#carmy berzatto angst
Text
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
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
browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
"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 💙
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 naïve. 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
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Request: carmy/reader, jealousy
“you’re so mean to me.” (c. berzatto x reader)
You friend sees you at the Beef while you were helping out at the counter. Carmy feels insecure. (mean!carmy, angst to fluff, just :(, sydney is such a sweetheart, protect carmen at all cost, not sure if there are spoilers, unedited.) - ACCEPTING REQUESTS!
He comes to the Beef with authority and an air of confidence. Richie noticed that he had a designer shirt on, the monogram of some brand littered on it. The shoes on his feet could cover some expenses at the Beef. You were helping out at the counter that day. Carmy has been telling you how stressful the Beef had been since day one and you decided that on your days off, you’d go down to the shop and help. Carmy wished you didn’t come that day…not if he was there.
The first time you came, Carmy was bewildered. He was a blushing, babbling mess when his girlfriend came to help. “Ayo, Jeff, stop staring and give the girl a job!” Tina teased, making Carmy’s ears turn red.
“Alright, Chef,” he said, looking at you, finally breaking out of his trance. “Come to the office and I’ll…orient you,” he takes your hand and brings you to the back office before you could say hi to his coworkers. “Syd, cover for me!”
“Yes, chef!”
He locked the door behind him and kissed your head.
“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was soft, dripping with vanilla and honey.
“It’s my day-off and you’ve been telling me how much you needed another person at the counter and I decided to come down and help out. I’m sure Richie could help me,” you said. “But if you think that I might disrupt the system, I can leave and stay in the area! We can go on a date after your shift,”
Carmy could just melt. How were you so considerate and beautiful and kind to him? He was so sure that he didn’t deserve you. He was almost certain that you were too good for him. Too good for everyone.
“I promise, I won’t mind whatever you choose, Carm.” you said, smiling softly at him. You could see the gears in his head turning.
“No, no. I want you here,” said. “I want you here.”
“Okay. I’ll stay,” he hears, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll go to Richie and ask him to teach me the basics, okay?”
“Alright,” he said, pecking your lips “Just come to the office if you’re not feeling it, okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, leaving the space and leaving a lovesick Carmy in the office.
“Hey, guys! Sorry if I’m here on short notice. I’ll just keep out of your way and help Richie out, okay?” you asked. The kitchen hums and releases a series of “sure”, “okay”, and “thank you’s.”
“Chefs! I’ll take care of family today,” Carmy said a few moments later. He was watching you joke around with Richie. He was teaching you the basics and teaching you how to take orders.
The first time you helped out, Carmy was tense. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. Nothing to touch you but soon, once you were well-integrated in their system, the kitchen found themselves looking forward to every Wednesday when Carmy was calmer, less annoying, and less rude. It’s like you take out every bad thing in him.
-
Not today though. Not when Richie saw your eyes widen in recognition, an instantaneous sweet smile plastered on your face.
“Ayo, cousin!” he calls, while you almost literally jumped over the counter to talk to this guy.
“Lawrence!” you greeted, taking him in a hug. “How are you? Richie, this is my childhood friend, Lawrence. Lawrence, this is Richie,”
Richie could only give a grimace and a half-assed wave. Where the fuck was Carmy?
“Wait for a bit,” you asked. “Sit down, okay? Your sandwich is on the house.” You looked at Richie to ask if he could cover for a few minutes and he nodded. He shouts at the order in the kitchen.
“Who’s that asshole?” he asked, getting a glass of pop.
“My childhood friend,” you said. “We grew up in the same street together,”
“What does he do?”
“Finance…I think? It’s been a while since we last talked. I think last year?” you wondered. “I didn’t even know that he was still in Chicago because we saw each other in New York,”
“Carmy knows him?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t talk about him alot. I think Carmy only knows him as a childhood friend,” you said. “They’ve never met each other.”
Richie gives you the drink and the sandwich that Tina prepared. You uttered a thanks before walking to whereLawrence sat.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said, taking the sandwich from the tray.
“I didn’t know you still lived here,” you said. “The last time that I saw you was in New York. I thought you were a big finance guy?”
“Ah, I quit,” he shrugged. “Decided to start my own start-up here in Chicago. I had enough savings and well, you know,”
“Of course,” you nod. “I don’t work here. I just help out once a week because everything’s been so busy,”
“Hm,” he hums. “My employees have been raving about the sandwiches here since the new management took over. Decided to try it out and sure enough, you were there.”
“Fuck! Where the fuck were you?” Richie asked Carmy when he finally came through the back door. Some rich asshole has been wooing your girl in the seating area. Says he’s her childhood friend or some shit,”
“Who?” Carmen asked, removing his jacket.
“Your girlfriend took a break to talk to a customer, Jeff.” Tina said. Carmy frowned, walking briskly to you. The staff huddled, intrigued at how this could unfold. Carmy has never felt jealousy before. He’s never had to deal with girlfriends and their guy friends that definitely look at you too long. He’d never have to deal with Lawrence who was so obviously flirting with you. He’d never have to deal with you accepting it. The jealousy consumes him.
“Carmy! Come here,” you said when you finally noticed him. He’s been standing there for minutes while you listened to this guy drone on about how bored he was with his money. How you were probably meant to see each other again.
“Hey,” Carmy greets the guy in front of you. A chair scrapes loudly on the floor, reverberating in the whole restaurant. He sits down.
“Carmy’s the owner of this place,” you told Lawrence. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“He is?” Lawrence asked and Carmy could feel him sizing him up in his dirty white t-shirt. “I’m Lawrence. We grew up together,”
“Oh,” Carmy said. “Uh, babe, can I talk to you for a minute in the office?”
“Sure,” you said. “I have to go,” you told Lawrence, who stood up as well. His sandwich was half-eaten and it annoyed Carmy. Had he no respect to at least finish the food in front of the chef who made it? Asshole.
“No, it’s fine. I’m leaving too,” Lawrence said. “I have a meeting around here. I’ll see you?” he asked.
“Of course,” You removed your hand from Carmen to hug Lawrence and it fucking hurt. Lawrence kisses the side of your head before sparing a glance to Carmy. What an asshole.
“What was it, Carm?” you asked, smiling. You were almost forgiven because of how sweet you looked but Carmy have always felt things too intensely. He couldn’t stop what came from his mouth and it was too late. Too fucking late and the damage has been done.
“Go home,” he said, coldly. Your face fell and Carmen wanted to take it back. He felt you recoil yourself away from him, as if he’s hurt you. As if he burned you.
“Bear?” you asked softly.
“Go home,” he repeated. You frowned, grief-stricken but you nodded.
“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll…I’ll just get my stuff from the locker,”
Carmy looks away from you and you clear your throat. Walking away from him, you saw the staff pretend like they weren’t listening.
“Hey, guys. I’m going…going home,” you said, trying to stabilize your wavering voice. Tears were threatening to spill but you blink them away. “I don’t feel well, and I realized I have this…thing to attend to.” you lied.
“Of course, sweets,” Tina says. “Get home safely, okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ll let you know once I’m home.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sydney says, glaring at Carmen.
“No, it’s— “
“It’s just a few blocks away. I’ll take you.” she says, and you nodded, walking to the locker room with her.
“Sorry for being such a bother,” you said while you waited for her to change into her outside shoes.
“You’re not,” she reassured. “Let’s go?”
-
“I didn’t know what I did wrong,” you said, walking away from The Beef. “I was just so excited to see my friend. We grew up together, you know? In the same street. Went to the same school and we haven’t seen each other in a year. I didn’t know what I did for Carmy to be so mean.”
