhat of an easy day. At first, Luca wasn’t receptive to her enthusiasm but slowly warmed up to her. Her random questions or statements added to her charm. The way she would continuously hum throughout the day or scurry off the few times he caught her doing his prep. She grew on him and when he had to leave, it was like he was losing the best friend he cherished with his entire being.
“You overdid it.” Luca pointed out as he looked over her shoulder and yanked her from her thoughts. “Try again.”
Her apron was stained and the cream had become lumpy. She stared at it, her hands on her hips as her frustrations grew. “Can I just fix this batch?” She looked at him. “Or turn it into butter?”
“You could... but this is the third time you’ve tried to fix it.” His voice was stern but she knew he wasn’t upset. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing, her thoughts seemingly consuming her. “You’re out of heavy cream and you’ve made way more than we need.”
“What?” She looked down at the bowl. “Shit.”
“Do you know where you went wrong?” He questioned, seemingly knowing what was going on with her.
“I got distracted..” She sighed.
“Start over.” He made a move to walk away but her words made him pause.
“Can I move on to something else?” She asked before he could fully walk off. “You know my hatred for whipped cream.”
“No.” He crossed his tattooed arms, his biceps more defined as he did. “There’s more cream in the walk in.” He turned and walked away from her, leaving her to her own thoughts. She let her head hang before going towards the walk in.
She walked into the walk-in freezer, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked for all the items she needed. The door opened and Luca walked in, easily grabbing everything he needed and pausing when he realized how confused she looked. “What do you need?”
“Cream.” She looked around again before whipping around to face him and nearly colliding with his chest. She swallowed hard before pursing her lips and looking up at him as he reached to grab the cream from the top shelf. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He responded. “Cleaning the walk-in always seems to confuse someone around here. It’s about time it was you.” He smirked before walking out. She shivered, the chill combating against her heating body.
“Get it together…” She exhaled and walked out.
The day had gone by a little too quickly and she was still standing at her station trying to get the whipped cream right. “Hey, do you want me to wait for you?” Marcus asked, his bag on his back as he walked towards her.
“No. It’s fine. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get this.” She smiled gently. “You go ahead and get some rest.”
“Alright. If you’re sure.” He held his fist up, the duo fist bumping to confirm that it was fine for him to head out on his own.
She focused on whipping the cream, her eyes down and her head seemingly trying her hardest to empty as her hands moved more delicately once it was at the consistency she wanted. She stepped back and sighed, putting her hands on her hips and taking in the mess she now needed to clean up. “Lucky for you, we had back up to go through.” Luca said, seemingly just appearing behind her again. She jumped, quickly turning to face him.
“Sorry.” She looked down.
“No one’s gonna take your head off.” He walked towards her, looking over the mess. “You’ve got it and that’s all that counts.” He crossed his arms, an action that began to find enticing to look at. The muscles of his biceps and forearms were more prominent, his tattoos grabbing her attention as well as the veins that seemed to pop out. Her eyes followed them before she forced herself to look into his eyes. She swallowed the lump that had decided to settle in her throat as she wondered if he caught her staring so openly. “How’ve things been?” It was an out of the blue question. But he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t seen nor spoke to her in years, same with Carmy.
She turned back around, beginning to clean up. “Oh.. you know.. it’s the usual with Carmy. He’s being a bit ambitious as always.”
“I don’t mean with Carmy.” He spoke low, almost upset that that was what she assumed he meant. She turned around with some of the now empty dirty bowls. “I meant with you.” He clarified as they stared at each other in silence before she spoke again.
“Uh.. well nothing really changed since last we saw each other.” She responded. “I’ve got a cat now. He’s pretty sweet and super cuddly.”
“Hm.” He nodded, leaning against the counter across from her. “So.. no bakery then?” She smiled and shook her head, putting the bowl down.
“The bakery wasn’t in my plans for a long time now.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t really think it was worth it anymore.”
“It would have been.” He reassured her. “Your whipped cream would have been for shit either way but you can work around that.” They both laughed in unison, standing in a comfortable silence afterwards. “But I’m sure with you running it, Sweets Bakery would have been the talk of the year.”
“I can’t believe you remember the name.”
“How could I forget?” He questioned her.
