#Carmen Berzatto x you
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carmen berzatto who has tattoos that remind you of him. heâd get the outline of your nails where they dig into his shoulders. heâd get your initials somewhere once you two settle down.
also bonus thought: you who gets carmenâs name tattooed on you somewhere - probably your lower back, and forgetting to tell him. so when he asks for something in the kitchen one night and you go to reach, your shirt rides up and there it is! his name on you.
heâd short circuit for sure, not really asking questions about it. i feel like itâd be more of an unspoken thing, though his finger 100% traces it when you two are cuddling or making out or something
#mae after dark!#mae writes: the bear â#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto thoughts#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fx#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto thoughts#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader
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nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|



prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.
based off this prompt from the other day :)
contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.
âAlright, listen up,â Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. âWe need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.âÂ
âYes, Chef!â A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmenâs pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.Â
âAnd for table nine, weâve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So letâs triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?â Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.Â
âYes, Chef!â Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.Â
âTable nine, is that- thatâs the senator?â Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoriaâs station, giving her a curt nod of approval.Â
âNo, thatâs table eleven.â Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. âNine, is⊠a birthday. Booked online.â Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.Â
The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?Â
You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. Youâd even invited him over to your place a few times, heâd spent the night last week.Â
Still, Carmen hadnât managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmenâs life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasnât purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasnât ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.Â
âCarmen?â Sydneyâs voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. âChef, are you- are you good?â Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.Â
âWhat?â Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richieâs frame blocking most of it. âSorry, yeah- yeah, Iâm good, Chef.âÂ
Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richieâs eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.Â
There you were.Â
Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. Heâd actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadnât felt since junior high.Â
âAlright, walk five salads to nine.â Sydney called out. âWhereâs our runners? God, Richie, can you run-âÂ
â-I got it.â Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.Â
âCousin, I can get it.â Richie frowned.Â
âNo, I-I got it.â Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. âI got it. Iâll be- Iâll just be a second.âÂ
âI donât- I canât even handle that one right now.â Sydney sighed in exasperation. âAlright, Chefs. Letâs get back on track.â She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.Â
Sugarâs cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.Â
From: RichieÂ
âLook at table nine.âÂ
Sugar huffed.Â
To: RichieÂ
âWhy? Is there something wrong?âÂ
She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?Â
To: RichieÂ
âIs something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?âÂ
From: RichieÂ
âNo. Cousin wanted to go out there.âÂ
Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.Â
Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. âHey,âÂ
âHi,â You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. âEverything looks so good.âÂ
âYeah? Thanks.â Carmen nodded. âI-I didnât know you were cominâ tonight.âÂ
âIâm sorry.â You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldnât have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.Â
âI, uh, itâs my friendâs birthday.â You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. âAnd I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.â Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them. Â
âYeah, no, thatâs really nice. Thank you.â Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didnât see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. âWhy didnât- Why didnât you just call me? Tell me you were cominâ in.âÂ
âI didnât want to bother you.â You muttered softly. âI honestly didnât think youâd even see us here, I swear. I didnât mean to bother you or anything-âÂ
â-Youâre not bothering me.â Carmenâs voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. âNever a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.âÂ
Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmenâs own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.Â
âAlright?â Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.Â
âAlright.â You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.Â
âHowâs everything so far?â Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.Â
âJust let me know if you need anything, ok?â Carmen turned to you.
âI will.â You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.Â
âGood. Iâll see you before you leave, alright?â Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. âYouâre not botherinâ me. âM glad youâre here.âÂ
Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.Â
Carmen could feel everyoneâs eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydneyâs gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fakâs wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.Â
âHey, uh, Marcus.â Carmen ignored Richieâs raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.Â
âYes, Chef?â Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.Â
âTable nine has a birthday. I was thinkinâ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?â Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.Â
âYeah, Chef, I can do that.â Marcus nodded.Â
âThank you.â Carmen nodded. âAnd Chef? Let me know when itâs ready before you walk it.âÂ
Marcus frowned. âNo, itâs not- I just wanna walk it, ok?â Carmen shook his head.Â
âAlright.â Marcus nodded slowly. âHeard, Chef.âÂ
Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. âSo,â Richie hummed. âThere a complaint or somethinâ? Need me to go talk to âem-âÂ
â-No,â Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. âSorry, itâs- No, I-I donât need you to do that, Chef. Everythingâs good.âÂ
Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. âYou gonna tell me what that was about?âÂ
âNo, Chef.â Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. âBut, uh, thereâs not gonna be a check on table nine.âÂ
âWhat?â Richie frowned. âDid you mess somethinâ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong itâs my job to know-âÂ
â-No, itâs not-.â Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. âLook, thatâs⊠The girl on the end? I-Iâve been kinda seeinâ her, ya know?â He muttered.Â
Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. âNo shit.â He grinned. âNo shit? You-Youâre serious?â He turned to look out the window.Â
âDonât fuckinâ look.â Carmen hissed. âLook, it-itâs not a big deal, alright? Just donât-donât say anything o-or do anything.âÂ
Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.Â
This time, Richie held back. He wasnât sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.Â
âAlright.â Richie nodded slowly. âNo ticket for nine. Heard.âÂ
Carmenâs foot tapped anxiously. âI mean, right? Th-Thatâs what I should do right?â Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. âThat would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?âÂ
âYeah,â Richie scoffed lightly. âJagoff of the fuckinâ year. Makinâ your girl pay to come to your place.âÂ
Carmenâs heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.Â
âWalk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.â Sydney called.Â
Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. âSo, you gonna take these out?â He muttered.Â
âNo,â Carmen huffed. âGonna wait until the cake.âÂ
âYeah, good idea, Cousin.â Richie nodded with a proud smile. âThat when youâre gonna tell them no check tonight?âÂ
âNo,â Carmen shook his head. âI donât- It would feel weird cominâ from me.â He looked up at Richie. âI was gonna let you do it.âÂ
âYeah, I can handle that.â Richie smirked. âAnd I wonât say anything, Cousin.â He stopped Carmen before he could say it. âI got you, Cousin. I wonât fuck it up, alright?âÂ
Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmenâs heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.
#thebearer#bearblahs#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy x you#carmen berzatto âx fem!reader#carmen berzatto x female!reader#carmen berzatto x you#richie jerimovich#marcus brooks#sydney amadu#tina the bear#neil fak#sugar berzatto#carmy fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#the bear fic#carmy the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#thebearerblurbs
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Hi Jade ! I loove your sunshine!readers, could I request one for Carmy ? Maybe someone calls her to get to the restaurant when hes feeling anxious to calm him down idk if thats good lol love ya !
ty for requesting <3 fem, 1.4k
Is it The Beef or The Bear? In your head, despite the wishes of everyone who works there (except for Ebra, who seems to have mixed opinions), you always call it The Beef. But the sign brags otherwise, and when you push open the doors, nothing inside is left to remind you of the old restaurant. It was a total gut.Â
âHi, gorgeous,â says a familiar, warm voice.Â
You almost walk straight into her table, distracted looking for brown curls through the kitchen doorâs little window. âHey, Tina.â You grin at your second favourite chef. Your most favourite Sous. âYou taking a break?âÂ
She offers you a round butter cookie from a sleeve of them. Her cup of coffee billows with steam. âUh-huh.âÂ
âHiding from a meltdown?â you ask, taking a cookie, fingers oily with butter, sugar grains falling to the floor.Â
âItâs not like that,â she says.Â
Well, what is it like? you think.Â
Richieâs text wasnât exactly descriptive. Need ur help with the little Bitch, heâd said. Then, when you didnât answer, ASAP!!!!
You figured it mustâve been another rant. Heâs prone to these⊠episodes of anger where he doesnât realise heâs spinning out and hurting people who really care about him. You try to bring him out of it, but heâs a Berzatto. Theyâre all the same, sort of. Everything thatâs wrong with them has been stamped into them a long, long time ago.Â
Heâs been better since Nat steel armed him into AA, but still. You tilt your head to one side, sugar cookie between your fingers, listening for the goings on in the kitchen. âSydneyâs here?â you ask. âI thought she was sick.âÂ
âSydney gets sick, but she doesnât take sick days,â Tina says with a loving shrug.Â
You smile at her in brief goodbye for now and make your way to the kitchen, where you push in quietly. All their âBehind!â and âCorner!â and âHands!â makes you laugh, and you canât take it seriously so you donât, but youâre not trying to be dangerous in there either.Â
âHello?â you ask.Â
Sydney and Richie look up from a cramped notebook at the table nearest to the door. There are employees you're unsure of prepping vegetables along the wall, but Carmy isnât anywhere to be seen.Â
âFucking finally,â Richie says, before rubbing his face regretfully. âIâm sorry, itâs justâ I texted you an hour ago, babe, youâre letting me down.âÂ
You laugh. âSorry, babe,â you tease. âI have a job, just like you.â Your hands are cold where you tuck them under each armpit, crossing your arms. âHi, Sydney. You feeling okay?âÂ
âNo. Heâs stressing me out.âÂ
âWhich one?âÂ
âBoth of them.â She looks like she might rub her face too. âI need him to be in here right now, he should be doing this, but he keeps walking away andâ and not saying where heâs going.âÂ
âHe is stressful,â you agree, though usually Carmyâs stress tends to bounce right off of you, âIâm gonna find him and strap him down for you.âÂ
Sydney just frowns.Â
âIâll see whatâs up,â you say more seriously. âIn the office?âÂ
âOut the back,â Richie says. âSmoking like his mother. Heâs a fucking steam train lately.âÂ
Itâs like they want to worry you. You give them grateful nods, sorry nods, and start to make your way out of the main kitchen, past the dishwashers and the dessert station to one of the back doors. Carmy isnât your responsibility. You donât have to apologise for him, you donât have to mother him, he should commit to his responsibilities all on his own, but⊠itâs hard. You like apologising for him because his behaviour isnât always on purpose, and he struggles with commitment for similar reasons. Thereâs this aching, stagnated grief in him thatâs reawakening, thereâs the stress of the restaurant, his business, the scars of the last ten years, and before that. You know it isnât your job to come here and make him feel better, but isnât it? When you love someone, itâs half the deal.Â
Carmy shouldnât yell at his friends, or employees. He shouldnât chain smoke, and he shouldnât be sitting on the low wall by the dumpsters shaking so hard with his head so low that you can see the first notch of his spine in his shirt.Â
âCarmy?â you ask.Â
His head ducks further down. You can hear him breathing, not too hard as to alarm you, and yet unrelaxed.Â
You smile without thinking. You hate seeing him like this, but looking after him is a pleasure. âHey, Carmen. Can I sit with you?âÂ
He forces his face up. âWhat are you doing here?â he asks.Â
Trying to make sure he doesnât tear another chunk out of Richie. âItâs my lunch break.âÂ
You perch on the wall beside him and snap your nearly forgotten cookie into two pieces, one side bigger than the other, which you offer him.Â
Carmy takes it. Looks at it without expression, though that slowly turns to a dry ire youâve felt directed your way a hundred times. âWhat the fuck is this?âÂ
âCookie.âÂ
âI donât want this.âÂ
âCould you just eat it?â You put your own half in your mouth in its entirety, all aligned to your teeth. It shatters into sweet, soft crumbs between your teeth. You talk with a hand over your mouth, âItâs not gonna kill you.âÂ
Carmy looks at it for a long time before he eats it.Â
You watch him. Heâs more tan than youâd think, that Italian gene kicking in, skin clinging to whatever sunshine it finds. He spends enough time inside that youâre surprised it can muster the energy. He looks better with it though, his curls look gold toned under the sun, and his clenched jaw doesnât seem so harsh.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask eventually. Almost conversationally.Â
âNothing.â His hand shakes on his thigh. He turns his palm down to clasp his knee.Â
âYou sure?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âThat oneâs my favourite.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
You poke toward a tattoo on his hand. Itâs a simple flower, same style as most of his tattoos. âI like it âcos itâs just a flower.âÂ
âMy least pretentious,â he guesses.Â
âSomething like that.âÂ
He tips his head back.Â
âRichie texted me. He thinks Iâm gonna⊠like, Iâm gonna calm you down, I guess.âÂ
âYou always do,â he says.Â
You give him a long, smiley look. âSo youâre in love with me?â you ask warmly, pushing up into a knee to wrap your arm behind him, hugging him before he can move away. âYouâre totally fucked for me, Berzatto, thatâs fucking crazy.âÂ
âFuck off,â he laughs.Â
You rub his arm, his skin hot in your hold. He touches your waist very, very lightly. âWhat am I supposed to do, anyway? I canât cook. You and Syd are on your own.âÂ
âYou already⊠already did enough.â He grabs your waist where you wobble on the brick wall, grit biting your knees, his hand comparatively soft.Â
âSuch a crush on me,â you tease in a whisper, his hair crushed under your cheek.Â
Youâre tempted to kiss his temple, but affection with Carmy is like oil and water sometimes. You give him a last protective squeeze and sit yourself down again.Â
âCarm,â you say, âyou know you can call me, right? Like, if you donât feel okay.âÂ
âYeah. Yeah, I know.âÂ
âOr text me. If thatâs easier. Itâs hard to say hard things out loud.âÂ
He laughs again. âSorry.âÂ
âI know, I donâtâ I donât seem like I know what youâre talking about, I get it, but I do understand. Nâ even if I didnât, I donât mind listening. Or laughing at you.âÂ
âWhatâs that about?âÂ
âThe laughing?â you ask. âYou tell me.âÂ
His hand slides behind your back in half a hug. âGuess itâs funny.âÂ
âCan I change my mind about the tattoo?âÂ
âThe flowers not your favourite?âÂ
âNo. You know which one I like best?âÂ
His thumb rubs into your back. âThe snail.âÂ
âAbsolutely the snail. Youâre so fucking silly sometimes, Iâm supposed to take you seriously when youâre yelling and red in the face with a snail on your arm?âÂ
You canât see his face with your cheek to his shoulder, wonât know that heâs smiling at you with a rare aura of peace. Canât see the wanting, either.Â
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x y/n#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto drabble#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy x reader#carmy#carmy x you#carmy blurb#carmy drabble#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto drabble#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear fic
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The Cook and The Teacher!
Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.
Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!
You sat at the table, doing your best to appear interested as your date droned on about his latest work achievements. Something about managing accounts, sealing big deals, and being âessentialâ to the success of his company. Youâd lost track of the details five minutes in, your polite smile starting to feel like a workout for your face.
ââŠbut you wouldnât get that,â he said, waving his hand dismissively, like you were a child. âTeaching kids and all. Itâs like... coloring books and snack time, right?â
Your smile faltered, and you tightened your grip on the stem of your wine glass, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. âNot quite. Itâs actually pretty challengingâteaching is about shaping young minds, not just... crayons.â
âSure, sure,â he said, nodding like he wasnât really listening. âBut you have to admit, itâs not exactly high stakes.â He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin stretching across his face. âI mean, no offense.â
âNone taken,â you replied tightly, though the bile creeping up your neck said otherwise. You took a slow sip of your wine, hoping the glass might serve as a buffer between his words and your patience. Spoiler: it wasnât working.
Inwardly, you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. What had Ava said when she pitched the idea? âGirl, youâre way too cute to be single and wasting away in that apartment of yours. You need to get out there. Shake things up. And this guy? Total catchâtall, successful, and probably rich. Youâre welcome.â
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Avaâs relentless confidence had rubbed off on you, and the idea of putting yourself out there sounded... productive, if not promising. After all, your secret crush on your cute neighbor wasnât going anywhere.
Carmy.
You couldnât help but think about him as Ben prattled on about his âhuge network.â Carmy was quiet, focused, and sweet in a way you didnât think he realized. But he was also impossible to read. Sure, youâd had a few conversations here and there, shared a laugh or two, but heâd never made a move. You hadnât eitherâparalyzed by the thought of misinterpreting things and embarrassing yourself.
Which is how youâd ended up here, with Ben. Wonderful, condescending Ben, who clearly thought your lifeâs work was a joke.
âAnd this place,â Ben said, gesturing around the restaurant with a smug grin. âPretty great, right? Super exclusive. I know a guy who knows the chef here. Heard heâs like, a genius or something. Figured weâd go all out.â
You glanced around the dimly lit space, suddenly more aware of the upscale decorâthe polished wood tables, the soft amber glow of the overhead lights, and the quiet hum of conversation that seemed to fill the air like music. It was... fancier than youâd expected.
The Bear.
Youâd heard of it, of courseâwho hadnât? It was one of those places people raved about, where getting a reservation was an accomplishment in itself. The kind of place where you know the food would be incredible, but the bill would make you question your life choices. Nice, but you were pretty sure you could only afford, like, a cup of water here.
Ben leaned in closer, grinning smugly. âThis chef guy? Supposedly some kind of prodigy. I donât know the details, but people say heâs a big deal. Good thing Iâve got connections, huh?â
âMhm,â you hummed, noncommittal, as you glanced toward the bustling kitchen. A wave of heat and light spilled out from behind the pass, where you could just make out the shadowed figures of chefs moving in synchronized chaos.
As you sipped from your wine glass, trying to find something redeemable about Benâs endless self-promotion, you wondered if maybe Ava had oversold this whole âdating adventureâ thing.
Carmy spotted you the second you walked in.
Heâd been at the pass, focused on plating an intricate dishâa delicate arrangement of seared scallops and edible flowersâwhen his gaze drifted toward the dining room. His hands paused mid-motion, a faint crease forming between his brows as he recognized you.
You were hard to miss, sitting near the window in a corner booth, your posture poised but just slightly tense. Dressed in something a little sleeker than usual, you looked... different. Not in a bad wayânever in a bad wayâ Not that you ever looked anything less than beautiful, but tonight, something about you seemed⊠striking, enough that he found himself staring longer than he shouldâve.
His eyes flicked to the guy sitting across from you. The guy who was laughing too loud, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, gesturing with wild hands as he talked. You, on the other hand, wore a polite smile that didnât quite light up the room as it usually did.
Carmyâs jaw tightened. He wasnât sure why the sight of you with someone else tugged at his chest the way it did, but it lingered, heavy and unwelcome.
Itâs none of your business, he told himself, forcing his focus back to the dish in front of him. You werenât his to worry about.
You werenât his at all.
Still, his gaze flicked back toward your table, almost involuntarily, catching the way your date seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Carmyâs stomach twisted at the thought. He didnât know what he expectedâmaybe for the guy to notice the way you played with your napkin or to tone down his boisterous toneâbut it wasnât this.
âChef?â Sydneyâs voice broke his focus, sharp but professional.
âYeah,â he muttered, snapping back to reality. His eyes returned to the plate in front of him, the arrangement now slightly skewed from his distraction. He adjusted it quickly, his movements precise but tighter than usual. âThanks, Chef.â
As Sydney moved on, Carmy risked one last glance at you. The corner booth, the dim lighting, the guy who couldnât seem to shut upâit all felt wrong. But he pushed it down, buried it under the quiet rhythm of the kitchen, telling himself it wasnât his place to care.
And yet, he did.
He cared enough to, like some kind of creep, step out of the kitchen and hover near the hallway that led to the restrooms. It wasnât a planânot really. He told himself he just needed a breather, a moment to clear his head and shake off the knot in his chest. But he wasnât fooling anyone, least of all himself.
The low hum of the restaurant buzzed in his ears as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didnât even know what heâd say if you saw him. Maybe heâd play it off, and act like he just happened to be there. But then, what were the odds youâd even notice him? You were here with someone else, after all.
It was ridiculous, he knew thatâirrational evenâ he should go back, really what the fuck was he thinking--
But the sound of heels clicking softly against the floor pulled him from his spiralling thoughts. His breath hitched as you turned the corner, and your expression turned to one of shock when you spotted him.
âCarmy?â you said, stopping mid-step. Your voice carried a note of surprise, but there was something else there tooâcuriosity, maybe, or even relief at seeing a familiar face in such an unfamiliar situation.
âHey,â he said, standing a little straighter, as if he hadnât just been loitering near the hallway like a guilty teenager. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. âDidnât think Iâd see you here.â
You blinked, your eyes flicking over his clothesâthe crisp white uniform. The realization dawned on you, and your brows lifted in surprise.
âYou work here?â
âYeah,â he said, shifting his weight slightly. âI, uh... I own it.â
Your eyes widened, and you couldnât help the soft laugh that escaped you. âYou own it?â
âYeah,â he said again, a bit softer this time. His lips twitched into a faint, almost sheepish smile. âI started it a while back. Kind of⊠a long story.â
You took a moment to process this revelation, glancing around the restaurant as if seeing it in a new light. The warm lighting, the carefully plated dishes youâd glimpsed on their way to other tablesâit all made sense now. Of course, this was Carmyâs place. It was thoughtful, deliberate, but somehow unpretentious.
âWow,â you said, meeting his gaze again. âThatâs... impressive.â
Carmy shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets. âItâs just work. Nothing fancy.â
âNothing fancy?â you repeated, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the elegant decor. âCarmy, this place is gorgeous. Youâre way too modest.â
"Thanks," His lips twitched into a faint smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching before he added, âYou didnât look like you were having a great time out there.â
You blinked at the sudden change in topic, your surprise melting into something closer to embarrassment.
âOh,â you said, glancing toward the dining room before meeting his gaze again. âYeah, itâs... itâs a date.â
Carmyâs jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his expression didnât waver.
âFigured,â he muttered, his voice steady but low.
âNot a great one,â you admitted, your lips quirking into a dry smile. âBlind date, courtesy of Ava. Itâs... fine, I guess. Heâs just... not my type.â
Carmy raised an eyebrow, his curiosity getting the better of him. âWhatâs your type, then?â
The question caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as his words hung in the air. You laughed softly, deflecting. âI donât know. Someone who doesnât treat teaching like itâs a hobby or call it a job anyone can do.â
His lips twitched into a faint smirk, and he shook his head in disbelief. âHe did not say that.â
You groaned dramatically, closing your eyes as if the memory physically pained you. âOh, but he did. Word for word, and I quote: âTeaching is important, I guess. But itâs gotta be, like⊠easy, right? Summers off, finger painting, all that?â And thenâthen!âhe laughed. Like heâd just unlocked the secret to stand-up comedy.â
Carmy blinked, his smirk fading into something closer to incredulity. âYouâre kidding.â
âI wish I were,â you said, sighing dramatically. âYouâd think he was trying out his Type Five for open mic night. And the piĂšce de rĂ©sistance? He throws in the classic âno offense.â Like thatâs a verbal Ctrl+Z or something.â
That earned a real laugh from Carmy this time, his shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head. âWhat the hell? So, this is what youâre dealing with?â
âOh, but Iâm thriving,â you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm waving your hand dismissively. âPeak romantic energy. Nothing like being told my career is a glorified arts-and-crafts workshop to really get the sparks flying.â
Carmy leaned slightly against the wall, crossing his arms as he listened. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâirritation, maybe, or quiet disbelief. âAnd youâre still out there?â
âExcellent question, Chef Carmy,â you said, pointing at him with mock gravity. âI think itâs a mix of morbid curiosity, sheer stubbornness, and maybe a touch of guilt. I mean, he did spring for the wine. Even if he did refer to it as a âtop-shelf pour.ââ
That made Carmy snort, his head dropping slightly as he tried to compose himself. âTop-shelf pour, huh? Sounds like a real charmer.â
You laughed softly, though there was a bite of bitterness in it. âOh, totally. Itâs been a real dream date. Honestly, if he makes one more crack about teaching being âeasy,â I might justââ You mimed strangling someone, your hands curling dramatically as you added a mock growl for effect.
Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. âIâd pay to see that.â
âDonât tempt me,â you shot back, your grin sharpening. âIt might get me out of this date, but Iâm pretty sure assault charges arenât a great look for me.â
He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. âFair point.â
Your playful energy dimmed slightly as you glanced toward the dining room. âAnyway, I should probably get back out there before he starts mansplaining the wine list to the waitress. Again.â
Carmyâs lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but instead, he straightened up quickly, the weight of his role as head chef settling back onto his shoulders. âYeah, I should... head back to the kitchen too. Got a lot to wrap up tonight.â
You turned back to him, your expression softening. âThanks, by the way,â you said, holding his gaze. âFor... checking in, I guess. You didnât have to do that.â
He shrugged a gesture that looked casual but felt like it carried more weight. His voice dropped slightly as he replied, âYeah, I did.â
The words hung there for a beat, his meaning lingering just beneath the surface as the two of you locked eyes. The air between you felt heavy, almost tangible, like a thread being pulled taut. You wanted to say somethingâanything. Maybe a joke to break the tension, or maybe the truth: that you liked him, that you wished it was him sitting across from you tonight, making you laugh instead of testing your patience.
Unbeknownst to you, Carmyâs thoughts ran dangerously close to yours. Heâd been replaying every interaction with you since the day you moved in next door, every laugh, every casual smile. The thought of you with someone elseâsomeone who didnât seem to notice the little things about you the way he didâmade his chest tighten in ways he couldnât explain.