“It’s okay,” Syd says, not wanting to get in the middle. “Just explain things to him, okay? You’re the only person he listens to.”
“I guess,” you nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I just…he’s never been that way to me before. It feels new and I don’t like it,”
Syd, who’s been on the receiving end of Carmy Berzatto’s anger, wanted to protect you from him but it wasn’t her place. She wanted so badly to tell you to let him cool off.
The remaining walk back to your apartment was quiet. You both didn’t know what to say, where to start.
“Do you want to come in?” you asked Sydney. “Refresh a bit?”
“No, I’m fine. I might be needed at the restaurant,” Syd says. You nod, going in for a goodbye hug with your friend. “I’ll see you?”
“Yeah. Thanks for walking me home. Stay safe, okay?”
-
The kitchen hated Carmy that day. He was ruder, more annoying, more…insufferable. Tina said that he handled the situation wrong, Eibrahim and the others, except for Richie agreed. So, when Sydney comes back, the first thing she say was, “What the fuck, Carmen?”
“Stay out of it, Sydney,” Richie warns but Sydney did not give a fuck. Seeing her friend so defeated, so sad stirred something in her. Maybe she was biased because she actually liked you
“She was crying all the way from here,” she said. Carmy felt like he was going to throw up. “Grow up, Carmy. Just because you can’t handle that she has other friends, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on her.”
“Fuck off, Sydney.”
Sydney stands, taken aback. She was just trying to help.
“Fine,” she says, blinking. “But if you come to an empty home, don’t take it out on us.”
-
Sydney’s warning rang in his ears as he drove home. He was anxious but his anger superseded every emotion that he was feeling. That was why, when he opened the door, he immediately looked for you.
“Who was that?” he demanded. Anxiety and anger had such a bad mix and he knew it. He couldn’t stop. That friend of yours made him feel so insecure.
“Carmen,” you sighed. “He’s my friend. Lawrence. I told you about him before,”
“Carmen?” he chuckled. He’s just Carmen now? “I don’t like him.”
“Why?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s nice. I was actually so excited for the two of you to meet until you ruined it. He’s my friend that I haven’t seen in over a year, Carmy. Wasn’t it a natural reaction to be excited?”
“What? You’re telling me that I ruined your little date in my restaurant?” he asked, voice raising. “That’s nice. Sorry for bothering you,”
“We weren’t even doing anything wrong!” you said, walking away. You didn’t want this—you just wanted to talk about things without screaming.
“Hey! Get back here, I’m talking to you!”
“Talk about what, Carmen?” you asked. “You’re not listening to me. Okay? What is there to talk about?”
“You let him all over you like that! Took a break just to spend time with him,” he sneered. “And-and he looked at you like you were his. You let him kiss you. You let him do things to you and you just fucking accepted it.”
“What?” you asked. “Lawrence and I grew up like that There’s nothing wrong with it,” you tried. You were probably being too defensive, not letting Carmy explain his side but you were hurt when he dismissed you just like that. When he let you go without a kiss. He just looked away when you were pleading with him.
“So, you’d rather defend your old fucking friend instead of trying to fix this bullshit,” Carmen spits. “Heard,”
“What?” your heart dropped. “Bullshit?” The first tear falls like it was rehearsed. It broke your heart to hear Carmy call you relationship bullshit when you’ve spent the best days of your life with him. When you helped him through the nightmares…when he took care of you. “Bullshit, huh, Carmen?”
You couldn’t form a string of coherent sentences. Your mouth was agape, trying to process what he just said. Fix this bullshit. Fix this bullshit. You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from crying.
Bullshit. It was when you stayed up late to make sure that he slept peacefully, threading your fingers in his golden hair so he could feel your presence. Bullshit. It was when you picked him up from some bar downtown because he decided to drink with Richie. Bullshit. It was when you sacrificed your days-off just so you could spend more time together. Bullshit. It was when he showed up on your first date with flowers that you pressed in between the pages of your favorite book. Bullshit. It was when Carmen told you that he loved you because you made him a burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit. It was ringing in your ear, breaking your heart in a million pieces.
“Fuck, baby,” Carmen takes it back when you moved to walk towards the door. “I’m sorry— “
“Is that all it was to you?” you asked. “Bullshit? Is that why you dismissed me so coldly earlier? Because it’s bullshit?” Tears are on your face now and you wipe them away. “It’s bullshit, huh?”
“Baby…”
“Don’t,” you said. “Fuck, you’re so…so mean,” you said, crouching on the floor to shield yourself away from him. “I…I don’t know what I did wrong,” you whispered. “And I’m sorry if my actions hurt you but that’s how I grew up with Lawrence. I didn’t know that I was hurting you but, fuck,” you sobbed. “You’re so mean to me, Bear.” You didn’t mean it as an endearment, and he knew that.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, crouching down to your level. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, taking you in his arms. You didn’t want to fight back. “I’m sorry for-for doing that. For projecting my insecurities on you. I just…he has life figured out and I could never give you what he could give. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry,”
“I don’t want him,” you sniffled. “I’m with you, you know? Please…please, don’t call it bullshit. Because it’s not…for me, at least.”
“It’s not bullshit. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry for saying that. I’m so sorry,” he rambles sincerely. “You’re the best person that I’ve met. I love you. I love you so much that the thought of anyone else loving you drives me mad. I’m sorry,”
“You were mean to me,”
“I was, baby. I was,” he said. “I promise to stop myself from being mean. I’m so sorry. I don’t-don’t want to lose you. Please-please don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave.”
“I’m not going to leave you, Carmen.” you cooed, and you felt his arms tighten around you.
“Not that name, please. I’m just so fucking sorry for saying that and making you feel bad. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” you said. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more considerate. I love you so much, Bear.”
“It’s my fault. All my fault,”
“It’s not.”
“Can we-can we go to bed?” he asked, pulling away from you. You nodded. That night, when you were half-asleep, you felt his calloused hand caress your cheek. You’d never tell him, but you heard him. Loud and clear.
“I love you,” he whispers. “You don’t know how much I love you and I’m sorry. I love you.”
A/N: No Carmen Berzatto taglist yet! Also, if you’re waiting for the Tommy Shelby fic, you might have a to wait a week more before I release it. I want to release a chapter every week and I haven’t written the second chapter for this week yet. Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments and reblogs :)
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto#fanfiction#angst#fluff#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto angst#carment berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto angst#the bear fx#ask
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SARDINES — CARMEN BERZATTO
summary Carmen seems a little off when you visit him, and you try to figure out why. For once, you pry him open.
length 3.2k
contents angst, hurt/comfort, he's really an angel even if he's closed off n stubborn, very very emotional, lots of negative self-talk from Carm, he cares so so much, relationship talk, everything resolves in the end dw <3
It takes more than a few knocks for Carmen to open the door. If you counted correctly, it took six tries, plus a phone call. So you shouldn’t be surprised that when he finally does open the door, he barely gives you a kiss on the cheek and mumbles Hey before turning his back to you again, back in the kitchen with his phone face up on the counter. He’s antsy, almost talking to himself, checking his phone every five seconds.
You walk in and lock the door behind you as you take off your shoes, and you drop your bag on the coffee table, which houses little else other than a remote and a day-old mug with coffee staining a ring in the bottom. “…Everything okay?”