“It’s such a stupid name.” She mumbled.
“I would say that. I think the name made sense.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.. from what I remember, you were always sweet.” Luca rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at her.
“What?” She looked at him in confusion, her brows furrowing. His chuckle sounded like a low rumble as he shook his head.
“You were always sweet.” He repeated in the same octave. “Making sure everything was at my station, double cleaning duty, taking the blame for everything even if you didn’t do it.” He let out a sigh. “I thought you were stupid for it but honestly I grew fond of it. It was cute seein’ your face light up when I finished somethin’ even though you’ve seen it a million times.” He crossed his arms as he looked at her, his head leaning to side slightly as if reliving a memory he had. “I’m sorry I left like that. I know things were a lot easier because of the flow. But when I got the offer, I had to take it.”
“I wasn’t upset because of the offer you got.” She sighed, her eyes down. “And you don’t have to apologize for that. You don’t owe me anything.” She finally looked at him, smiling gently but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was stupid. I- you..” She found it difficult forming a sentence. “God it’s so stupid.” She stood up straight as she shook her head. The feelings she had before hadn’t died fully it seems. Seeing him again had started a metaphorical fire that made her feel like she was stepping back into the pass. “I.. enjoyed working with you.” She began, taking him by surprise. “But it was difficult and I couldn’t focus because of you. Most of my major fuck ups was because I was too busy thinking about you. I couldn’t think around you and all I could smell was your stupid cologne and see your hands?” She sighed, wanting to scream in frustration. His eyes stared at her with an undetermined intent. She felt as if she were going to lose her mind the longer she was around him. Those feelings she had fought so hard to forget building more and more the longer she was alone with him. “I hate you.” She sighed. “No. That’s a lie. I’m crazy about you. It’s frustrating. It’s…” She watched as he stood, closing the short distance between them. “Reject me.” She stepped back, bumping into the metal table she had yet to clean. “Reject me so I can take my heart ache and leave.”
Luca’s calloused hand moved to cup the side of her head, its warmth radiating against the area behind her ear. “Reject me Luca.” She took in a breath and she held up, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please Luca…”
“I can’t reject you.” He mumbled as he leaned in, swallowing thickly. “I’d be a fuckin’ idiot if I did.” As if a net keeping all of her ability to resist was cut open, she melted against him. One of her hands rested against his toned bicep as the other held the wrist of the hand that was holding her head. He pulled her flush against him, making her head swim. Their kiss grew heavier, their lips dancing against one another but he ultimately had taken the lead.
She looked down as she tried to catch her breath, Luca’s breath fanning forehead as his thumb gently rubbed against the skin behind her ear. She finally looked up at him, hoping that he couldn’t hear the way her heart thundered against her ribs. “I’ve dreamt of doing that for a while.” She mumbled, a smile forming on both of their lips.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He huffed, leaning in to feel her plump lips against his again. “So soft..” He kissed her again. “So sweet.” His large hand moved towards her lower back, causing her to shiver against his touch. She pressed her face into his chest as she involuntarily arched against him. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” She responds, looking at him. “Don’t stop.”
“Fuck..” He sighed. “And you say I’m the frustrating one?”
“Luca?”
“Hm?”
“Can we go.. back to your place? I have to share a boat with Marcus and it would be really awkward if you walked in with me.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, his breaths growing heavier. “Because if you come back to my place, I won’t wanna leave in the mornin’.” She nodded a little too quickly, a smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”
Luca’s apartment wasn’t too far from the Restaurant. It was larger than she expected, the decor minimalistic and neutral. Though the sun had already set, the view outside had still been beautiful. He tossed his keys on the island as they passed the kitchen, his eyes still on her as she admired his home. She looked back at him, noticing the darkening look in his eyes as he slowly stalked towards her. She turned to face him fully as she stepped back with a smirk forming on his lips. “Are you still sure about this?” He asked as he pulled his hoodie off.
“Yes.” She said softly as she returned his smile.
“One more step and you’ll be in the bedroom.” He pointed out as he stopped walking.
“Oh..” She looked back before meeting his gaze again. “I knew that.” She kept her smile as she took another step back, fully entering the bedroom. Luca felt himself slowly losing his will power as he stared at her. “What’s that look for?” She asked almost innocently.