But before either of you could give voice to the thoughts swirling in your heads, the faint sound of your dateâs voice carried through the hallway, breaking the moment like a needle scratching across a record. You winced slightly, the weight of reality pulling you back.
âUgh. Thatâs my cue,â you said, shooting Carmy an exaggerated grimace. âDuty calls.â
Carmy nodded, his expression carefully neutral, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the emotions he was trying to keep in check. âGood luck out there.â
âThanks,â you said with a wry grin. âIâll need it.â
Despite his words, his gaze lingered on yours, as if searching for something unspoken. For a moment, you thought maybeâmaybeâheâd say something more, but instead, he stepped back, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âSee you around,â he said, his voice quieter now.
âYeah,â you replied softly, your heart squeezing as you turned to head back toward the dining room. âSee you around.â
As you walked away, you couldnât shake the feeling that you were leaving something unfinished behind. And Carmy, watching you go, felt much the same, his hands flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to call after you.
When he finally turned back toward the kitchen, his jaw tightened, the moment still playing over in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing himself to focus as he pushed open the swinging door. The familiar clatter and hum of the kitchen greeted him, but it did little to drown out the thoughts circling his head.
He barely made it three steps before Richie appeared, leaning casually against the counter with his signature smirk firmly in place.
âWell, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,â Richie drawled, crossing his arms. âWhatâs the matter, Cousin? Lose track of time out there? Or were you too busy making googly eyes at the customer? Can't blame you thought, she's gorgeous.â
Carmyâs jaw ticked, his shoulders stiffening. âShut up, Richie.â
--------
Your dateâs voice droned on, a monotonous background noise to your growing sense of regret. Why had you agreed to this? Why hadnât you just stayed home with a glass of wine and a good book?
Just as you were contemplating an excuse to leaveâfeigning a sudden headache, maybe, or an urgent call from a friendâa waiter approached your table. It wasnât the same one who had been serving you throughout the evening, but an older guy with an easy smile and a glimmering of mischief in his eyes carrying a small plate in hand. The plate held an assortment of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicate and intricate, like a tiny work of art.
âOh, I didnât order this,â you said, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him.
âItâs from the chef,â the waiter replied, his tone polite but with a glimmer of something knowing in his eyes.
Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching as you glanced instinctively toward the kitchen pass. Sure enough, Carmy was there, leaning slightly against the counter, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze was fixed squarely on you.
Your heart gave a little jolt, heat creeping up your neck as you turned back to the table.
Your date, meanwhile, was entirely oblivious to the silent exchange. He grinned widely, puffing out his chest a little as he gestured to the plate. âSee? Told you this place was top-notch. They mustâve recognized me. Perks of being a regular.â
It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. Instead, you bit back your amusement, your lips twitching into a barely restrained smile as you reached for one of the pastries.
âRight,â you said lightly, turning the pastry over in your hand. âMust be your VIP status.â
As you took a bite, the pastry practically melted in your mouth, a perfect blend of buttery richness and delicate sweetness. It was so good it almost made you forget the company you were keepingâalmost.
âYou know, this kind of attention doesnât happen just anywhere. Itâs all about knowing the right people.â
âMmm,â you murmured, taking a bite of one of the delicate confections. It melted in your mouth, rich and buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness.
When you glanced back toward the pass, Carmy was already gone, disappearing back into the kitchen as seamlessly as heâd appeared. But his gesture lingered, wrapping around you like a quiet reassurance, a small thread of comfort in an otherwise unbearable evening.
And for the first time that night, your smile wasnât forced.
A/N: Heyyy I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all those people who comment, like and reblog. Like fr you all make my week. Always looking for some ideas so please feel free to ask.
Also, please tell me if you want to be tagged. Be safe out there, please the world is too crazy at the moment. <3
Tags:
@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe
@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1
@darkestbeforethedawn16 @turtle-cant-communicate spideybv28 veryberryjelly @daisy-the-quake
Next part 7
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#reader-insert#reader insert#the bear#abbott elementary#abbott elementary x reader#ava coleman
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Pity Party.
Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader
Word Count - 3k
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.
Age Rating - 18+
Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.
"You're back early."
Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.
"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.
"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.
"You wouldn't even believe."
He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.
Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You think for a moment before replying.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.
"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."
He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.
"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"
"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.
"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"
"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."
He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.
"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."
"I'll hold you to that."
You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.
"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."
"And then?"
"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."
He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Tell me more."
"You really want to hear about all of this?"
It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.
"Of course I do."
His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.
"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."
Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.
"What the fuck?"
You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.
"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"
"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."
Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.
All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.
"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."
Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.
"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."
You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."
Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.
"Wh-... what?" you choke out.
"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."
His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.
"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.
Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.
"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."
His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.
"Okay."
He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."
"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."
"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."
He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.
"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.
"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"
You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.
"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."
He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.
"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."
"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.
Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.
Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.
"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.
Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.
"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.
You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.
"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."
He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.
"Give me a color, pretty girl."
You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.
"Green, Carmen. Promise."
You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.
You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.
"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."
"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.
He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.
"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."
Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.
Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.
"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."
His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.
Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.
"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."
With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.
"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"
You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.
Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.
After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.
"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"
You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.
Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.
"Doin' so good for me."
"You got it, honey, that's it."
"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."
"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."
"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."
All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."
You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"
The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.
"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."
"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.
"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."
You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.
"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."
Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.
Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.
"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.
"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.
You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"
"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."
You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.
You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.
"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.
"Come on, trouble."
He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.
The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.
#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto smut#roommate!carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader smut#the bear x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader#the bear fanfic#jeremy allen white#the bear smut#the bear imagine#roommate!carmy berzatto#roommate!carmen berzatto smut#roommate carmen berzatto#the bear fanfiction#the bear
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something new | luca x reader
i was awoken from a dream last night
contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops
a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well đ can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.
contents: 2.7k.
the climax right before morning's first light
ËË°âą*ââ·
Your body feels heavy as itâs pulled from a deep sleep.Â
Thereâs warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. âSâeverything okay?âÂ
Lucaâs chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment.Â
âAllâs fine, my love. Didnât mean to wake you so early.â
You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesnât wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning.Â
Thereâs lips on your neck now. âWas dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.â His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where youâre starting to crave him. Youâre whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. Heâs grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Lucaâs hard and heavy against you. âGonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.âÂ
Youâre shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm thatâs trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. âNo, no. Donât go.â The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. Thereâs a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed.Â
Heâs grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. âJust lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.â Luca makes sure youâre comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. Youâre wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesnât mind in the slightest.Â
His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear thatâs stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Lucaâs taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible.Â
âAlways so good for me, arenât you?â Youâre nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. âOnly yours, Luca.â Heâs groaning above you and thereâs warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now.Â
Thereâs a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. Heâs crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. Theyâre stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. âAre you passionate about these?â
You barely shake your head no, because again theyâre old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. Youâre needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.
Since Lucaâs doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. Heâs delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally heâd take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now heâs going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight.Â
Thereâs fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. Youâre slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you canât control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So heâs using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. Youâre wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Lucaâs making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs.Â
ïżœïżœïżœLuca, please.â He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. âAlways so greedy, arenât you?â You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. âAlright, alright.â His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise.Â
You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as youâll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy heâs turned you.Â
Not tonight. Youâre wet, yes. But you know thereâs going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing heâd stop the second you asked if needed.Â
The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. Heâs pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. âBe good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Canât have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.â Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you.Â
âBaby, please.â Pride swells in Lucaâs chest as you start to beg. If he hadnât been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still werenât used to him yet.Â
Thereâs a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldnât sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours.Â
âFeel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.â Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You canât form a thought when heâs got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out.Â
It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heartâs content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning heâs going to start moving, giving you a second to accept whatâs to come before the first roll of his hips hits.Â
Youâre a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. Itâs easy to do with him. âSâfull, Luc. So, so full.â Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, heâs proud to get you this way.Â
But God does the sight of you already have him close.Â
Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected.Â
His pace quickens and youâre back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldnât repeat whatâs coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Lucaâs grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace.Â
âSuch a perfect fuckinâ pussy. So wet for me, arenât you? Youâre gonna be sore all day now but you donât care. Every stepâs gonna remind you how good I fuck you.âÂ
Your head is spinning.Â
You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. Heâs⊠Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too.Â
One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and thereâs another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body.Â
His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well.Â
âCan you come for me, Darling? You can do that, canât you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.â Youâre squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two.Â
Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you.Â
Youâre crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up.Â
Lucaâs quick to follow after watching you come undone around him. Â
Heâs moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. Heâs breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you.Â
As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldnât leave you without anything left inside of you.Â
Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally heâd take his time with aftercare but sadly heâs lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. Heâs got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed.Â
He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. âYouâre so pretty.âÂ
Now after what just happened in the bedroom? Youâd think nothing would phase him.Â
But Lucaâs cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you.Â
Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. Heâs rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he canât help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head.Â
ËË°âą*ââ·
He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.
#now how am i supposed to tag this!!!#luca x reader#chef luca#chef luca x reader#luca x you#chef luca x you#chef luca smut#luca smut#the bear smut#the bear x reader#the bear x you#will poulter#will poulter smut#will poulter x reader#will poulter x you#adding other tags bc i fear no one knows his last name so it makes finding fics hard!!#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#richie jerimovich x you#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich smut
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God's Plan
prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.
pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader -> pairing: Carmy x Peach
fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear
collection masterlist: Clingy Baby
word count: 3.3k+
note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.
warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.
part two: Two to Tango
"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"
You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."
"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"
You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"
"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."
"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.
So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.
You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.
Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.
However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.
You were beat.
You were overwhelmed.
You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.
You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:
what time do you think you'll be off?
He replied when you got to your car:
maybe around 8?
You sniffled, nodding, answering:
okay, see you when you get home.
As you exited the parking lot, he replied:
what? you're off?
And you answered:
yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?
When you made three turns, he sent back:
i'll try, peach đ
When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.
You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,
hey, are you gonna be much later?
You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,
i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home
You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.
Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.
"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"
"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.
He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."
"But I haven't seen you."
"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"
"No, Carmen, go to sleep."
"You sound mad."
"I'm not."
"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.
"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."
He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"
"No, Carmen, Jesus - "
"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.
You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"
"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"
"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"
"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."
Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."
He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."
You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.
"And you can be a dramatic bitch."
"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.
Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."
"What?" You muttered.
"You're late for work."
"Called in."
He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."
You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.
He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.
After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.
When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.
You still hadn't woken up when he got back.
So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.
You were awake around 4 am.
The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.
Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.
You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naĂŻve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.
You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.
Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.
All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.
Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.
"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"
"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."
You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.
Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.
You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!
Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?
All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.
Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.
You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.
You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"
"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"
"No?"
"Where are you, then?"
"I'm home."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"
He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.
"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"
"Oh, well... Why're you there?"
"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."
"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.
"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."
"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"
"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."
"I thought we could get back into it tonight."
You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."
He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"
"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."
"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"
"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."
"But tomorrow's... Friday?"
"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.
"You didn't think to tell me?"
"Why would I?"
"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"
"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"
"Baby - "
"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.
"What?"
"We need space from this relationship."
"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "
"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."
"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"
"Not yet, no."
"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "
"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."
"I didn't mean that - "
"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."
He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.
When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.
[ part two: ] Two to Tango
requesting rules and masterlist
The Bear masterlist
Clingy Baby collection masterlist
#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto angst#the bear#the bear fx#fx the bear#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction
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promise to take care of my heart
carmy berzatto x fem!reader
gif by @emziess
word count: 1,830
warnings: nothing? a little swearing, but this is pure fluff and thatâs all
synopsis: carmy wants to cuddle with you for the first time.
a/n: hi! new character, i know. but iâve become rather attached to carm in the past few months and i had a cute idea for him and here we are. heâs bringing me so much comfort right now and now iâm gonna share that with you <333
ââââ
âWhy donât you pick out a movie or somethin,â bub?âÂ
âIf I could find your damn remote, Carm, I would.â
He lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes on his hands where they sit deep in the dishwater below. Good luck, he thinks.Â
You scan the coffee table, the rug below the shabby couch. Itâs not like thereâs any use checking the tv stand because itâs still a fucking table tray. You know he doesnât even own the full set of four table trays? Heâs just got the one? That knowledge keeps you up at night. Just like how he doesnât have a ceiling fan pull and has to get tweezers to change the speed.