He leans into the counter with his weight on his hands and spares you a glance and a haphazard nod. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine—just waitin’ for my guy to call back.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Sitting down on the couch, part of you expects him to join you without being asked. Your back and feet ache, and all you want is for Carmen to lay with you, ease his hands up and down your spine, and watch the first thirty minutes of a random film before falling asleep.
“No, no—he usually answers when I need ‘im.” But he’s working. He’s at home, and you’re waiting on him, but he’s working. He seems to be prioritizing that a lot lately—a lot more than usual, at least. Running a hand through his hair, he watches the screen again, and mutters to himself, “Thirty fuckin’ minutes. Fuck you.”
You peek over the back of the couch. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You sound upset.”
“Yeah, baby, I’m—fuck this—” He derails from answering and instead picks up the phone again, calling and letting the dial tone ring out the second time this hour. He waits with his hand on his hip and his lip tugged between teeth.
You know ‘his guy’ doesn’t pick up when he drops his phone on the counter again with a sigh and another muffled profanity. “Carm?”
His head rests between his hands, but he lifts it to look at you. “Yeah?”
“Can you come sit with me, please?”
God, how you tug on his heart strings when you ask, your voice all sweet and dripping honey, you make it impossible to resist. “‘F course, yeah,” he answers, pocketing his phone and turning off the kitchen light before joining you.
He loops an arm over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your temple, and his heart skips a beat or two when you snuggle into him with your hand splayed against his chest. The two of you stare off at nothing in particular, soaking in the touch of the other. You smell so distinctly like you—like home—he’d be getting lightheaded in the best way if he weren’t so…so caught up in everything you help him escape: work, the fringe family, being so dead tired that in his mind he can’t tell where his kitchen ends and the fire begins. But that phone call he’s waiting on. It’s poking needles in the nape of his neck.
You sit up after a couple minutes, keeping a hand planted over his heart when you look at him. “I can literally feel how anxious you are.” He scoffs, but before he can protest you add, “Seriously, Carm, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s—everything’s just…” He looks off into nowhere behind you, his free hand making circles in the air like the words will fall into his palm if he tries hard enough. He stumbles for a few moments until he looks you in the eye again, a bit pained when he tells you, “Everything’s fine, baby.” The arm that was hooked over your shoulder is now curled around your waist, and his fingers, rough and scarred, trace meaningless shapes into your back, teasing beneath the hem of your top. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout it, alright?”
You’re unconvinced. You shuffle your hips around to straddle his, placing your hands on his shoulders with your thumbs carefully massaging the sides of his neck. Like clockwork, his hands take purchase of your waist, and he brings one to slide down over the curve of your ass before smoothing circles into your thigh. He always seems to speak to you in this way—maybe about as much as he tells you he loves you through his food—the physical connection much easier to manage than trying to crack open the rock-hard shell in his chest.
You lean into him a little more, your back arching ever so slightly. “You know I want you to keep me in the loop. What’s the guy for now?”
He sighs. “It’s just—shit with the stoves ‘n it’s messin everyone up, the kitchen’s basically a fire hazard, ‘n I really need him to answer his damn phone before something…” He shrugs. “…Before something just, I dunno, blows up, I guess.”
“Well, nobody’s even in that kitchen right now, so no explosions just yet.” You eye him for a moment, biting at your lip in contemplation when he doesn’t smile quite like he usually does at your drier jokes. “Is there something else bothering you?”
His brows furrow. “No, no—why, why’re you askin’ it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like, like…” He shakes his head as if it pains him to consider it. “Like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, or, or somethin’ I’m hidin’—”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Carm, c’mon.” Your voice goes softer, hands a little gentler as you cradle his jaw in your palms. “I just want you to let me in.”
He takes a deep breath through his nose. “You’re always sayin’ stuff like that,” he mumbles, and you can feel the vibration of his voice through your hands through to your heart.
“Because I mean it.” The AC whirrs nearby, almost muffling your words. “I want you to tell me about the things that bother you. I would never judge you.”
You’re so tender with Carmen, he thinks he could melt into a puddle on the floor, left to seep into the floorboards and through the ceiling of his downstairs neighbor. And he feels the words bubbling to the surface, the emotion pooling, red-hot behind his eyes, an answer burning at the back of his throat and clawing through his chest rough enough that the kisses you scatter from his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck do little to aid his wounds. But when he answers you, it’s tame. “I do tell you about things.”
“You do, but…” You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the space between it and his shoulder. “I’m just thinking about this game I used to play when I was a kid, sardines.”
His head tilts back against the back of the couch, and your breath dances along his skin while his hands smooth along the bumps of your spine. “Sardines?”
“Mhm,” you hum, “It’s kinda like…hide and go seek, but reversed. One of us would hide, and when someone found us, they’d squeeze into that spot too. And I remember being terrible at it, because we’d be making faces at one another in our little hiding spot, and I could never stop giggling, and I’d just expose everyone too soon.”
He chuckles quietly to himself. “I can picture that, you laughin’ while shoved in a closet.” His fingertips trace your shoulder blades.
“Pretty much how it went. Always too loud.”
“But I like hearing you laugh. I—I always feel better…gettin’ to see you all happy.” He’s thinking he got a little too caught up in the moment, and before you can say anything back, he asks, “What were you thinkin’ about the game, then?”
“It’s a little stupid to say it out loud,” you start.
“‘S not stupid, promise.”
You pause, hesitant. “…Okay.” One quick kiss to his neck before you continue, eyes closed to sink into him, “I just like to think that, eventually, you’ll let me in like…like it’s a game of sardines, or something. That I’ll just…squeeze in right beside you, and—and you’ll let me be there for you without pushing me away.”
He hums, low and drawn out to give you a beat to breathe.
“Sometimes I just want you to tell me what it is that’s bothering you, just to…make it easier on you a little bit, knowing someone’s in your corner. Just to be there.” Your fingers twirl into his messy curls and scratch at the nape of his neck the way he likes, and his silence drags on long enough to make you anxious.
But Carmen, too, is anxious. His chest is tight, his hands fidgety, and he’s sure—he knows, he feels it in his gut—that he needs to say something, anything. But he can’t find the words. They swirl in the back of his mind, and he can taste them crawling to the tip of his tongue, but they never become clear. They lurk where he can’t see them, and he keeps his thoughts on lockdown for you, because he’s been convinced along the way somehow in his decades of living that it’s easier, for him, if he keeps the softer parts stowed away, never to be seen again. He’s starting to think you’re trouble, that you make him softer where he grew to be tough. So it’s muffled and covered by his palms smoothing up your waist when he asks, “Sit up for me a bit, baby?”
And you listen, of course, because really you’re thankful he didn’t kick you out by now. Your vision is blurry from tears pooling in your eyes, but his hands—so, so gentle, the touch barely there like he thinks you could break—cup your jaw and urge you a little closer, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and wiping away stray tears. The two of you gravitate closer until your noses brush by one another and you exchange breath, until he leans into you and slots his lips against yours. He’s hesitant and careful, he doesn’t know if it’s quite the right thing to do or if it’s says what he needs it to, but when you prop your hands against his chest and kiss him back he knows part of you needs it like he does.
Both of you need it—that silent exchange, emotions spilled between sweet kisses and kind hands. So you stay that way, with Carmen’s hands holding you close to keep you from running away, and yours answer back I’m here, until he pulls away, eyes closed, to rest his forehead against yours.
He keeps himself blind when he whispers, “I know…” You can tell he’s mulling over his thought, so you wait for him to add, “I—I know, that you’re in my corner. An’ I want you there, alright?”