As if a switch was flipped, Luca pulled his hoodie off with his shirt following suit. His shoes had already been off and at the door with hers. He easily scooped her up and walked her over to the bed. “Maybe you’re not all that sweet.” He grumbled as he looked up at her. He placed her on his bed and sat back on his feet to admire the woman on his bed. “Definitely not all sweet.” He moved to hover over her with a small smile forming on his face.
“What?” She asks curiously.
“You’re breathtakin’.” He leaned forward, kissing her softly. He moved his hands to hold her face, the gentleness slowly intensifying.
When he wasn’t kissing her, he watched her every move. The way her hands slowly removed her shirt and revealed more of her skin to him. She looked embarrassed. Adorable. He thought to himself as he moved in to leave open mouthed kisses on the exposed parts of her body. They were hot but the chill of the air that followed left goosebumps all over.
Her hands found their way into his golden strands when his intense kisses led to where she had created the most heat. She still had her underwear on but the dampened material didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Luca..” She breathed. It came out as a small whine as if pleading for him to do more.
“Yes, sweetness?” He questioned as his breath gently cooled her underwear with each word.
“Don’t.. tease.” She pushed her hips upwards, watching as his eyes darkened. “Please..”
“Say it.” He demanded softly. “What do you want?”
“You. I want you.” She pouted.
“You want me?” He asked as he pressed more open mouth kisses against her heat. “What do you want me to do to you?” His eyes were locked with hers, relishing in her reaction.
“Take them off..” She furrowed her brows in anticipation as his hands moved towards the band of her underwear, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the barrier keeping him from touching her fully as he continued giving her needy cunt sloppy kisses. His tongue licked a strip against her with enough pressure that it sent a jolt through her entire being.
“I don’t think I want to take them off just yet.” He grumbled. One of his hands moved to rest on her pubis and his thumb rubbing lazy circles around her clit while the fingers on his other hand continued to tease her waistband. “Wanna savor the moment.” He mumbled before leaning in to kiss and lick her against her.
Her frustrated moans and whimpers filled the room as he continued to tease and pleasure her through her underwear. Her hand gripped and tugged at his hair, her mind emptying with every minute that passed and her need for physical contact growing at a steady rapid pace.
He enjoyed watching her squirm and writhe though he hadn’t touched her directly. Her underwear, now soaked in her essence and his saliva had become a hindrance to his enjoyment. And when he began to pull the ruined material down, she was all too eager to lift her hips. “Eager bunny.” He chuckled, before returning between her legs. He didn’t waste time tasting her, finally coming to the end of his torture. He let out a low growl as he lapped up her juices greedily. His eyes had been closed, giving her the chance to try and ground herself but when she lifted her head to watch him those captivating eyes had ensnared her again. He moved his hand up her body, slow and with purpose. Her breathing grew heavier as she couldn’t help but watch as his tattooed arms and hands moved. His hands carefully squeezing and kneading her breasts as if she were the mound of dough he had been touching earlier in the day. He pulled her bra down and toyed with them, pinching and tugging on her nipples before rolling them between his fingers. Luca groaned as he enjoyed the way she grew wetter. He had thought about what she would be like in bed. About whether she tasted as good as she looked and he was happy he got the chance. He came to the conclusion that if she’d allowed it, he’d eat her out from sunrise to sunset. But in this very moment, he needed to feel her around his cock more than ever.
Luca pushed himself up, licking his lips as he looked down at the mess he had created between her legs. He pressed the pad of his fingers against her dripping slit, he gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting it out on his index and middle digits. It wasn’t as if she needed it, but fuck was it a sight when he did it. He pressed his fingers deeper and smirked as her walls fluttered around him before fully clenching. “You like the way that feels?”
“Y-yes..” She stopped herself from grabbing his wrist, from touching him in any way even though he hadn’t told her she wasn’t allowed to. He watched the way her thighs shook as she brought her legs up to try and close. “L-Luca.. ah..” He moved closer, gently pushing one of her legs so she could open up for him. She had already been lost in pleasure before and now she found herself slipping back into it. She opened her legs wider as she felt her orgasm slowly building, wanting to chase that high. “I’m gonna..”