You find the remote nestled in a stack of freshly organized books. You helped Carmen assemble a very simple bookshelf so that his stash of cookbooks wouldnât have to live on the floor anymore.Â
Just getting to help him turn his apartment into something other than a place to sleep brought you a contagious giddiness. Carmenâs chest aches with how much heâs laughed since he met you.Â
Look at all my muscles, Carm. Iâm practically ready for my dick now, donât you think?Â
Whereâd you even get these? Heâd looked down at the little allen wrench in your hand and said I donât know, they were just here one day.Â
Now you have a bookshelf, Bear. What a grown up.Â
Carmen wouldnât let you help him with the dishes after he cooked you dinner. Heâd just kissed your shoulder and said, âLet me take care of it, alright?â with that little raise of his brows and quirk of his lips telling you not to argue because youâd never win.Â
And when Carmen tells you to let him take care of something, wellâŠyou listen.Â
You havenât been dating very long, but itâs been enough that youâve both developed this rhythm, this way of moving around and with each other and you justâŠwork.Â
He doesnât understand how you can dial his shyness, his hesitance, so quickly, how you can make him feel like a human again so easily. But you do.Â
You settle against the back of the couch, flipping through the tv guide (because Carm has never subscribed to any streaming services) until you find something worth listening to. Itâs already a few minutes in, but youâve seen the movie enough times that it doesnât really matter.Â
The overhead light in the kitchen switches off and Carmen pads out to the living room, socked feet dragging on the hardwoods. Your biggest pet peeve is people who donât pick up their feet, but somehow itâs more tolerable when itâs him.Â
He sits down on the edge of the couch. Just sits. On the edge. That means he wants to say something. You give him the time to psych himself up.Â
Carmy chews on his thumb nail and rubs his nose before he turns to you, placing his hand on the couch. His blue eyes burn into yours, and the intensity of his gaze, trained on you, makes you feel like the most important person in the world.Â
âH-hey, umâŠcan weâcould we snuggle, maybe?â He flushes at the fact that he just used the world snuggle. Richie would have his ass so quick if heâd heard him say that.Â
Your grin is brilliant. Youâve never cuddled properly with Carmen before. Maybe a head on a shoulder or a leg tossed across another, but never a real cuddle session. âFuck yeah, we can, Carm.â You giggle and the sound softens that bubble of fear in his chest.Â
He bites the inside of his cheek, letting out the barest laugh.Â
âHow did you want t-to lay, Bear?â You blink at him. âWere you just gonnaââÂ
He starts to nod. âI was just gonna lay on your chest, honestly.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
âYeah, that works.â
âY-yeah.â
You snort. âLemmeâ stretch out for you and then you can be a teddy bear.âÂ
âSeriously?â
âYes.â Carmen shakes his head at you. He lets you pull that shit because he likes it. Secretly.
When you have a pillow under your neck and are laid out on your back, Carm slips beside you against the back of the couch and clumsily settles on top of you. He doesnât want to crush you or anything, so he settles between your legs, only allowing the weight of his torso to envelop you.Â
One arm wraps around your back, the other cradling your hip, his curls brushing your chin. He turns his head to face the tv and lets out a satisfied sigh.Â
On instinct your hand threads through his tangled hair, scratching at his scalp gently and sorting through any piece that feels knotted.Â
âWhat is this?â Carmy asks, nodding in the direction of the screen.Â
âThe Wedding Planner. It has Jlo and Matthew McConaughey in it.âÂ
âChick flick?â
You hum in agreeance. âYeah, but you wouldnât hate it. Jloâs character is like you but if the restaurant was a wedding planning business and you were, you know, a chick.â
He laughs lightly against your stomach and you can feel the puff of air over your shirt.Â
The weight of Carmenâs body on top of yours is easily the most calming feeling youâve ever experienced. You canât get enough of him.Â
âThis okay?â you ask, scratching his scalp a little more for emphasis. This is a new way of showing affection. Uncharted territory.Â
âHm?â He looks up at you briefly, blue eyes fluttering closed. âOh yeah, feels nice. I like it.â
You grin and continue to play with his hair. Heâs right. It does feel nice. It is.Â
The next few minutes go by without any conversation, just silence. But itâs so comfortable. Carmenâs tired gaze is on the tv. You can feel him breathing, feel the way he scratches over your back absently. You donât know if heâs aware he does it, but he nuzzles his nose against the soft of your stomach every now and then like itâs keeping him safe.Â
âYou know I thought about being a wedding planner?â
Carmy pushes up onto his elbows, looking at you with the smallest smirk playing on his lips. âReally?â
You playfully bat at his shoulder and he moves to lay back down, but not before pressing a kiss to your sternum over your shirt. âMhm. Still think about it sometimes.â You pause, but Carm doesnât say anything yet because he knows you arenât finished with that thought.Â
âI guess I just thought itâd be nice to help put things like that together? The organization would make me feelâŠcomplete, I guess. And you know I donât like to help people in such an extroverted way? I like to be behind the scenes.â You laugh, a little self-deprecatingly. âDoes that make sense?â
Carmen squeezes your side. ââCourse it does. And then you could come home and tell me stories about all the family drama you eavesdrop on.â
You giggle, and Carmy loves that he can feel it where he lays on your chest. He can feel your joy, and thatâs fucking cool. âThat I could.â
He rubs your back in small, gentle circles. âAnd you know, I happen to have some friends who make pretty good food and would be happy to help if you ever needed.â
âOh, do you? Well, thatâs very helpful, Mr. Berzatto. Youâll have to give me their number.â
Carmy laughs into your chest. A pure, genuine laugh. Itâs such a beautiful sound, and you truly think youâd have it tattooed all over your body if that was even remotely possible. His glee makes you laugh, and then youâre both snickering like youâre teenagers doing something thatâll get you in big trouble.Â
You reach for his hand, the one thatâs resting on your hip now, and he lets you lift it towards your face. He bites his cheek, fighting the smile that rises when you press your warm and chapstick covered lips to his knuckles.Â
âYou have such pretty hands, Carmy.â
He pinches your back. âI still donât get why youâre so fascinated by them.â
âBecause theyâre pretty. And, lookââ You hold yours up to his. ââtheyâre so much bigger than mine. And I like your tattoos, obviously. I like that I know how talented you are with your hands and how capable. Iâm very lucky to hold such capable hands, Bear.â
âCapable, huh?â He gives you a look, one that makes you want to both tackle him and smack him on the arm. Instead you roll your eyes and he raises up to kiss you.Â
âCapable of being the worldâs biggest pain in the ass.â
Carmy laughs. Itâs that little chuckle, light and airy and like he canât believe what heâs hearing but he wants to hear more anyway. He flops back down on your chest, making you let out a rather loud oomph.Â
You take Carmenâs hand in yours again, rubbing over the dry patches on his knuckles, the scabs on the insides of his fingers, the scar on his palm. His whole life is written in these hands.Â
You start massaging the pads of his fingers without even thinking about it. No oneâs ever been that gentle with himâdefinitely not with his handsâand a little part of him melts at the feeling.Â
You kiss the tattoo on the back of his hand and just look at his skin. Youâre determined to memorize each line and freckle and fucked up cuticle heâs got.Â
âAt least your nails donât look like Richieâs, Carm.â
His chest moves with the giggle that travels throughout his body.Â
âTrust me, they didnât look like that when he was still with Tiff.â
You grin, your eyes falling back on the television. Maybe Carm would be open to setting it on the bookshelf? That table tray has put in a lot of work. It deserves a break.Â
Carmen can see why youâre so fond of this movie. Itâs one of those that doesnât require much thought, that has humor and feels more human than most. He knows he shouldnât think it, but you having said what you said before makes him wonder if youâll plan your own weddingâŠwith him.Â
Shut the fuck up, he tells himself. But maybe weâll get there.Â
You catch him smiling when they fuck up the statue in the garden and pretend not to notice. You both keep quiet now, but Carm reaches up and puts your hand back on his head.
Your fingers thread through his curls again, scratching at his scalp gently. Your other hand does the same thing to his back. You know itâs going to lull him to sleep.Â
When you say it, heâs already dozed off. But you are so happy that you get to make him feel safe. That heâs comfortable enough to sleep on you like this. Lucky is an understatement.Â
âThank you for letting me in, Bear. I donât think my life has ever been this beautiful.â
ââââ
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever donât credit someone properly!
#savannahâs fics#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x female reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x female reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto comfort#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto comfort#carmy x reader#carmy the bear#carmy x you#carmy x fem!reader#carmy fluff#the bear#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfic
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dealing with it- chef luca
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gif from @ wiha-jun
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summary: you see carmen for the first time in years, things happen, but at least your husband is there for you :)
pairings: chef luca x fem! reader, EX carmen berzatto x reader
warnings: smoking, cursing, reader endorses smoking (it makes sense i promise), toxic relationships, fighting, happy ending, luca is a cutie pie, carm is an ass :(
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Carmen had been staring at you the whole night. You, standing diligently beside your mother, and Luca.Â
When dinner came and you sat beside Luca again, the question begged to leave his mouth, but he decided on waiting and watching.Â
âSo Y/n,â Sydney turned to you. âI would love to literally pick your brain apart for the inspo of your last cookbook.â
You chuckled. âWell, Luca and I went all around the world on our honeymoon and-â
âWhat?â Carmen choked on his drink. âS-sorry did I fucking hear that right? Honeymoon?â
Luca sighed deeply, the energy at the table shifting. âYes Carm, she said âhoneymoonâ.â
Honeymoon. You and Luca were married. Married and he didnât even know it. Married, and he hadnât even known that his last chance had been his last chance.Â
You were Chef Andreaâs daughter, and you were everyoneâs forbidden fruit. You worked with them, trained with them, and Carmen had been so deeply interested in you, that he broke the rules. He went after you, and he didnât even feel bad about it. Youâd started out dating in secret, then slowly warmed your mom up to the idea, and suddenly it was out in the open. Sure youâd had fights and sure, maybe it wasnât the most healthy relationship ever, but Carmen loved you. He still did. When it fell apart, it was all Carmenâs fault (as usual) and youâd sworn off chefs.Â
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âFucking hell Bear! Iâm asking you to do this one fucking thing for me, and itâs too fucking hard?â You shouted at the top of your lungs. âI love you! I moved to fucking Coppenhagen for you! I moved to fucking New York for you! What is your problem with me taking a job in London?! I can probably get you into the same place-â
âNO! No, I fucking donât alright? Youâre fucking- youâre fucking boring! You never make anything new- youâre so f-fucking obsessed with being the-the-the best at something that you wonât even try to innovate!â
You stood there, in his kitchen and he watched as the tears fell. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, holding your waist in his hands. He tried not to be offended or upset when you went rigid as he touched you, but he felt his heart break. âBaby I-Iâm sorry, look, yâknow Iâm sorry-âÂ
âYouâre a piece of shit Carm. Just because Iâm better than you doesnât mean you get to talk to me like that. Weâre not fucking trainees at my momâs restaurant anymore, alright? Iâm fucking better than you and i know it boils your fucking blood. I got this position. All on my own,â you spat. âYou are the lowest of the low Carm. I swear to fucking god, if I ever date another chef again, kill me.â
And with that, you walked out. Out of his apartment and out of his life.Â
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âW-wait so-s-, you two got married? Since when?â Carmen laughed, but it was wrong. It was forced and haunted, strange. Â
âSince the 14th of July last year,â Luca smiled and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.
âCongratulations guys,â Sydney smiled. âCarm, say congratulations,â she whispered and Carm nodded furiously.
âYeah! Yeah- congratulations to the liar and her shitty douchebag of a husband!â He cheered, gathering the attention of the other tables.Â
âStop making a fucking scene Carm,â your voice cut through the ringing in his ears. âThis isnât about you. This is about my mom, and what this restaurant meant to people. Stop. Being. An. Asshole.â
He felt like heâd been effectively bitch slapped, and he quietened down, but not before kicking Luca under the table.Â
Theyâd both been after you, back in the day. And youâd picked Carm at first, and realised your mistake. When you met Luca in London, you werenât going to mess it up again. 3 years later, you were a year married, and a lot happier. Too bad Carmen had to make everything about himself, again.