You try to soak in the feeling, so close and seemingly getting closer, a little breathless from his kisses as much as his words. “Alright.”
“I just—I just get so, so stuck in my head that I…” He swallows. “I can’t tell half the time if there’s anything even worth sayin’, I’m just spaced out ‘n…going fuckin’ crazy.” His brows furrow against yours. “I’m not used to stuff like this.”
“I know.”
His hands rest along the curve of your face a little firmer when he suggests, “But I can try—to, to, uh, tell you things, to let you in, or, or however you put it—I—” A deep breath. “I’m so fuckin’ bad at this, I’ve never done this, but—but I’ll try, for you, alright? You tell me, an’ I’ll try for you.”
You nod against him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “I just—it’s just—I like this, y’know? Being with you, I like what we have, I—I like doing this, and—I wanna…I wanna make you happy. The same way you do for me…” He goes quiet and shakes his head a little, anticipating his next words. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”
You can’t fight the smile that pulls at your lips, even if it is bittersweet. “You aren’t gonna fuck it up, okay? Being with you already makes me happy. I know you’re trying.”
“But trying isn’t…it’s not always enough, an’ I know in some ways—in a lotta ways, probably, I’m not…I—I’m not the best at saying things, an’—shit, am I—am I saying too much—?”
“No, Carm, no. I want you to keep talking.” You take his lips in another gentle kiss, your stomach whirring warm and content.
“I don’t really know what to say, or—”
“It’s okay,” you coo. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…if there was something else bothering you earlier…you can tell me.” You pull back a little to really look at him, running your fingers through his curls and making him gently close his eyes. “And I’ll just say okay, and then we can move on. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”
He hums with his eyes still closed, his mouth in a smirk. “Mm, like sardines.” It’s a little snarky when he says it, but when his thumbs brush beneath your top, you know he’s just thinking over his options.
“Yes, like sardines.” You’re a little embarrassed, but also a little thankful that he followed the bit.
He waits for a few moments, just breathing, letting you smooth your hands through his hair and over his shoulders and down his chest. It’s calming, he realizes—simply existing in the same space, careful touches and brief kisses. He runs his palms from the back of your waistband to the plane between your shoulder blades and presses gently, urging you to lean against him once again. When your head rests against his chest, he takes in a deep breath through the nose and out the mouth. He watches the ceiling.
“There’s…” Another pause. “It’s not just the stove that’s botherin’ me.”
You don’t answer him, not even a hum to acknowledge he’s said anything, and he realizes that you were serious about the whole ‘not saying anything’ bit.
“I…fuck, I don’t even know how to say any ‘f this. I think…I think I’m just freakin’ out about…about everything. The restaurant…you…” There’s a long, heavy pause, a shaky breath. “An’—an’ that’s it, really, besides family I guess—which is really fuckin’ pathetic when I say it out loud.” A sniffle. “Real pathetic. But all I’ve had is fuckin’…fuckin’ cooking, an’ working, an’ dealin’ with my family ‘n fuckin’ Richie all my life—” His chest gets, tight, a hand leaves your back to run over his mouth. “God, an’ I am so fucked up,” he laughs.
You were already crying before, and the tears keep coming, streaming from your eyes to your cheeks and staining Carmen’s shirt. You’re not sure whether he even realizes.
“I’m fucked up, and you’re just—you’re so perfect, compared t’me, ‘cause you’re all smart, an’ you always know the right thing to say ‘n how to say it, an’ you’re just in a completely different world sometimes, an’ I want in—I wanna be able to do things for you, all of it, but—” He needs to catch his breath. He needs water. He needs sleep. His throat is sore and scratchy, he feels his pulse pounding in his forehead. “I’m just…scared…that—that I could fuck you up, too.”
His chest expands beneath you, and you’re shaking, biting at your lips to stifle sobs. Part of you wants to sit up and hold him close, tell him that he’s the perfect one and you’re anything but, that all he’s ever been is made for you, that maybe he is fucked up, but you don’t care because you love him all the same—you love him.
Carmen isn’t used to this reaction. He’s used to explosions, yelling, screaming, pointing fingers with hot tears, saying what he shouldn’t, saying what hurts, guilt smacking him across the face for years to come. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels your trembling and holds you that much gentler.
“Baby,” he starts, “Hey, lemme see you, you’re shaking—” He tries to peel you from his torso, prodding at your sides until you wipe at your eyes and sit yourself up. His hands reach to hold your wet face. “What—what’s wrong?”
You push his arms away. “Sardines, Carm.” You try to stay true to your word—that you’d take what he says, and only store it away—but you’d be lying if you said you’re not struggling to keep more tears at bay.
“I want you to talk to me. You said you’d talk if I wanted you to, I—I need you to talk to me, c’mon, please—”
“This is so wrong—I’m the one who should be comforting you—”
“Hey, hey hey hey—” He smooths a hand over your hair and presses kisses to the tear stains on your cheeks. “That doesn’t matter to me. That doesn’t matter to me, alright?” He holds you steady, waits for you to meet his eyes, and when you look at him, it’s like he can see right through you. His thumbs brush away your tears, and your breathing settles.
You sigh, your hands moving from his chest to his shoulders. “We’re such a mess.”
Carmen shakes his head, mind full of you as his eyes trail the contours of your face, the plush of your lips when your teeth bite at them. “Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else.” His hands touch your waist again and ease you into him, buzzing with your soft curves in his grasp. It’s more than therapeutic, he thinks. Life-sustaining might be more accurate.
You nod, and your fingertips graze along his cheekbones before you plant a soft, yearning kiss to his mouth.
He kisses you again because he can’t help himself, and he might be too scared to look you in the eye when he says it, but eyes closed or not, he means it. “You’re so good to me.” His arms wrap around you again, addicted to feeling your weight beneath his skin, and he presses his lips to your jaw. “So fuckin’ good to me,” he repeats, lower than a whisper like it slipped by without thinking.
You card your hands through his hair, messily beautiful, and answer, “You deserve someone good,” just as quiet as he is.
He swears his heart stops, and his lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “You’re too good to me,” he says again, with a bit more honesty in the change. He knows you, so he already knows what you’re going to say, and that any other time he’d deny it.
You hum, a warm smile curling the corners of your mouth as you pull him closer to your chest, grazing your lips by his hairline for a gentle kiss. “No such thing.”
And for the first time, with his arms wrapped tight around your waist with a gentleness reserved only for you, and with your body slotted against his, he really starts to believe it.
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto imagines#the bear#the bear x reader#the bear fx#the bear season 2#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto angst#carmy berzatto angst
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Girlfriend Treatment
Inspired by this blurb
This is a really fun multiverse to write for, maybe expect more...
MDNI 18+
“Carmen, you’re not my boyfriend. We’re not exclusive. I’m gonna fuck who I want. When I want. How I want. Leave.”
You’d slammed the door in Carmy’s face, leaving him dumbfounded. The words echoed in his head as he stared at the door. He scoffed and shook his head as disappointment and shock washed over him. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
Carmy brought it to his lips and quickly lit it before turning on his heel and exiting your apartment building. As he entered the crisp spring night, he could only hear your remark about him not being your boyfriend and how you could do whatever you wanted. Carmy recognized your point. He wasn’t your boyfriend, but fuck, he wanted to be.
As Carmy lay in bed that night, he thought about you. The smell of your perfume lingered in his sheets; he closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent. He could never remember the name of it, but the lingering almond vanilla musk made his heart yearn. “Fuck.” Carmy chuckled; he knew what he had to do.