“Go ahead, sweetness.” He moved his free hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as he helped her along.
“I-I’m about to..” Her body tensed as the coil tightened in the pit of her stomach. She looked at him as if she were pleading for him to allow her to climax even though he already gave her the go ahead.
“Atta girl.” He leaned towards her, kissing her and swallowing her moans as she gushed around his thick digits. “Cum for me.” Luca hummed as she tightened and fluttered. He positioned himself between her legs, wiping the cum on his fingers against the tip of his cock. “Can I?” He asked, the head of his thick cock resting against her entrance. She leaned up on her elbows the best she could, nodding. “Say it for me.” He held the back of her head as he looked into her eyes again. He could get lost in them so easily, would do anything she requested if she looked him in the eyes. He moved closer.
“Please put it in.” She said softly. “I want to feel you inside.” She gasped when he pushed into her, the initial stretch incomparable to his fingers.
He was gentle with her, working his way inside before he bottomed out. He pulled himself out and silently shook his head before pushing back in. “Fuck~” Luca bit his bottom lip as he pushed deeper before pulling out again. “Why do you feel this good?” His question was rhetorical but she still shrugged in response and earned a chuckle. “And you’re cute.” Luca set a steady deep pace as he tried to keep himself from getting lost in her. His head spun as his need grew, making it a difficult feat. She moaned beneath him, her hands gripping the duvet. He grabbed the backs of her knees and closed her legs, sighing at the change in feeling. He placed her ankles on his shoulder, kissing the side of her calf as his pace changed. He bit his bottom lip as he watched the way her tits bounced with each of his thrusts. He cupped her cheek then pressed his thumb against her soft lips. She sucked on it, gently biting it as she stared up at him. Fuck.. He felt as if he could cum if he continued to stare at the beautiful woman beneath him. Her walls fluttered around him when he changed his angle. “Luca..” She drew out a needy whine. “There..” She gasped when he hit the same spot again. “R-Right there.”
“There?” He questioned with a smirk. “What’ll happen right there baby?” He asked, quickening his pace.
“L-Luca I’m…” Her orgasm rippled through her when he rubbed her clit again, tight circles with pressure that drove her crazy. She arched and writhed beneath him as the extra stimulation made it too much for her. She grabbed his wrist as she tried to push him away, whimpering weakly.
“Not yet.” He grabbed her wrist and pinned it against her underbelly as he continued to fuck her. She continued to try and push his hand away as tears began to well up in her eyes. “Just a little longer.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers as he kept his pace. “Where can I-” She wrapped herself around him without thinking, biting his shoulder when he let out a low bellow that vibrated from his chest to hers. His hips snapping forward as his hot cum shot inside her. Luca plops down on top of her, his face against her chest as they both catch their breaths.
They laid there in silence, Luca’s eyes closed as she stared up at the ceiling in silence. His thumb gently rubbed against her waistline. He slowly pushed up to get off of her but she wrapped her arms around him to stop him. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, looking at her with slight worry in his eyes.
“I don’t want to let go yet.” She mumbled, her eyes still on the ceiling. She mentally cursed herself for how clingy she became. But she worried that if she did let him go, she’d be back at square one.
“How about..” He moved to sit up, able to get out of her hold. “We shower and then get some sleep?” He easily moved off the bed, holding his hand out for her to take. They smiled at each other when she took it. He easily picked her up and walked into the bathroom.
She walked into the restaurant first, thanking Luca as he held the door open for her. She went straight to the back to get changed before heading to her station. “Hey, good morning Chef.” Marcus said as he moved a bag of flour to a different table.
“Good morning Chef.” She cleared her throat, tying her apron around her waist.
“Hey.. I don’t wanna be weird or anything but you didn’t come back to the boat last night.” He spoke low, leaning forward a little.
“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling to herself as she tried to keep her eyes on the task in front of her rather than giving in to the urge to watch Luca.
“Are you okay?” He questioned, still curious.
“Yeah. Just needed to take care of some things.” She smiled at him, her eyes locking with Luca as he easily picked up a heavy bag of flour and placed it on the counter. He looked over at her, a small smirk forming on his lips before he focused on what he had been doing.