He went out to get some âairâ a little while later, and you followed him.Â
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âSoâŠâ you sighed, standing beside him. âHi.â
âHi,â he sighed. He watched as you took a cigarette out and lit it, then offered one to him. He shook his head.Â
âYou quit?â You asked, blowing the smoke away from him. He nodded. âYou should start again.â
He looked at you in confusion. âWhat?â
âYou shouldnât stop, youâre fucking crazy when you donât smoke,â you chuckled, though everything you said was true. Heâd tried to give it up for a month about 4 months into your relationship and it was the most stressful month of your life. You sighed as you thought about it. Every time he was rude to someone, you apologised for him. Every time he fucked something up, you made it up for him. Every time he did something stupid, you made it smart somehow. It was fucked up how much he relied on you, when you thought about it in hindsight. âEveryone will thank you.â
He laughed. âI guess that was a shitty month, huh?â
âOne of the worst of my life,â you admitted.Â
There was a moment of silence.Â
âI miss it,â He admitted.Â
âSmoking? You can have the rest of this pack-â
âUs.â
You sighed. âYou were doing so well,â you joked. âJust donât bring it up Carm, we donât need to dig up the past.â
âI want to,â he pleaded.Â
âI donât,â you scoffed. âThereâs nothing for us to talk about, nothing about us worked, nothing about us was ok, or normal, or happy, or-â
âDoes he make you happy?â Carmen asked, venom in his tone. âDoes he make you feel fuckinâ-fuckinâ butterflies? Does he fuck you like I did? D-does he even see you the way I did? Does he make you laugh?â
âHe doesnât make me cry,â you smiled softly, thinking of Luca and how much you truly loved him. âHe doesnât make me question our relationship everyday. He doesnât make me feel untalented and undeserving. He doesnât make me feel used. He met me in London when I was crushed after our break-up, and he healed something he didnât break in me, alright? He made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. My mom fucking loves him, a lot more than she liked you. He let me take everything at my own pace, and he never pushed me into something I wasnât ready for. He wasnât afraid to show his love for me to anyone! He didnât make me question if we were even dating, ever! And the best part is, he fucking married me Carm, in this gorgeous ceremony where he cried while I came down the aisle and he cried during his vows. Do you want to know what his vows were? Ask him when we get inside, because he got his and mine fucking tattooed on his arm!â You were welling up at this stage. âHe stood there with me, through thick and fucking thin, he made me feel loved when I felt unlovable, Carmen. And yes he gives me butterflies, yes he fucks me better than you ever did, and he sees me for who I am. So yes, he makes me very fucking happy Carmen.â
Carmen stood there for a moment, then nodded. âI still love you, you know that, right?â
You scoffed, stamping out your cigarette. âYou might want to get over that,â and you turned away, and walked back into the dinner. The rest of the dinner was quick, and you skipped the invite to Sydneyâs to retire to your hotel room. You sat on the bed, makeup wipes in hand as you tried to wash the night off of you.Â
âHey darling,â Lucaâs soft voice cut through the thoughts clouding your mind. âDo you want to talk about it?â
You smiled as he wrapped you up in a bear hug from behind, he was so perfect, so kind, so Luca. âSure.â
âI heard a little bit of what you said to Carmy outside.â
You took a deep breath. âYeah?â
âYeah,â he sighed. âBefore tonight, I was really fucking scared that when you found Carmy heâd somehow convince you I was a piece of shit and heâd sink his fucking claws into you again.â
You pressed a kiss to his arm and nodded. âHeâs fuckingâŠâ
âHeâs the worst,â he finished for you. âAnd Iâm sorry about what he said tonight. He shouldâve had the fucking manners to at least let us get to the third course before he started being a piece of shit.â
You both laughed, and you felt all the tension you held in slowly dissipate. âIt was so delicious.â
âIt was fucking amazing,â he pressed a kiss to your cheek. âYou mum really did something special there.â
âAt least weâll see her more in London,â you shrugged. âI really loved that place.â
âSo did I,â He sighed against your neck. âRemember training there? God, you were so fucking cute in your chefâs hat-â
âHats make me look stupid!â You argued, but laughed regardless. You flung his arms off of you, and a wrestling match ensued, one that ended with him under you. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then he deepened it, his hands sneaking up your thighs and around your head.Â
âYou look good in anything,â he whispered. âBut my favourite thing you ever wore was your wedding dress.â
When you pulled away from his lips you saw the starry-eyed smile and sincere look on his face, and you knew you made the right choice.Â
Luca was your everything. Carmen was nothing now, and he had to live with that.
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the bear masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)
#chef luca x reader#chef luca#the bear#will poulter#luca x reader#luca the bear#luca the bear x reader#carmy berzatto#the bear s3#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fx#the bear season 3
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thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please đ
summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)
pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader
contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+
Carmyâs office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. Youâre not sure how heâs keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, youâve never been able to completely understand his mind.
You know him better than anyone else, but heâs still such a mystery to you sometimes â like a language you can read perfectly but canât speak all the way.Â
You donât know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.
âBear?â you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. âYou ready?â
Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. âNo. Notâ Not yet, baby. Iâm fuckinââ Iâm drowning in this paperwork right now.â
He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch â leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.
The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.
Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious.Â
While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears â it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice.Â
His mouth falls agape to say words he canât make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light â which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.
âIt canât wait?â you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. âAll the restaurants are gonna close soon.âÂ
Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. Heâs far too busy â or, rather, he doesnât allow himself to be anything other than busy because thereâs a voice inside him that just wonât be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadnât bothered him so much until he met you.
âI gotta get this done, babe,â he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.
Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip â softly calloused against the satiny fabric.Â
You smile softly down at him. âSo I got all pretty for nothinâ?â you tease with a scrunched nose.
âWell, you got all pretty for me, actually,â Carmy corrects.
His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle.Â
âYeah, I did,â you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine â a maddening concoction.
You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. Itâs hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.
His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you canât make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood.Â
âYou know I donât care actually about going out, right?â you mumble there.
Carmy hums, half-distracted. âMhm.â
âJust wanna spend time with you⊠Donât care what weâre doingâŠâ
You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. âWell, Iâll make you the best damn PB&J Chicagoâs ever seen when we get back home, alright?â he muses with a quiet smile. âHowâs that sound?â
âIâm holding you to that, Bear,â you say, grinning into his curls.
âIâm countinâ on it.â Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work.Â
Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself â of the space youâre filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.
âIâm, uhâ Iâm gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe heâll let me bum a smoke or something.â
Carmy mourns your warmth the second youâre gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. âWhat happened to us spending time together?â
He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesnât spare you a single thought. But really, heâs so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.
You squint. âWatching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend Iâm not here is not spending time together,â you argue, laughing despite yourself.
âDonât go. Câmon,â Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. âCome sit,â he tells you.
âSit where?â you scoff.
âIn my lap.â
âIâll squish you,â you insist, giggling.
âShut up and sit down,â he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.
You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.
âNot like that,â he murmurs.
Your brows furrow in response. âWhat do you mean?â
âOn my thigh,â Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. âCâmon. Sit right.â
You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. âWhat are you playing at, Bear?â you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.
Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap â the proper way. âYouâre the one always sayinâ Iâm too busy for you, right?â he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.
The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. Youâre forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until itâs flush against your clothed cunt.Â
Your breath catches, and he smirks.
âSo⊠Youâre gonna cum on my thigh,â he continues casually. ââŠAnd after that, weâll go home, Iâll fuck you like you need, and then Iâll run you a bath⊠Howâs that sound?â
Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth â which you can feel pooling in your panties now. âWhat about the PB&J?â you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.
Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. âAfter the bath.â
âWhat about in the bath?â
âWhatever you want,â he assures with a smile. âYou just gotta ride me first.â
The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.
Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. Youâre obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.
You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans â catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once.Â
Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmyâs neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.
There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmyâs office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild.Â
And there was something about Carmy, too. The way heâs got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. Itâs pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.
Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if youâve left a stain on the denim. He prays youâve left a stain on the denim â wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.
âYou close?â he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.
You bury a whine in his neck. âFuck, Bearââ
âHey,â he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you.Â
His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted â already fucked-out, and he hasnât even touched you yet.
âI asked if you were close,â he repeats, unsmiling.
âYes,â you manage through a whimper.
His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. âGood,â he praises. âGood girl. Keep going.â
You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.
âCarmy,â you keen, voice wavering. âIâm gonna cum.â
You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear.Â
âDo it, then. Câmon,â he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure â not because heâs a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. âBe a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.â
You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.
âAtta girl,â Carmy praises. âKeep cumming for me.â
He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.
You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. âNo more,â you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.
When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. âYou good?â he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. Heâs always serious about checking in on you.
You nod and swallow hard. ââM good,â you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. âAre you good?â you parrot.
Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. âIâm almost done hereâ go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? Iâll out in a second.âÂ
He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss thatâs perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. âHowâs that for spending time together, huh?â he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.
âYouâre an idiot, Bear.â
#published by bug#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#the bear x reader#the bear imagine#the bear#carmy berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto imagine#the bear fanfiction#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmy berzatto fic#carmy x reader#carmy x you#the bear oneshots#carmy oneshot
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making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one



prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.
or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.
contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.
"Are you ok?"
Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.
It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up.Â
It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.
Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.
"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.
"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"
Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.
"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"
"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.
"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"
"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."
"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"
"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.
"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"
Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.
"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."
"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.
"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.
The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home.Â
Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him.Â
You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.
Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.
Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? Whatâre you doing home? Donât you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadnât felt with Carmen before.Â
Carmen didnât answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.
"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.
Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind.Â
"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"
"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.
"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"
â-You what? Y-You what?â Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively.Â
âI-I washed your tee, Carm, thatâs all that you left in the laundry basket-âÂ
"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum.Â
Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.
"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. âFuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckinâ kiddinâ me?âÂ
You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach.Â
"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. âCarmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.âÂ
âCalm down? You want me to fuckinâ calm down?â Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. âYou donât do shit, nothinâ that I fuckinâ ask for! Just sit around all fuckinâ day an-and Iâm supposed to calm down?âÂ
âCarmen,â Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. âI-You didnât ask me to wash them. I-I didnât know. They werenât in the hamper-âÂ
â-I shouldnât have to ask you to wash them!â Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. âYou know what Iâm going through! You know how much fuckinâ stress Iâm under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckinâ ass off so you donât have to! Then I come home, and I-I canât even get a second of peace!âÂ
âStop,â You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you now, feeling the full effect of them. âI-I just had a baby. Iâm still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and Iâm tired too. But Iâm not yelling at you-âÂ
â-Oh, right. Right.â Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. âBecause in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldnât stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? Youâre so busy.â Â
âWhat is wrong with you?â You snap, hoping he canât hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion.Â
âWhatâs wrong with me? Whatâs wrong with me?â Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. âI get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you canât do one simple fuckinâ thing? You canât help me out? And then you wanna know whatâs wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckinâ day-âÂ
Teddyâs piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddyâs cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you.Â
Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddyâs sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest.Â
âOh, donât go fuckinâ do it now!â Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. âIt wonât be ready in time now. Iâll just look like a fuckinâ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckinâ income!âÂ
You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddyâs spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sunâs rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you werenât sure how that was even possible.Â
Carmenâs furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmenâs tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought youâd be on the receiving end of one.Â
You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmenâs bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for.Â
Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddyâs voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing.Â
âWha-What are you doinâ?â Carmenâs voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat.Â
âHey, wha- what are you- whereâre you goinâ? Whatâre you doinâ?â Carmenâs heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth.Â
âBaby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-â Carmenâs chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. âWhe-Whereâre you-â
â-Donât touch me.â You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like heâd touched a hot stove. âDonât you dare fucking touch me.â You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear.Â
âBaby, hey, w-wait-Câmon, d-donât-You donât, you donât need to do this, ok? I-Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed.Â
âLet go.â You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt.Â
âPlease, donât-do-donât do this. Please, baby, I-Iâm sorry.â Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. âDonât-Donât do this-âÂ
â-I didnât do this.â You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. âDonât you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think Iâm going to stay?â Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in.Â
âNo, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, donât-âÂ
âYou donât get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.â You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. âI donât care if youâre stressed. I donât care whatâs going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because youâre stressed out- I donât care what it is. You donât talk to me like that, say those things when Iâve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.â You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted.Â
Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger.Â
âDonât-â Carmenâs chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door.Â
Your own hand curled around the doorâs inner handle, yanking it away from him. âMove,â You hissed, pulling again.Â
Carmen wasnât sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didnât stop you, why he didnât run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick.Â
He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That heâd wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber.Â
As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasnât a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that heâd made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddyâs cries, Natalie and Richieâs, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits.Â
He didnât move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didnât pull him from his trance.Â
âThe fuck is he- Cousin!â Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didnât move, didnât acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open.Â
âCousin? Carm? What-What are you doinâ? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakinâ the fuck out.â Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didnât move. Richieâs heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him.Â
âYo, Carm, you-you good?â Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. âCousin, hey, what-whatâs wrong?âÂ
Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richieâs voice over the noise in his head, Richieâs hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question.Â
âCarmen, whatâs wrong? Is it- Donât fuckinâ tell me itâs the baby. What the fuck is goinâ on-âÂ
â-She left.â Carmenâs voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasnât even sure he said it, Richieâs widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it.Â
âWhat? Who-Who left? Who?â Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasnât talking about you. No, he wouldnât- he couldnât. Not you.Â
Carmenâs breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didnât miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left.Â
Richieâs heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. âWhy? Wh-Why would she-â Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. âNo. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,â Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. âWhat did you do?âÂ
Carmenâs face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didnât know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmenâs eyes, realization and horror. Carmenâs shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldnât. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony.Â
The damning realization flooded over him, that youâd left.Â
Youâd left, youâd taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- youâd left because heâd driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- heâd been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him.Â
And heâd driven you away.Â
He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself.Â
Heâd fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete.Â
Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didnât know what to do. He couldnât avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldnât work, you werenât here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didnât know where you went.Â
Carmen wasnât sure where you went, how to fix this, why heâd done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that heâd do anything.Â
Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you.Â
He wasnât sure how, but heâd give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you.Â
#thebearer#bearblahs#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#dad!carmen berzatto#dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader#carmen berzatto angst#carmen berzatto x reader angst#dorothea âteddyâ berzatto#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#the bear fic#tina the bear#richie jerimovich#camren berzatto x female!reader#carmen berzatto x female!reader#carmen berzatto x pregnant reader#carmen berzatto x pregnant!reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x fem!reader angst#the bear angst#the bear fanfiction#the bear hulu#the bear fx#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#natalie berzatto#sugar berzatto
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it takes a while for carmy to warm up to the idea of positions besides missionary.