“Can’t come over. Work.” You read Carmy’s text aloud to your friend Cecilia. “I sent him pictures, and he didn’t respond for like six hours. I don’t get it.” You groaned, throwing your phone on the couch next to you. Cecilia laughed, “You two are so dumb. He’s clearly into you, but you’re trying to convince yourself that you aren’t into him.” “I’m not into him like that- he’s a good fuck, that’s it.” Cecilia rolled her eyes and playfully slapped your thigh. “You like him, dude. It’s okay, it isn’t a big deal. You can’t have sex with someone for months and not develop at least minor feelings for them.”
Carmy got out of the shower and noticed a new message from you. He groaned as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been trying to push you out of his head, but he melted when his phone displayed you sprawled on your bed in his favorite lacy underwear and a message about being lonely. You were pleased with yourself when he’d responded almost immediately. When a picture came through of him standing in his bathroom with a towel loosely hung around his hips, chest, and chain glistening with leftover water, it made your stomach flutter.
When Carmy showed up at your place that night, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d been at your door. While he enjoyed the casualness of the relationship, he didn’t want anyone else and sure as hell didn’t want anyone else having you. He didn’t even have to knock. You opened the door and pulled him through the doorway. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss. Carmy smirked into the kiss. He closed the door with one hand, and the other was under your shirt. Your skin tingled as his fingers pressed against your spine to bring you closer, deepening the kiss.
“On your knees.” Carmy groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “You wanna be in charge tonight?” you sweetly asked, looking up at him to see his eyes darkened with lust. “On your knees. I don’t want to repeat myself.” Carmy commanded as he pressed a final kiss to your throat. You nodded and sank to your knees. Carmy sighed as you fumbled with the button and fly of his jeans. He watched you pull them down to release his growing erection. You took him in your hand and spit before slowly stroking up the length of Carmy’s cock. You stared up at Carmy as you ran your tongue up the underside of him before taking the tip into your mouth. As you swirled your tongue around it, you felt Carmy’s hand grasp the back of your head. “Come on, princess, you know what I want you to do.”
As Carmy’s orgasm approached, he pulled out of your mouth, a string of salvia connecting your lips to him. “Keep your mouth open.” Carmy moaned as he stroked himself. You giggled and stuck your tongue out for him; his strokes got sloppier as he got closer. “Fuck.” Carmy cursed as he came across your face. He watched as you brought a finger to your cheek to collect the semen and bring it to your mouth, “So fuckin’ hot, baby.”
“Yea?” you asked, batting your lashes in his direction. You rose to your feet to take him back to your bedroom. You were a few steps ahead before noticing Carmy wasn’t following you, “What ya waitin’ for, Berzatto?” Carmy was buttoning his jeans, “Gotta go. I have plans.”
You stood there dumbfounded. “What do you mean you have plans?” Carmy shrugged in response before explaining he was going to a bar with a girl he’d matched with on Hinge. “You’re on Hinge? Since when?” you laughed, trying to save face. Carmy nodded, “We’re not exclusive.” “No,” you shook your head, “you don’t get to just come here for head and leave.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Sorry? Call you later.” Carmy shrugged before walking out of your apartment. “What the actual fuck?” you asked yourself as you stood there expecting Carmy to come back inside to say he was just messing with you.
Carmy was awoken by pounding on the door; he snapped up and looked over the backside of the couch. His apartment was dark aside from the warm light coming from the TV. He got up and pushed a hand through his hair before going to the door. When he saw it was you, he knew his plan had worked. “Okay. What the fuck is going on with you?” you asked, pushing past him into the apartment. Carmy laughed to himself and closed the door before turning his attention to you, “I wanna be your boyfriend.”
You looked at him as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood proudly by the front door, “What?” you questioned. “I wanna be your boyfriend.” Carmy restated sternly, “I want to be exclusive. I don’t you fuckin’ other dudes. I wanna take you on dates. I wanna meet your friends. Fuck it, I’ll go to fuckin’ brunch with you.” you stared at him in disbelief, “You want my cock? That’s only for my girlfriend.” he rocked on his heals hoping this wouldn’t bite him in the face. You scoffed at his comment, “Okay, so you don’t wanna have sex with me?” Carmy shook his head. “I’d love to bend you over my counter and fuck you dumb…” he said, stepping closer to you, “but I only do that to my girlfriend…” he whispered into your ear, making you shutter. “So. What’ll it be? Agree to be exclusive, delete whatever apps you have, block whoever you need to block… then have me worship your pussy all night long… or leave and lose my number?”
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto one shot#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto angst#carmen berzatto angst
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not wrong, but not right
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader
Word Count: 2.5k
Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.
Part II Part III
Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?
A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3
All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school.
Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at.
You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed.
“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.
“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better.
You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good.
Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily.
“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”
“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.”
Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you.
When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.
It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it.
You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut.
Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days.
Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry.
When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back.
“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct.
“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon.
“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”
You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze.
“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback.
“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.
It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again.
You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you.
When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours.
You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right-
Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister.
“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you.
The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again.
Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.
You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it.
You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful.
“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently.
“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it.
“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.
“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.”
“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.
“Because-“
“Why aren’t you eating, chef?”
You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence.
“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.
“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads.
You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take.
“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.”
“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.
“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.
“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him.
He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight.
“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.”
He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air.
“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on.
“Thank you.” You whisper.
“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.”
You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit.
“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle.
“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair.
“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.”
“I’m okay with that.”
#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#the bear#the bear fx#carmy berzatto angst#hurt/comfort#angst#my writing#the shrimp that fried that rice
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hi 🖤 idk if this is a good request? lol but i’d really like to read the ways carmen prefers to be with reader than claire/noticing she’s THE one and not the other way round, maybe there was a little bit of an overlap??? not necessarily cheating but- and how sugar or richie or syd notice that they are endgame
i wanna be yours
carmy berzatto x reader
synopsis: enemies to lovers, carmy likes the attitude he’s developed when he’s around you, far more than being with his girlfriend
part 2
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you knew he didn’t like you.
richie had hired you, after you had walked in with a pile of resumes, dropping off five copies of yours before walking off. he didn’t even get a word in, admiring your style of exiting instead.
he had called you not even an hour later and asked when you could start.
and here you were, a week into waitressing at the bear.
it was supposed to be this prestigious new restaurant opened by some hotshot chef. but you couldn’t be quite sure, chicago had just recently become your home. but quickly you learned the dynamics, except for him, who wouldn’t look you in the eye, let alone talk to him.
“y/n!” richie slammed a hand on the door, swinging it open, “third time calling, where is she?” he looked around in the kitchen, eyes searching for you.
richie looked at carm, who was just finishing a conversation with sydney, “yo cousin! have you seen your employee? her shift started twenty minutes ago!” his shouts drew eyes from the rest of the kitchen staff and carmy turned, sighing slightly as he walked up to richie.
“she’s your employee, cousin. you hired her, you deal with it.” his lip twitched up slightly and richie sighed, throwing his hands up, “it’s shot to hell, all of it!” he slammed another hand on the door and back to the front of house.
suddenly, you barreled through the kitchen’s back door, a bag on your shoulder, impossibly stuffed with belongings as you hurried to the locker room. carmy sighed with annoyance upon seeing you. he turned back around and tried to find something to busy himself with.
“hey boss,” you looked at carmy, who didn’t look up from his cutting, “sorry i’m late there was some-“ you had prepared an excuse! carmy didn’t say anything just shook his head, “don’t wanna hear it, go talk to richie.”
you felt your cheeks burn red with embarrassment as you bowed your head, shuffling past him and out of the kitchen.