“Aah.. take care of some things. Okay.” He repeated, laughing to himself. She shoved him away as she tried to hide the embarrassment that tried to settle.
“I’m not about to play with you.” She laughed to herself before going back to prepping her station.
“Think you can handle the cream for today too, Chef?” Luca asked as he placed heavy whipping cream next to her along with a chilled metal bowl.
“Yes, Chef.” She nodded as she tried to keep herself composed when his hand gently brushed against hers.
“When you’re finished, help Marcus with the dough.”
“You got it, Chef.” She poured the cream into the chilled bowl and began to work.
“What are you doin’ tonight?” He asked softly, crossing his arms. She looked at him, unable to hide the excitement in her eyes.
“Probably catching up on sleep.” He grinned and crossed his arms.
“How do you feel about me making you dinner tonight?”
“Sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant but couldn’t help herself. “I’ll have to tell Marcus I’m not going to the boat tonight.”
“You’re staying on a boat?” He questioned, his eyebrow peaked in curiosity.
“Yeah.”
Luca watched as she turned her attention back to the whipping cream, his eyes lingering on the hickey peeking out from under her collar. Maybe instead of actual food, she’d allow him to have his fill off of her.
#smut#chef luca#chef luca x reader#Chef Luca x Reader smut#Chef Luca smut#Chef Luca The Bear#Luca the Bear#the bear season 2 Luca
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Luca x Reader - cam girl SMUT
warnings: 18+, fem!reader, lingerie, dirty talk, online sex, toys, sub!reader, mild voyeurism, masturbation, light sir & chef kink
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
When Luca first discovered Y/N's cam page, he closed his laptop and pushed it away. She was his coworker, the saucier, and he wasn't sure he could face her in the kitchen if he jerked his dick to her videos. But he couldn't help the way his cock throbbed more in his pants. He had always found her quite attractive, and she would never even know if he had watched her videos or not.
So, he opened his laptop again, tugging down his pants and boxers, and clicking on her first video.
She wore a dark red lingerie set, the lace hiding her breasts and mound from view.
"I've waited all day to see you," Y/N's voice purred through the tiny laptop speakers. "I'm so needy without you, d'you wanna see?" Luca found himself whispering a "yes" in response, knowing fully well she couldn't hear him. But she began to strip on the screen, her tits on full display. Luca's cock strained, and he teased the head, wishing he could play with those beautiful tits, worship them with his mouth. He watched in awe as she stripped the panties as well, her soft pussy visibly wet and a cute red jewel tucked tightly into her ass. He watched as she grabbed the dildo from off screen running the length up her cunt to collect her wetness.
She spread her legs for the camera to view, and Luca could only focus on what it would be like to eat her for hours, keeping that beautiful cunt wet 24/7 for his use.
"Ah," her voice echoed through his bedroom. "You're so big, sir!" He watched her tight pussy struggle to take the dildo at first, having to work it into herself. Luca thought about destroying her with his size, her pussy would gush just to try and take his whole cock. She'd feel it in her stomach while he fucked her, moaning nothing but his name. On the screen, she thrusted the dildo in her cunt.
"Oh fuck, please sir, please cum inside me!" she begged over and over again. "Cum inside my pussy please!" Luca tugged his dick harder, growling aloud in his empty apartment, promising to fill her hungry pussy with his load. He imager her calling him chef instead of sir, and he only felt his cock get harder. He released on his hand, jerking himself beyond his orgasm.
He felt dirty masturbating to his coworker, but he couldn't help but feel it might've been the best orgasm of his life.
Thus began his ritualistic masturbation to her videos every evening after leaving the restaurant.
xxxxxxxxx
part 2???
#fanfic#writing#smut#female reader#the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear headcanon#luca the bear#the bear smut#pastry chef luca#chef luca x reader#luca x reader#chef luca smut#pastry chef#camgasm#cam grl#cam gal#p0rnstar#will poulter smut#cloudy's thots#wheel of sluttopia
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Imagine being Luca’s girl
Mostly ooey gooey fluff but a smidge of NSFW material below 🤭
You grow to love Carmy and Marcus
Because how couldn’t you? You spent many long nights in your kitchen with Carmy and Luca, both of them meticulously perfecting whatever they were working on for class. You’d be their chief taste-tester, and a welcomed distraction when they got too far in their own heads. You nearly cried you guys dropped him off at the airport, already telling him to call soon.