he just loves to see you. itâs intimate, and allows him to kiss you, hold your face, lick your neck. sure, maybe itâs a strain on his back sometimes, but he loves knowing that youâre all comfortable laying there, not needing to do anything but focus on the sensation of pleasure.
one night you decide to switch it up. you tell him, gently, that youâd love for him to hit it from behind. and carmy goes all red and blushing, stammering at the idea of taking you like that, of not being able to see your face.
âwhat if itâs uncomfortable?â heâll ask ân i canât see you, i wonât know.â
and you reassure him for being so silly. âiâll say something, obviously. donât be a baby âbout it, iâm a big girl.â
his hands shake when they finally clasp your hips, big palms rubbing nervously over the globes of your ass. your back is arched in a smooth slope, face pressed into the pillow, leaving you presented for him like a cat in heat.
now carmy understands. heâs able to get deeper than before in this position, drilling straight down into your sticky cunt, the gravity helping punctuate each of his harsh thrusts.
you moan and writhe beneath him, gasping between each breath that is punched from your lungs. âo-ooh, jesus, fuckââ you practically squeak. âso good, carmy. thank you, thank you.â
the way you appraise him is incessant, causing carmen to drive into you with a newfound burst of energy. one hand holds your hip in a bruising grip, the other finding leverage on the back of your neck, which prompts another drawn-out moan.
heâs more vocal in this position, too.
âyeah? like that?â
âyou needed this, huh?â
âsâokay, you can take it, just a bit more. âm gonna cum, okay? good fuckinâ girl, lettinâ me fill ya up.â
by the end of it, your ass is red and bruised. it usually doesnât get this bad because carmy canât find himself to be rough when heâs staring at your wet little eyes. he kisses it all better, promising to get some sort of cream for next time, a promise that makes you grin.
âthank you, baby.â youâll coo after heâs done fussing, pressing kisses into his cheek. âtrying new things is fun, right?â
and usually, carmen doesnât like admitting that heâs wrong, but this was worth it. his cheeks are hot as he dips his head down, evading your kisses to instead bite at your shoulder.
âyeah, yeah.â he grumbles. âdonât get a big head âbout it.â
#sorry guys!#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear
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The Cook and The Teacher!
Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.
Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!
Trigger warning: Mentions of the asshole Chef David Fields, some angst and anxiety attacks.
It was lateâtoo late.
Carmy barely registered the walk home, his body moving on autopilot, his mind still tangled in the chaos of the night. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, sharp and unforgiving, but he hardly noticed. The city around him murmured in the backgroundâstreetlights flickering, cars humming in the distance, the occasional shout from someone leaving a bar. But it all felt muted, distant, like he was hearing it through water. What lingered instead was the crushing weight of the night pressing against his ribs, a dull and relentless pressure that refused to let up.
Dinner service at The Bear had been a disaster. One of those nights where everything that could go wrong, did. The shipment. Late. So late that it threw off the whole prep schedule. Orders were late. Tickets stacked up like a goddamn mountain, looming over him, mocking him. Then, of course, one of the fryers broke mid-rush. The kitchen had been thick with tension, and every sharp movement edged with frustration. Richie and Sydney had gone at itâagainâvoices rising over the clatter of pans, cutting through the already fraying nerves of the staff.
And Carmy? He could feel himself unravelling. Patience thinning. Jaw tightening. His fingers curling into fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, but there was no outlet, no way to fix it. And then there was the heat. The noise. The pressure of it all, building and building, squeezing in on him until it felt like the walls were closing in, the suffocating knowledge that he should have done more, been better, made it work. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many hours he gave to The Bear, it was still just a ticking time bomb of mistakes waiting to happen.
By the time he peeled off his clothes, shoving them into a crumpled pile somewhere near the hamper, his body felt disconnected from his brain. Like his limbs werenât quite his ownâlike he was floating just outside of himself, watching everything happen from a few steps away.
His muscles ached, the deep kind of exhaustion that settled in his bones, making every movement feel heavier than it should. His head throbbed in dull, rhythmic pulses, the pressure lingering behind his eyes, threatening to split his skull in two. And his skinâChrist, his skin burned. Still clinging to the heat of the kitchen, to the suffocating weight of the night, to the stench of grease and smoke that no amount of showers ever seemed to fully wash away. It was embedded in him, stitched into his fibers.
And yet, still, he couldn't stop.
His feet carried him toward the kitchen before he even registered the movement, muscle memory taking over where his brain had given up. His fingers found the knob on the stove, twisting it with a practised flick until the flame flared to life, a small but immediate comfort.
A pan. Some oil.
Something simple. Something controllable.
He should be asleep. He knew that. His body screamed for it, his eyes burned from the strain of the day, his hands still bore the small nicks and cuts from rushed knife work. But sleep meant stopping. Stopping meant sitting in silence, letting the weight of the night press down on him again.
And if he let that happenâif he let himself sit in the quiet too longâhe knew what would come creeping in.
The doubts. The failures. The voice of the fucking asshole, even now, echoing in his head. Youâre too slow. Youâre too careless. Youâre not enough. You should fucking die.
He cracked the egg, let it hit the pan, and barely noticed the sizzle. His eyes werenât on the stovetop. They were somewhere else. Somewhere he couldnât claw his way out of.
His thoughts swirled, a chaotic loop that refused to quiet down. Back to the heat, the noise, the impossible weight pressing against his chest like a tightening vice. He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing hard against his eyes like he could physically wipe the memories away. Exhaled sharply. Tried to shake it off.
Too slow. Too much. Not enough.
His breath came a little too fast, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. Carmy barely noticed the first tendril of smoke curling through the air.
For a second, it didnât compute.
His eyes followed the lazy drift of grey, sluggish, delayed, like his brain was still playing catch-up. Thenâ Shit.
The oil. The heat. The flames licking up the edge of the pan. The DĂ©jĂ vu.
His body moved before his brain fully caught up. Fast. Sharp. Instinct taking over where exhaustion failed him. His hand shot out, killing the burner, while his other grabbed the lid, slamming it down over the flames before they had a chance to spread.
His pulse hammered in his ears. It was smallâcontrolledâjust a second of distraction. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the smothered pan, the burnt remnants inside. The acrid smell clung to him, to the walls, to everything. Embedded, like everything else.
Too much.
His feet moved before his brain could process it. He shoved open the door, barely feeling the cool brass of the handle beneath his fingers, stepping outside onto the hallway. The air hit him sharp, cold against his overheated skin. He inhaled deep, sucking in the crispness, trying to force his heartbeat to slow the fuck down.
Ground yourself. Breathe. Breathe.
But it wasnât working.
Because the moment he lifted his head, he saw you. You were standing in the hallway, just a few feet away. Still. Watching him.
And you knew.
It was written all over your face. The way your brows pulled together, the way your lips parted like you were about to say something but hadnât yet figured out how.
âCarmy, you okay?â Your voice was too softâtoo carefulâbut somehow, it still cut through him like a blade.
His breath hitched, his pulse still too fast, too erratic, his body caught between the past five minutes and right now. He should say something. Smooth this over. Make it disappear before it became a thing.
âWas nothinâ,â he muttered, shaking his head quickly. His voice came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. âJustâjust got distracted.â
But you didnât look convinced.
Your gaze dropped to his hands. The ones still trembling, even as he tried to disguise it, rubbing them against the fabric of his hoodie like that would erase the evidence. You stepped closer, slow, cautious, and it made his skin prickle.
âIt doesnât look fine. And thatâs not what I asked,â you murmured, your tone even. Not accusing. Not pushing. Just⊠knowing.
And fuck, why?
Why did you have to look at him like that? Why did it feel like you were peeling him open with just a look?
Like you could see whatever was wrong, the way it clung to him, the way it seeped into his bones, wrapped around his ribs like a vice.
Why the fuck did you care?
His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. His heart was still racing, his breath coming in short, shallow pulls, and the way you were looking at himâit made it worse. Annoyance flickered up, hot and sharp.
âWell, it is, alright,â he bit out, voice low, clipped.
You didnât flinch. Didnât step back.
Your eyes held him there. Concerned, not pitying. And for some reason, that made it worse. âWhatâs going on?â
Your voice was gentle, but he still felt like it pressed against something raw in him. He swallowed again, the motion tight, too quick. His shoulders tensed. Like a cornered animal.
âFucking nothin', alright?â His voice snappedânot loud, but sharp. A warning. âJust got fucking distracted.â
There was a bite to it. A finality. A 'donât push it'. But you didnât look away. He could feel his pulse in his throat, the weight of the night crashing down again.
âLeft something on the stove too long.â His fingers twitched, restless. âItâs fucking fine, justââ He gestured vaguely toward your apartment, his frustration turning in on itself. âJust go back to your house.â
He didnât mean for it to sound harsh. But it did.
Your expression barely flickered, but he saw the way your brows knitted together for a fraction of a second, the way you took in his words, measured them, and decided not to take the bait.
Carmy knew what he was doing. Knew the sharpness in his voice, the edge he was putting thereânot to hurt you, not really. Just to push you away, to create space where there was none, to stop you from seeing too much. From seeing him like this.
But you just stood there, calm, unwavering, like you had all the time in the world for him to burn himself out. You took another step closer, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving his face.
âOkay,â you said simply, shrugging. âFine.â
That threw him off. He expected pushback, expected you to demand answers or call him out. Instead, you just⊠accepted his words. His anger fizzled out slightly, like a match burning out too fast.
You shifted your weight, crossing your arms. âBut if itâs fine, then you wonât mind standing here for a second and breathing with me.â
His brows furrowed. âWhat?â
You gave him that look, the one that was patient but somehow immovable. âIâm not asking you to explain. Iâm not even asking you to talk. Just... breathe with me.â
Then, carefully, you reached outânot touching, not forcing, just holding a hand palm-up between you. Not a demand. A choice.
âJust once. If it doesnât help, Iâll go inside, and you can keep pretending youâre fine,â you said, your tone gentle but sure.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He hated this. Hated being seen like this. Hated the way you were giving him an out but also making it real fucking hard to take it.
His gaze flickered to your hand. Just sitting there, open, steady, waiting.
Like an idiot, he took it.
It wasnât much at first. His grip was tight, rigid. Like he was bracing for impact. But you didnât squeeze or try to pull him closer. You just held it. Let him be shaky. Let his fingers flex, then tighten, then relaxâlike an anchor, like something solid in the mess of his own mind.
Carmy clenched his jaw. He should tell you to go, to drop it, to justâleave him alone. But then you inhaled, slow and deep, through your nose. And for some fucking reason, he did it too.