“fucking finally! i was beginning to think you thought this shit was optional.” richie spat, throwing a towel at you, “start wiping down the tables for dinner.” you sighed, taking the towel off your chest, where it landed and stuck, and threw it onto a table.
for a moment, you watched as you wiped the table, before looking over at richie, who had his brows furrowed over the cash drawer.
“why does he hate me?” you had an arm on the counter, lips pouted slightly.
richie sighed, knowing exactly who you were asking about. “carmy’s just carmy.” you groaned loudly, “that’s all anyone ever says. it’s just an excuse for him to act like an asshole.”
richie shrugged, “that’s all i got. forget about it and just keep scrubbing, we don’t pay you for nothing, sweetie.”
you blew a breath out, doing just as he said.
“can you please tell carmy that i need friday off?” you hung onto richie’s arm, pulling him as he tried to run away from you earlier. you had been talking his ear off all day about your trip, and how you’ve been needing this.
richie pulled his arm back and held his hands up, “i’ll see what i can do. no promises though, friday night and it’s just me and you up here? we’ll see.” he tried to be realistic in a nice way, although he knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to get that day off.
“we’ll see isn’t good enough, rich. i really, really need this.” you had clasped your hands together to further express your desperation, and richie groaned, “ask him yourself then! im sick of having to be the bridge between you two.”
you blinked, “maybe if i knew why carmy hated me, then maybe i’d do something about it. but fine!” you walked over to the kitchen door, pushing it open. inside, you found the kitchen staff cleaning up. you refreshed your greeting with them before asking about carmy. sydney had directed you to the office, where only a dim light was the indicator that he was in there.
it took you a moment to build up the courage to knock, but the door swung open before your hand even reached it. carmy stood there, nostrils flared as if he had just taken a deep breathe, redness around his eyes, exhibiting his exhaustion.
there was genuine surprise on his face to see you, and you had to withhold a breath, “hey boss.” his blue eyes locked onto yours for a mere second before they floated away, resting somewhere on the wall behind you.
“what’s up?” his voice raised the question and you nodded, “right- i already talked to richie and he told me to ask you, and i don’t know if you’ll even say yes-“
“get to the point.” of course, you should’ve known by his fingers tapping against the door that he was getting impatient. he was important, and constantly busy, he didn’t have time for you or-
“i need friday off.” you breathed, feeling the release of your tension in your shoulders. you almost heaved just as he answered, unsure of what he would say.
“yeah, i guess that’s fine.” he shrugged slightly before clearing his throat. he closed his eyes slightly as your face lit up, “really? thank you, boss. i-“
“can i get past?” carmy interrupted your words and stared at the door, your body halfway covering it. “yeah- of course.” you scooted further into the office as carmy pulled on the doorknob. you felt the edge of the door tap your back, and you shuddered as it swung back and slammed as he left.
blowing out a breathe, you opened the door, eyes accidentally catching carmy’s, who was standing near the kitchen door. you looked away first, still reeling from the interaction in the office. as much grace as you’ve been giving him, it was getting exhausting having to hold yourself back.
“why is he so-“ you struggled for the words to describe your boss, especially to richie. you were frustrated, carmy’s constant dismissal of you, even when you were asking for something that would affect him and his workday, he didn’t care!
“y/n, it’s just cousin. he’s harmless, don’t worry about anything. you got the day off?” richie turned to look at you, your mouth still in a pout, but you nodded nonetheless, “yeah i did.”
“that’s good! just be happy you got it off, hmm?” he tried to be a mediator, tried to be nice and hear you out, but after hearing the two of you express your anguish over the other, day after day, he was getting sick of it. “why’d you ask for it off again? i thought you didn’t have a life.”
you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stared at the ground for a moment, “that’s true. it’s my father’s- was, my father’s birthday.” you laughed slightly, pausing before speaking again, “he grew up here, going to the local theater with his father for his birthday every year. we’d make family trips every year to come back to chicago, watch movies with him in the same theater and share a slice of cake. after he passed, my sister and i were the only ones who did it for a while, but then she got married and suddenly, it was just me.” you shrugged, “and then i moved to chicago permanently, into the same house that my father lived in. and i got a job here.” you smiled weakly, “yeah.”
richie nodded, “yeah.” matching your tone of voice. he didn’t want to speak, letting himself sit with that. you were nice enough, a good kid, and he saw something in you, a little spark just wanting to be ignited fully. he didn’t know what it would take, but it seemed like you didn’t either.
carmy hadn’t realized that he had eavesdropped the entire conversation between you and richie until richie came into the kitchen, slamming the door against carmy, who had stood there, frozen, captivated by your story.
“cousin- get the hell out of the way!” richie barely glanced at carmy, too in a rush to even think to slow down.
carmy looked down at the door as he pushed the door open, out into the dining room. he looked up to see you wiping down the counters. you had a wet rag under your hand, and you were lost in thought as your hand moved in a circular, repetitive motion. you didn’t even notice him as he inched closer, unsure of what he was going to say when you noticed him.
“hey.” carmy realized he was speaking, and as you looked up, your attention. you couldn’t help but smile, this was the first time that you had seen him so still, and so in thought.
“hey.” you returned his greeting, letting the rag go, you turned your full attention to him. he laughed nervously and that made you smile even more. it was odd, how he changed so suddenly with you.
you raised an eyebrow, “is there something wrong?” he hadn’t said anything else, just staring in thought.
he shook his head, and returned himself to the kitchen.
“weird.” you exhaled, watching as the door swung shut behind him. how could carmy go from being the biggest asshole to you, to randomly greeting you then going silent.
you’d talk to richie about it later, but for now you had work to finish.
“claire.” carmy looked surprised to see his girlfriend. it was friday, and normally she stopped by on saturdays. “i thought you worked on fridays.” he pulled her into the office and claire shrugged, “i got off early, just to come see you.”
carmy nodded, “yeah. yeah.” claire raised an eyebrow at him, “i cant leave early tho. y/n asked for the day off and i didn’t realize how much she does so-“ he cut himself off watching as claire’s expression soured slightly.
carmy sighed, “i know- but i’m her boss, im going to have to talk to her eventually.” claire rolled her eyes, “god, i-“ she cut herself off and stood up, “that’s fine, carmen. i understand, really.” her tone sounded irritated as she opened the door. carmy found himself standing to rush after her, but stopped himself.
had he really made a judgement on you based on an experience claire had with you in grade school? so far, you hadn’t mentioned claire to be someone of the past, and carmy had wondered why.
carmy blinked, suddenly getting the urge to rush after claire. but as she walked right out the front door, carmy realized that he had been too late. normally, the guilt would set right in, but as he stared out into the dining room, he could imagine you standing at the counter, eyes shying away from his.
saturday had been a rough start for you. you had spent the whole night before, sobbing at the movie theater. your eyes had puffed up so much that you had to go home, barely able to see the movie through your tears. this time of year was rough for you, especially since your family hardly called. your father had been the glue to hold all your differences together, but it seemed not to have a lasting affect.
when you had arrived late to work, yet again, you had expected carmy to give you the silent treatment, or possibly even yell, but he hadn’t said anything.
except,
“i’m sorry about your dad.” he had looked down at the floor when he said it. you stared at him, shocked that he said anything to you besides the usual, and that he knew about your father.