After Marcus left, you almost had Luca convinced you wanted to move to Chicago. You were constantly remarking about how funny Marcus was, how you hoped Carmy was being nice to Marcus. Luca liked to joke you just wanted to leave him for Marcus.
He’s good, baby, but not as good as you.
Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it, my love.
You take walks around Copenhagen everyday
You take morning walks by yourself, headphones in and the cool Danish air revitalizing your senses, filling the day while Luca is at work. You’d listen to Danish lessons and quietly practice as you walked, or hum along to music while you enjoyed the weather. Sometimes you still don’t believe you get to live in a place this beautiful.
When he finishes up his day, though, Luca is beside you with his strong fingers tangled lovingly in yours. Whether he’s taking you to try a new spot that just opened up, or just to enjoy some time together, Luca loves seeing your face light up at all the pretty views throughout the city.
Plus you love having your friends and family visit and taking them around to all the coolest new pop-ups or the oldest buildings in the Historic District.
He always wants to have his hands on you
A hand resting on your thigh when you’re sitting together at a restaurant, or on your lower back while you work in the kitchen. Sometimes he just wraps his strong arms around you and tucks his head into your neck, regardless of where you are or what you’re doing. Luca’s always touching you in some way.
A lot of the touches are innocent, a soft tap to your nose to punctuate a sentence or a gentle squeeze on your bicep before he leaves the room. Not all, though, are so sweetly motivated.
He knows just how to get you worked up. A kiss to your neck turns into a bite to your earlobe and dirty words whispered into your ear.
You’re so pretty, you know that, sweet girl?
Luca…
Let’s get you home, hm? Can’t keep my hands off you, my love.
THE SEX
Luca works with his hands and that translates to all areas of his life.
His fingers dance down your body, stopping at all his favorite places. Squeezing your nipples or a pinching your inner thighs is how he starts off most of the time — his ultimate goal to drive you wild.
When he decides he’s teased enough, though, oof. This man knows exactly how to make you writhe beneath him, whines of ecstasy filling his ears and spurring him on.
He’ll make you cum at least twice before he even thinks about fucking you. Luca is convinced he’s in heaven when cries of his name fall from your pink lips, swollen from literally biting back moans.
He’ll pound you into the mattress or make love to you like it’s the last time depending on what you two were vibing with that day. He never tries anything new without first discussing it with you, but sometimes you just want him to fuck you like you’re his own personal whore and he is happy to oblige.
Luca can be so sickeningly sweet, too, that you can’t help questioning how you got so lucky. He’ll hold your face with his strong hands, cradling your head and pressing soft kisses into your lips. He whispers in your ear how much he loves you and how beautiful you are and how he can’t wait to spend his life with you while he grinds his hips into you, his thick cock reaching all the delicious spots you love. Swoon.
Luca is just so fucking in love with you it hurts
He can’t help but talk about you at work and brag about how fire your cooking is or how good you are at Scrabble. Literally any excuse he can use to just dote on you is good enough for him.
He leaves you love letters by the bed, picks up a bouquet of wildflowers on his way home, loads the laundry so you don’t have to, literally anything to make you smile. It’s his favorite sight in the whole world.
You’d have the prettiest Copenhagen wedding
When Luca finally proposes — he kept you guessing for months after going to a jeweler to look at rings — He presents you with the most perfectly delicate and elegant ring. You wear it proudly, beaming to anyone who will listen how much you love it.
It’s a simple fall wedding, complete with handmade pastries and desserts that Marcus insisted on making for free. Short and sweet, your vows are so mushy and loving that they leave everyone in attendance blubbering, even Carmy.
Luca promises to give you a beautiful life and spend all of his days making you laugh. You promise to support his every dream and be his place to land when he needs to rest. Swoon again.
Basically Luca is just the sweetest, most thoughtful partner ever and you happily spend all your days making sure he knows how much you love him for it
#chef luca x reader#chef luca#carmy berzatto#marcus the bear#luca the bear#chef luca fluff#chef luca smut#the bear imagine#the bear#the bear x reader#kdogreads
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