Not perfectly. Not steady. But he tried.
âGood,â you murmured, nodding. âNow out.â
He exhaled, shakier than he wanted it to be, his fingers twitching again. You stayed quiet for a moment, watching him, letting the air settle between you.
You shifted slightly, tilting your head. âAgain.â
He hesitated but did as you said. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. One breath at a time.
Until the world wasnât pressing against his ribs like a vice. Until the knots in his stomach werenât so fucking tight. Until his handâstill in yoursâwasnât trembling anymore.
Finally, finally, his shoulders dropped a fraction, and you let out a small exhale, like there you are.
âSee? Now itâs fine,â you said, voice lighter, teasing but not pushing. âKnew I could get you to listen.â
Carmy let out a quiet, shaky huffâhalf a laugh, half an exhale. âDidnât say it helped.â
You smirked, tilting your head. âBut youâre not telling me to leave anymore.â
âGuess not.â
You let go of his handâeasing the connection rather than dropping it. Still, he can't help but flex it, missing the warmth, the feeling.
Carmy exhaled again, slower this time. His jaw was still tight, but the sharp edge of his frustration had dulled, faded into something closer to exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his temple. âI'm sorry, I didnât mean toââ
âI know,â you interrupted softly.
That threw him off balance more than before. You werenât asking for an explanation, werenât searching for answers, werenât waiting for him to fix himself before youâd stand there with him.
You just were. And for some reason, that made something in his chest pull tight.
Your smile softened, and you nudged his foot lightly with yours, the touch grounding, casualâlike you werenât standing there peeling back every layer of him without even trying. âYou donât have to say anything, Carmy. Just⊠let me be here, alright?â
Carmyâs chest rose and fell in a slow, measured breath. His fingers twitched, he wanted to reach you again but instead he let them fall, finally relaxing.
His gaze drifted over you thenâreally seeing you for the first time tonight.
The colourful oversized pajamas, a mismatched set that somehow made sense on you made you look impossibly comfortable. The messy bed head, strands sticking up in odd directions like youâd been in too much of a hurry to smooth them down. The thick glasses perched on your nose, slightly crooked, like youâd shoved them on without thinking.
And yet, none of it diminished you.
No, you were stillâGod, you were just so...
Soft in a way that didnât feel fragile. Kind in a way that didnât feel forced. For someone who shouldâve looked a little ridiculous standing in the dim hallway at nearly midnight, dressed like a walking fever dream, you were stillâ
Still just you. Still perfect.
Not in the unattainable, polished way that made people feel like they had to measure up. No, you were real. Warm. The kind of presence that pulled people in without trying. Like someone who didnât need him to be anything other than exactly what he was in this momentâmessy, frayed, a little burnt at the edges.
His throat worked as he swallowed, the words forming but never making it past his lips. Instead, he just nodded once, short and barely there. But you caught it, you always did.
You smiled a quiet understanding passing between you and tilted your head toward your apartment. âCome inside. Just for a bit.â
Carmy hesitated, shifting his weight like he was already halfway out the door. âNah, you really should go back to sleep. You, uhâyou got to teach tomorrow, right?â
You scoffed, shaking your head with an amused little huff. âPlease, I wasnât asleep. I was on my Kindle, making poor life choices about just one more chapter.â
That made him glance at you, brow twitching slightly upward. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you said, waving a hand. âI sleep late all the time. Bad habit. Iâm a terrible role model for my students. Preaching good sleep schedules by day, sabotaging my own by night. Not my proudest contradiction, but hey, I make it work.â
He pressed his lips together, unsure. Heâd already taken up too much of your time, already made too much of a mess of himself in front of you. But before he could find another excuse to disappear, you tilted your head toward your apartment, eyes glinting mischievously.
âTell you whatâIâll sweeten the deal." you said, "Come inside, and Iâll make you pancakes or something.â
His brows furrowed, but there was amusement flickering in his tired eyes. âYouâre bribing me with pancakes?â
âIâm persuading you with pancakes,â you corrected, crossing your arms. âBig difference. Oneâs morally questionable, the other is just good business.â
He exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head as he glanced past you toward your open door. The warmth of your apartment, the contrast of soft, golden light against the dim hallway, was enough to make him hesitate just a little longer.
You sighed dramatically, tipping your head back. âFine. I see how it is. You donât want pancakes. You donât want warmth. You donât want the chance to experience my culinary prowess, which, by the way, is heavily dependent on boxed mix and sheer confidence.â
Carmy exhaled another small laugh, âThat supposed to convince me?â
âI donât know,â you mused, tilting your head. âIs it working?â
He hesitated, then glanced at you, eyes flickering between your expression and the soft glow of your apartment.
He huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at you again. âYou even got syrup?â
You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. âHow dare you. Of course, I have syrup. And not just any syrup. The good syrup. The expensive kind that makes my pockets cry.â
He looked back at the open door, at the warmth, then at youâwaiting, expectant, patient.
ââŠAlright,â he muttered finally, turning off his light and closing his door . âJust for a bit.â
Your grin widened as you stepped aside. âGood call. I was prepared to escalate to full puppy-dog eyes if needed.â
Carmy hesitated in your doorway, eyes flicking between the warm glow of your apartment and the quiet comfort of your presence. The offer was simpleâpancakes, syrup, a brief reprieve from his own mind.
And for a second, just a second, it felt familiar.
Too familiar.
His chest tightened. He didnât mean to think about Mikey, but the memory crept in any wayâuninvited and unavoidable.
He wasnât sure when he noticed it, that pull you had. The way you could turn a moment weightless without even trying. It was something about the way you carried yourselfâunapologetically bright, effortlessly magnetic, like the room revolved around you but you never let it go to your head.
Mikey had been like that.
Carmy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter, watching you move around the kitchen, talking about some ridiculous pancake technique like it was revolutionary. Like this was normal. Like he wasnât just outside five minutes ago trying to claw his way out of his own head.
Mikey used to drag him into things, into late-night runs for shitty gas station snacks, into arguments about what actually made a perfect sandwich, into moments that felt like they meant nothing at the time but everything in hindsight
And now here you were, doing the same thing.
Pulling him out of his own head. Out of the spiral. Out of the weight of it all.
You didnât even realize it, did you?
Carmy never thought heâd meet someone else like that. Didnât think he deserved to.
But here you were.
Different, but the same in all the ways that mattered. You lit up a room without trying, turned things that shouldâve felt heavy into something bearable.
âAlright, Chef,â you teased, flicking a bit of flour off your fingers, breaking out of his thoughts. âYou wanna help, or are you just gonna sit there looking pretty?â
Carmy scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it.
âJesus Christ,â he muttered, but his hands were already reaching for the whisk.
Mikey wouldâve loved you.
A/N: Helloooooo. How is everyone!?? Okay first I want to thank you all for the support, for those likes, comments and shares â€ïž I still canât believe the love for this fic. Thank you so muchhh.
And second of all I hope you enjoyed this one, I am personally not sure about it. It feels like it needs that je ne sais quoi factor⊠hopefully I'll have a good one for Valentineâs Day đ«¶đ©·
Be safe out there 𫶠Tell me if you would like to get tagged.
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#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfiction#abbott elementary#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader smut#mikey berzatto#abbott elementary x reader#janine teagues#ava coleman#melissa schemmenti#barbara howard#gregory eddie
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carmy! i have a request, itâs so basic but everything you write is golden. him and r are pining coworkers, and maybe someone else yells at her or upsets her or whatever and heâs like but iâm the only one allowed to shout at you and he hugs her (because you know⊠arms đ)
âCarmy tries to make you feel better after a customer upsets you. fem, 1.5kÂ
âFucking asshole,â Richie mutters as the door swings closed.Â
Carmy would cringe if he had the energy, or a lack of self-awareness âitâs not as though he doesnât swear like a starved sailor every other sentence.Â
âWhoâs the asshole?â he asks, feeling down his side for the bump of a box of cigarettes he doesnât find.Â
Heâs taken to hiding them in the office. Heâd love to pretend it was an act of lent, but in actuality, he never told Ritchie that the box of cigarettes left near the burner, that gave them their C-army rating, wasnât Richieâs at all, but Carmyâs. He isnât ever planning on having that conversation, so heâs trying not to carry a box around and leave it somewhere stupid again.Â
âFuckingâ you didnât just hear that guy?â Richie asks, scowling.Â
Carmy scowls back. âYeah, thatâs why Iâm asking. What the fuck do you think?âÂ
Itâs slightly too much aggression off the cuff, but Richie brings it out of him. âSome asshole just came in here and started shouting like a motherfucker because he forgot his stupid napkins. I thought Sunshine was gonna cry her eyes out.âÂ
Carmy clocks back in fully. âWhat?âÂ
Sunshine is the mildly sarcastic nickname Richie gave you before Carmy ever step foot in The Beef. Itâs not that youâre moody, but youâre always tired, and you give these little shy smiles out to anyone who asks how you are. Iâm fine, you say every time, followed by something deflective like, Iâm just tired. Lack of vitamin D from working in this place.Â
âWhere do scumbags get off, making girls cry like that?âÂ
Carmy's eyes widen. âSheâs crying?âÂ
Richie is capable of seriousness, despite himself. âYeah,â he says, his anger swapped out for a low remorse, âI told her to go sit in the office until sheâs feeling better.âÂ
Carmy pauses. âShould I go look in?â he asks.Â
âDuh, Carmen. Youâre the only one who can make her feel better. Which I resent!â He brings a rag end from his shoulder to wipe his forehead, which is gross, but whatever. âIâm fucking excellent at being a shoulder to cry on.âÂ
Carmy doesnât know what that means. Richie says it like itâs obvious, but since when is Carmy the only person who can make you feel better? Youâve known everybody here far longer than youâve known him, and sometimes Carmy thinks you probably donât want a thing to do with him, does anybody in the kitchen? Youâre smart, and youâve been working here as long as anybody, started when you were genuinely too young and learning everything you know from the other. You have potential, like everybody here. You just didnât get the right training, and youâre defensive (again, like everybody here).Â
Carmyâs almost positive youâre gonna tell him to fuck off when he knocks the office door. He doesnât know why he does it, nobody knocks in this shithole, but he does. Maybe heâs buying time; youâll be feeling better when he pushes the door fully open, and he wonât have to navigate the treacherous depths of his feelings for you while heâs so busy trying to work himself out.
You sniff, muffled, like a sleeve is held over your face. âHello?â you ask.Â
Carmy gets a burst of energy and doesnât ask before stepping into the room. You canât say no if he doesnât ask, and you donât, looking at him from the rickety office chair with distrust, and then sheepishness.Â
âSorry, I shouldnât be in here.âÂ
âNo, no, you can come in here,â he says. He has a bad habit of pausing too long and looking too close, hands clenched in front of himself. âYou can come in here. Some asshole made you cry?âÂ
You shake your head with tears still wet on your cheek. Youâre at home in the office, all the chaos and posters and paper trails a match for you dishevelled appearance. Youâve pulled your foot onto the chair, showcasing a shoe thatâs falling apart and two pairs of socks pulled to uneven heights. Your hands are a riot, none of your jewellery but a mismatch of different coloured band-aids over a multitude of wounds. And your face glows with tears, shitty light of the desk lamp casting yellow onto your teary cheeks, your lips bitten raw.Â
âIâm fine,â you say.Â
Carmy doesnât know what he was expecting, but he was hoping for a better confession. âOver napkins?âÂ
âSaid Iâm sâposed to put napkins in the bag,â you say, a monotony to your voice thatâs forced and weak at once. ââCos Iâm a fucking idiot, right, who doesnât put napkins in the bag?â You sniffle. âWhatever. Richie said he canât come back.âÂ
âHe canât,â Carmy says quickly.Â
He fails to follow it up. Thereâs an idiot in the office, for sure, and itâs not you.Â
Your mouth crumples and you look away from him, something achy about you as another tear falls down your cheek to curve into the skin above your top lip, making a home at your cupidâs bow. âIâm fine.âÂ
âYou can be upset,â he says. âThis jobâs⊠hard enough, without people making you feel like shit for shit you didnât do.â
You respond to his warm(ish) tone with a small smile. Your tear slips down your lip. Carmy wants to wipe it off.Â
âWhat can I do?â he asks finally.