“how long as it been?” more. he was talking more to you, “uhh-“ you couldn’t contain yourself, “two years. but it feels like-“
“yesterday. yeah i know.” he finished your sentence. “i lost my dad too. a while ago.” he shook his head, as if shaking the feeling that came along with it.
you nodded, holding a small smile that carmy had actually made conversation with you.
“thank you. and im sorry for your loss as well.” you brushed past him, still reeling.
months passed, changing things with time, including carmen.
not only had he become a better boss, but you could consider him a friend. transitioning to kitchen staff had made that happen, including moments that made you think of him as more.
there was no doubt of the chemistry you had with him. everyone noticed it, and sydney had half the mind to encourage it.
“you work so well together! he needs something and you’re there with it! it’s actually insane, like did you guys come from the same planet?” her voice got a little high as she rambled on and you laughed, “what planet would that be, syd?”
she shrugged, “something of greatness. i mean, he’s even said it himself-“
you held up a hand, ending her little ramble right then and there, “sydney. i am not anything like the world renowned chef that runs this place. im not even a sous! i was waiting tables just a month ago.” your hand pointed out to the dining room and sydney threw her hands up, “that’s exactly my point!”
you rolled your eyes, “please stop.” you couldn’t hear her anymore, not while carmy was just minutes from rounding the corner.
“want one?” carmy had noticed you were gone. the rush was starting to slow and you had decided to take a break, not knowing he would follow. there was a cigarette hanging in his mouth glumly, a lighter being tossed between his hands.
“i don’t really smoke.” you answered earnestly. carmy brought the lighter up to his mouth, taking a moment to light it. he inhaled, and you caught yourself staring at him as he exhaled.
“you don’t really?” he sat down, closer than he probably realized. you turned to look at him, eyes hooding as they focused on his cigarette. “mhm.” you answered, leaning a cheek on your hand.
you were reaching out before you realized, fingers wrapping around the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and into yours.
carmy watched you with surprised eyes, as you took a long, deep drag. you exhaled it, hand outstretched to return it. he took it, smiling as he chuckled.
“i���m quitting.” you admitted. looking at carmy, waiting for him to react. he didn’t, and you laughed, “did you hear me, carmen?”
carmy took another drag, pulling out the cigarette to flick it against the concrete step, “no you’re not.”
“i am- i already talked to richie and syd-“ you found yourself trying to justify your decision until he raised his voice, “no you’re not! i said no!”
you flinched, not used to having him scream directly in your face. he didn’t need to, and so he never did.
until now.
your ears were still ringing. you had been staring at carmy’s side profile for five minutes, as he stared ahead in silence.
finally, “why not?” the pure shock had kept you quiet, but you had built up emotion, and your voice couldn’t help cracking.
carmy shrugged, “just don’t. just give me time, alright.”
your frustration grew with his vague answer. he was refusing your resignation, and now he was refusing to tell you why?
carmy panted quietly. he had been in the office for more than twenty minutes, watching as he phone buzzed with call after phone call from claire.
he couldn’t pick up, not when his head was full with thoughts of you. he knew it was wrong, he knew that claire should be the only girl on his mind, but she wasn’t and he felt horrible.
he stared at the phone, swallowing thickly as he picked up the phone, opening a desk drawer and tossing it in.
ever since he had found out that you had no idea who his girlfriend was, and that her entire reasoning to dislike you had been a lie, it had strained his relationship. but claire had been close to catching onto his disillusionment, and it seemed like she reached it.
he opened the office door, breathing in deeply as he saw you in the kitchen, eyes red rimmed but still diligently at work.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy angst#carmy berzatto angst#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy berzatto#carmy smut#carmy x y/n#carmy fluff#the bear angst#the bear#the bear smut#the bear fanfiction
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Vienna. One.
Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.
pairing - carmen berzatto x reader
warnings - cursing. references to mikey’s death.
word count - 2k
authors note - strap in, this one’s gonna be a rollercoaster!! can’t wait to get into this a little more. I love this show, and we’re gonna have so much fun getting lost in that world. this series is going to make you laugh, cry, scream, and want to throw your phone at my head. get ready <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. inbox. masterlist.
home (hōm) - the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.
You’ve been staring at the outside of the building for fifteen minutes.
It looks so different that you had to check the street sign, ensuring you are where you thought you were.
The Bear.
It was The Beef, the last time you were here. Stood in this very spot, tears dripping down your face, you bid farewell to the life you once knew.
Now you’re back.
It looks slick, professional, high end. It’s all polished glass and sharp edges, a drastic contrast from what once stood here.
You wonder what Michael would think.
The thought sends a pang of sadness through your heart, which you shake off as quickly as possible. Today should be a happy day, you remind yourself. Emphasis on should.
You take a deep breath and try the door of the restaurant, surprised when you find it unlocked. Walking inside, you have to stop and take in what’s in front of you.
No more sticky floors or peeling paint or arcade machines. No more flickering lights or red pleather booths or plastic cutlery.
The restaurant you’re currently stood in is slick, spotlessly clean, perfectly laid out. It’s like something out of a magazine. You’re in shock, bewildered by the transformation.
“Holy shit.”
The kitchen door has swung open, and across from you stands Richie Jerimovich.
“Am I hallucinating, or what?”
You laugh, and before you know it, he’s striding towards you, throwing his arms out for you to jump into. He wraps you in a bear hug, spinning you in circles like when you were a kid. You’re dizzy when he puts you down, his hand grabbing your shoulder to steady you on your feet.
“You hallucinate often these days, old man?”
“Old man,” he scoffs. “Yeah fuckin’ right. Do I look old to you?”
“You want me to answer that?”
He shoves you playfully, shaking his head.
“Thought I was seeing ghosts when I saw you stood in here.”
“If anyone’s hallucinating, it’s me. How… how did you do this? It’s like a whole new restaurant, Cousin.”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Really cool. I think I stood and stared at the sign outside for like twenty minutes. Seriously.”
He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.
“He’d have liked it, right?”
You can hear the slight waver in his voice, well disguised insecurity peeking through.
“He’d have fucking loved it, Richie.”
He presses a kiss into your hair, bumping your hip with his affectionately.
“So what, you’re like, a big boss here now?”
“I’m in charge of front of house, actually. I’ve been professionally trained and shit. Oh, guess what?”
“What?”
“I wear suits now. Every night.”
“You’re kidding. Bet you wear them well, too,” you tease, laughing when he kicks your foot with his. “You always scrubbed up well.”
“You gotta see it for yourself. We’ll make you up a table tonight, get you to try everything.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m not gonna put you guys out like that.”
“Vi, you’re not putting us out. And you and I both know Carmen isn’t going to take no for an answer.”
Your heart skips a beat at the very mention of his name.
“I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“Babe,” he practically whines, pulling you into him, “you are never an inconvenience. For any of us.”
“Okay, okay,” you relent, resting your head on his arm. “I can’t wait.”
Richie grins, excitement vibrating off him.
“Okay, let me look at you. You look good, Vi!”
You mock a twirl, spinning with a curtsy for good measure.
“I like your hair like this,” he compliments, plucking at a strand. “Suits you.”
“Thanks, Casanova,” you laugh. “How’s Eva?”
“Oh, she’s good. So good. Did you see all the pictures I posted from the Taylor Swift concert? I’m officially the best dad in the world.”
“I did, and they were the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s so big, now. Can’t wait to see her soon.”
“I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. Cousin tells her stories about you all the time.”
“…he does?”
“Are you kidding? Of course he does. Sugar does too.”
A cool sense of relief washes over you. It’s nice to know that they haven’t forgotten about you, as stupid as it sounds. There’s something comforting about knowing they still talk about you, even when you’re gone.