He wishes he could make you feel better without asking, and there are parts of him that want to turn tail and run, too, but Carmy stays standing in front of the half-open door watching as tears make their way to your chin. He doesnât know why youâre still crying.Â
Maybe he does. Carmy doesnât usually cry. He just watches things go wrong without stopping them, or keels over in the alley for long, too fast minutes as his heart pumps a bruising rhythm against his ribs.Â
âIâm fine, Carmy,â you say, wiping your face roughly as you stand from the chair. Â
He scratches a hand through his hair. âTell me what to do and Iâll do it.âÂ
âYou donât have to anything.âÂ
âRichie said Iâm the only person who can make you feel better.âÂ
âYouâre just the only guy who ever shouts at me,â you tease, sniffling softly as you do.Â
Carmy shouldnât yell at anyone, but he does. Youâve never cried. He wouldnât yell at anybody if he thought it would make them upset like that, itâs just that yellingâs like talking where he comes from, and the kitchen doesnât help.Â
âSo what? Am I supposed to beat that guy up?â Carmy asks.Â
You laugh through what he hopes to be the last of your tears, scrubbing at your cheeks ineffectually. âLike you could beat somebody up. Youâre all bark and no bite, Berzatto.âÂ
Sure. And heâs a loser, heâs more than aware of it; Carmy knows fifty seven different ways to prepare corn for eating and he doesnât know a single way to make girls feel better, so he tries something he saw on TV.Â
âCome here,â he says, holding his arm out insistently. âCâmere.âÂ
He leans in to grab you. You hold your arms out, but you still when he touches you like you're shocked. Heâs a little shocked too.Â
âRichie knew the guy, right?â Carmy asks.Â
âHe said heâs banned for life.âÂ
âOkay, great.â Carmy feels up your back slowly. Your arms are hesitant behind him. Heâs the braver one for once, feeling at the dips and slopes of you with a greedy hand.
You smell⊠really good. He has a good sense of smell, can pick apart a meal's ingredients by scent alone if heâs awake enough, so he can tell youâre wearing that little solid perfume you keep in your cubby, gentle enough to not bother anybody in the kitchen, ever so slightly milky and sweet. He can also smell the salt on your cheeks. So weird to be able to smell your tears.Â
Carmy pats your back and leans away. Your hands fall to your side.Â
He wipes your face hesitantly, pinky to your soft cheek, until your tear stains are dry and youâre looking at him steadily.
âThat was really weird,â you say.Â
He panics, stepping away from you, âFuck. Fuck, sorry.âÂ
You shake your head. âNo, Iâm just kidding. Thanks, Carmy.âÂ
âDick,â he says.Â
You smile brightly. Okay, his heart fell into his ass when you said it was weird, but you can tease him all day if it makes you feel better.Â
âI better go tell Richie Iâm okay,â you say. âDonât you have a stock to reduce?âÂ
âOh, you mean your stock?â he asks.Â
Your smile makes him wanna grab your wrist, and it makes him wanna chase after you. You slink out of the office, waving a quick goodbye with your fingers, and Carmy stares at the place youâd been sitting while you cried for a couple of seconds to get a grip. Â
He puts his hand on his chest and feels his pulse racing.Â
âFucking asshole,â he mutters, not sure if he means the customer or himself.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x y/n#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto drabble#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy x reader#carmy#carmy x you#carmy blurb#carmy drabble#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto drabble#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear fic
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Hi!! Can you please write something about Carmen x reader where they have a secret relationship?? They both work at The Bear and maybe get caught doing something sexy by Richie (lol) and then the rest of the staff finds out. These type of fics always make me laughđ€ Love your writing!!!đ€đ€đ€
My Friend From New York
The Bear Masterlist
My Directory
MDNI 18+ (Only a lil bit)
To some, The Orginal Beef of Chicagoland was a run-down dingey sandwich shop that may or may not have sold coke out of the kitchen when COVID wrecked the city. To Richie, it was his home. He and Mikey had been friends for almost four decades, and The Beef was their baby. When it came to The Beef, there was a layer of sentiment to every part of it. Even with its quirks, it was part of Richie, and after Mikey was gone- it felt like the only connection he still had to him. Of course, that mother fucker left his legacy to shithead little brother. Richie loved Carmy; heâd known the kid since he was in diapers- and now he was trying to change the sandwich shop into some bougie millennial hot spot. Richie tried playing nice; he tried explaining to Carmy that The Beef was fine before he took over, but Carmy convinced himself and the rest of the staff that they could become something bigger, that greatness was within reach, and everyone was running with it.Â
âHe needs to get laidâŠâ Richie muttered under his breath as he brought bags of flour to the dry storage shelving by Marcusâs station. Marcus chuckled as heâd overheard the comment. Richie wiped his hands on the apron tightly tied around his waist, âWhatâs he even tryinâ do⊠Mike and I ran a tight ship.âÂ
Marcus shrugged, âI like Carmy⊠Heâs challenging me- I loved Mikey⊠he was a good guy, but what Carmy wants to do is in honor, ya know?â
Richie shook his head, âHeâs fuckinâ with my system.â Marcus waved him off and returned to the notebooks and cookbooks sprawled across the stainless steel counter by his mixer. Richie scowled as he walked to the dining room, muttering complaints about Carmy to himself. âYo, everyone! Meeting in the dining room!â Carmyâs voice echoed through the kitchen as Richie stood by the host stand, scrolling through his Tinder messages. Richie slipped his phone back into his back pocket as the kitchen doors swung open before leaning against the wall, watching as people entered the room.Â
âOkay- thank you, everyone for being flexible and understanding. Carmy and I both understand that changing an operating system can feel overwhelming, but yâall are doinâ great.. Carmy.â Syd monologued before turning the figurative mic over to Carmy. Richie turned his attention to him but quickly went to the front door of The Bear, where a mystery woman entered the dining room. Before Richie could say anything about them being closed, Carmy piped up.
âYouâre earlyâŠâ he grinned. The woman shrugged and put a small suitcase on the floor before approaching Carmy and Syd. Richie chuckled when he saw Carmy causally give her a side hug, his hand lingering on her hip slightly longer than it should, âThis is Y/N. Sheâs one of my friends from New York⊠here to help out Marcus.â Carmy pointed Marcus out to her.Â
âFresh meatâŠâ you commented as your eyes ran up and down Marcus, âYouâll be a baker by the end of the month.âÂ
Richie stood back and listened to you explain your background before the meeting ended. He noticed how Angel was looking at you and how Carmy was glaring a hole in the side of his head. He looked between you and Carmy; there was no way Carmy could get a girl like you. He chuckled to himself and waited for the meeting to end before going to the alley to have a smoke before dinner service.Â
~
As the weeks passed, Richie noticed little things about you and Carmy. Nothing was explicitly sexual or romantic, but heâd known Carmy the kidâs entire life, and he knew how Carmy behaved when he was around a girl he had a crush on. He saw it when Carmy was in middle school when he always brought extra peanut butter pretzels for one of the girls in his English class. Then again, in high school, when heâd become even quieter when Claire and her friends were hanging out next door. Carmy wasnât a kid anymore, but Richie noticed the little things he was doing for you, the subtle touches, making sure your water bottle was never empty, the way heâd watch over the baking lessons youâd give Marcus when he had downtime, but the moment that solidified Richieâs suspicion was the day Angel finally made his move.Â
Richie returned to the kitchen after taking a phone call in the alley. Neither you nor Angel noticed his presence as he stood behind one of the storage racks. Angel was initially subtle, asking if you were into some punk band Richie had never heard of. When you said youâd seen them live before, Richie noticed Angelâs face light up. Then he offered you an âextraâ ticket he had to their upcoming show; he noticed the shallow swallow you took before awkwardly telling him you âwere seeinâ someoneâ. Angelâs face fell, but he nodded and playfully punched your arm before walking away. You laughed and walked into the office, leaving Richie to theorize. He wasnât sure how long heâd been standing there when Syd joined him, startled by Richieâs prowling. âGod- you scared me⊠why are you standing behind the shelves?â she asked as she reached for a large stock pot.Â
Richie shrugged, âYou know if Carmyâs âfriendâ from New York is seeinâ anyone?âÂ
Syd thought for a second, âUh, I think⊠sheâs stayinâ with Carmy, so if she is seeing anyone, itâs not serious.â
âWait, sheâs staying with Carmy⊠in his studio apartment?âÂ
Syd nodded, not realizing what Richie was implying by his questioning. Richie rolled his eyes, âI fuckinâ knew itâŠâ
Richieâs suspicions only grew stronger as the week continued. Itâs not every day Carmy comes into work with an extra pep in his step and a faint hickey by the collar of his t-shirt. That afternoon, he finally decided to ask Carmy about your relationship. After finishing his necessary prep work, he hung out in the kitchen and waited for Carmy to head to the alley to smoke.Â
âYo.â Carmy greeted when he noticed Richie join him, leaning against the wall. Richie nodded and pulled a cigarette from the beat-up box in his pocket.Â
âSo⊠that girlâŠâ Richie started. Carmy looked at Richie with an eyebrow raised as Richie continued. âYou tappinâ that?â
Carmy scoffed before ashing out his cigarette, âFuck off Richie.â Richie grimaced and watched Carmy walk back into the restaurant.Â
âHeâs tappinâ thatâŠâ Richie scoffed as he turned his attention to his phone.
~
âShit..â Richie grumbled as he stood at the register of the corner store by his apartment building, âYall do ApplePay?â the cashier looked at him with a bored, disheveled look before snarkily commenting about how they didnât accept bills over $20. Richie shook his head and left the pack of cigarettes and six-pack heâd been trying to buy on the counter before heading back to his car to look for his wallet. Richie realized his wallet wasn't there as he dug through his glove box and center console. âShitâŠâ he swore when he concluded he must have left it at work.
Richie moved to unlock the door to The Bearâs back kitchen door when he realized it was unlocked. âShitâŠâ he mumbled, assuming someone had broken in; heâd left his phone in the car and figured heâd just deal with all the drama tomorrow morning.Â
He expected to see pots and pans all over the counter and a broken safe in the office, but when Richie walked into the kitchen, his eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. You were sat atop the middle station with your top pulled down, exposing a bright red bra. Carmy stood between your legs with his pants undone, one of your hands hidden beneath his boxers. Richie tried to speak, but the sound of Carmyâs throaty moans made his ability to speak vanish. Your head fell back as you loudly moaned, âLouder baby⊠let everyone know who you belong toâŠâ as the words left Carmyâs mouth, Richie felt his body retch.Â
âYou arenât alone!â Richie yelled. You yelped in surprise and pushed Carmy away from you before yanking your top up. Richie closed his eyes and let his head fall to the floor. He heard Carmy clear his throat and the sound of a zipper pulling up. The three of you existed in an awkward silence for what felt like hours before Richie broke the silence, âSo⊠you are tappinâ thatâŠâÂ
âShut the fuck up, Richard.â
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto one shot#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#the bear fan fiction#the bear fan fic#the bear imagine#the bear one shot#the bear smut#the bear request#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fan fiction#carmen berzatto fan fic#carmy berzatto smut#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich imagine
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thinking about carmen berzatto having the fattest crush of his life on the new waitress/hostess at the bear. natalie and richard had interviewed you, raving about your experience and sweet nature, but carmen had only half-paid attention. on your first day, though, as richie was showing you the ropes, he spotted you through the kitchenâs window.
âwhoâs that?â he asked nat, knife frozen midâcut while he stared.
âthe new waitress, i told you about her last week,â nat sighed, annoyed at her brotherâs lack of attention until she catches that look in his eye. then, she just smiles.
he makes sydney swap work stations with him after that, so he doesnât get distracted every time you walk past the kitchen door. itâs bad enough that he canât focus on the dish heâs plating when he knows youâll be so close to him when he calls for hands. once did his hand shake when he passed a plate to you, nearly dropping it if it werenât for your reflexes. you had worn your hair differently that night, thatâs why, stealing his conscience for a moment.
richie, god dammit, had seen it happen. and he took every single opportunity for the rest of the night â no, week, to tease carmy for it. it only riled the chef up more than usual, forcing him deeper into his shyness and silence around you. whenever he did have to speak to you, he falls over his words and loses that strict composure the kitchen taught him.
because, hell, youâre so pretty and youâre so sweet to him and all of the customers. they always leave notes about you in their reviews, so even at home when heâs reading through them he canât escape you. youâre like an angel, he swears, and far too good for him. he wants you, needs you so close to him â so he can smell your perfume or brush your hand on purpose for once. but heâll be the ruin of you, this perfect thing, and he canât be the one to break you.
#đ ïč drabbles.#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto drabble#carmen berzatto x you#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#the bear imagine#the bear x reader
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