He plants a kiss on the crown of your head as the kitchen door flies open once again. Marcus, Tina and Ebra file in, along with a girl you’ve never met before. They’re looking at you with curious expressions on their faces when you hear it.
“Does anyone know where the fuck I put my good knife?”
When he doesn’t get an answer, he strides into the restaurant, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you at Richie’s side.
He tries to speak, but he can’t.
Instead, he practically runs across the room, wrapping his arms around you as your feet leave the floor.
You bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of home that you’ve missed so much. He’s murmuring into your ear, but you can’t for the life of you work out what he’s saying. It’s all low and slow, careful to not be overheard. You tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, nudging his face back into your shoulder. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin, which sends a shiver down your spine that you’re praying he doesn’t notice.
Eventually, after what feels like hours, he pulls away to look at you. His hands are on your waist as if they belong there, as yours cradle his face.
“You’re home.”
He breathes it, as if he can’t quite catch a lungful of air.
“I’m home,” you say, sweeping your thumbs across his cheekbones. “You’re home.”
“I’m home.”
You’re completely unaware of the group of people watching you. They all know they should tear their eyes away, but they can’t seem to. It’s new, seeing Carmy like this with someone. They’re all wondering what the hell has happened.
“Fuck, I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he laughs, pulling you back in for another hug.
Pressing a kiss into your hair, he rocks you slightly, as if you’re both completely thrown off balance by the presence of the other.
You step back, giving him a once over.
“I like your tattoos, Carmen. Very hipster.”
“Shut up,” he chuckles, shoving you lightly. You shove him right back, both of you grinning like idiots.
His eyes flicker up, catching Sydney’s gaze. She looks completely bewildered, and a little uncomfortable. Carmy tugs you into his side, turning to face the crowd.
“Syd, this is Vienna. Vienna, Sydney. The rest of you guys know her.”
They all smile, meeting you in the middle for hugs and hellos. You hold your arms out to Sydney, who steps into them somewhat apprehensively, giving you a quick squeeze.
“My name isn’t actually Vienna, but it’s been a nickname for as long as I can remember. So you can call me Vienna, or Vi, or Enna. I get them all.”
She nods, visibly still a little confused. The door swings open one last time, and out walks Natalie.
“Oh my God!”
You give her a careful hug, on account of the bump she’s sporting.
“Oh, you look so beautiful, Sugar. You’re glowing!”
“It’s sweat from the kitchen babe, I swear.”
The blonde sits down at a table, and you join her, eager to catch up with one of your oldest girl friends. As you do, Sydney and Carmy reconvene a distance away.
“She’s pretty.”
“Yeah, she is.”
Carmen’s watching you as you talk to his sister, as if he’s worried you’ll bolt out the door at any given moment.
“Your… girlfriend?”
“Oh, no,” he’s suddenly a little flustered, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Best friend. We’ve known each other forever. Literally. Our mom’s had us a day apart. We were neighbours, grew up on the same street.”
“Ah. And she’s been away?”
“For a long time. Think it’s about five years, maybe more. I went to culinary school, she went to art school, both ended up living in different places.”
“Did you know she was coming back?”
“Jesus, Syd, is this twenty fuckin’ questions?”
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, fiddling with the end of her braid. “You just seemed surprised to see her.”
“Yeah. I was. Had no idea she was back in town.”
“Did you guys keep in touch?”
He gives a look that says really?, but answers the question anyway.
“Not as much as we should have. It’s hard, being so far apart. We saw each other a few times, texted and called when we could. But it’s not the same.”
He glances in your direction to find you laughing with Natalie, a delicate hand placed on her growing stomach. Nat looks happy, carefree, like the young girl she once was. You seem to have that effect on people.
Richie pulls out a chair next to the pair, knocking into Carmy’s shoulder as he sits down.
“Told Vi we’d give her a table here tonight, so she can try everything. You should join her, catch up.”
Carmy reacts as if it’s the stupidest idea he’s ever heard, so Richie continues quickly.
“We need to be able to run this shit without you. One evening with you dining instead of cookin’ won’t hurt.”
“We’ve done it before,” Sydney adds, alluding to that fateful opening night. Richie snickers. Carmy doesn’t.
“And you’ll be here, it’s not like you’re a thousand miles away. We’ll come out and get you if we need help, Cousin.”
Carmy’s known his answer since the very first second Richie asked the question, but he’s trying to play it cool. He doesn’t want to give away just quite how excited the thought of an entire evening with you makes him.
“Fine.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You and Sugar have ended up practically on each others laps at your table, whispering and giggling like old times. She’s telling you a story about something funny Pete said when you look over at Carmy, to find him already staring at you.
Your heart skips a beat as you catch his eyes, smiling gently at the fact he refuses to look away. He’s so timid with everyone else, so worried about what people think of him. He’s never as bold as when he’s with you.
You wink at him, quick and cheeky, and heat blooms across his cheeks instantly. He winks right back, stifling a grin by biting at his lip.
“You never told him, did you?”
Nat’s watching the two of you intently, gaze flicking back and forth between her brother and his childhood best friend.
You take a deep breath. And then another.
“No.”
“Vienna.”
Her tone is stern, almost scolding, and you suddenly feel sorry for the child who’s going to be on the receiving end of it one day soon.
“I couldn’t do it.”
She grabs your hand, resting them both in her lap.
“Secrets like that eat people alive, Vi.”
You squeeze her hand before dropping it, desperate for the conversation to be over.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“The time is never right when it comes to Carmen. You and I both know this.”
You refuse to admit she’s right, even though deep down, you know she is absolutely is.
“You haven’t told him? Richie hasn’t either?”
“It’s not our place to tell him. You have to be the one to do it.”
You inhale carefully, risking a look over to where Carmy is stood up, pointing at a table in the corner of the restaurant. He’s clearly in Chef Mode, both him and Sydney speaking in a language you can’t even begin to understand.
He catches your eye and smiles, all bright and bashful, before resuming what he was saying.
You don’t want to hurt him.
You think it might be inevitable.
Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.
@agirlcandream84 @diorrfairy @raging-panda @melancholicmelanin @nolita-fairytale @jacxx2 @huang-the-geek @2guysonascooter @stxxllaaa @an0nym1ss @thereisnoowl @dreamingofleon
#vienna#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader fluff#carmen berzatto x reader angst#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader fluff#carmy berzatto angst#carmy berzatto x reader smut#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear x reader#the bear x you#the bear fluff#the bear smut#carmen berzatto imagine
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summary: they’re always drawn to each other, no matter how much they resist. its kismet— the Bee and the Bear.
pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader (Bee)
contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, friends to strangersish to lovers, angst/fluff/smut, references to drug addictions/mental illness/suicide, grief, smoking, lots of food mention, alcohol mention (more warnings as they come up!)
current wc: 7.5k
an: the bear has taken over my life. im living and loving and laughing the bear, it is a sickness that can’t be tamed. this is really self indulgent and ive been having such a good writing it so whoever reads thank you ily so bad.
read on ao3 | misc. masterlist
MAIN STORY:
Chapter 1: And Then There Were 4
Chapter 2: Back in the Beef
Chapter 3: Like a Bear to a Hive
Chapter 4: Like a Bee to Nectar
Chapter 5: To be Bitten and Stung
Chapter 6: 666 North Orleans Street
Chapter 7: Leaving Emerald in the Wind*
Chapter 8: Let it Rip
Chapter 9: The Stubborn Bee
Chapter 10: Sweet, Sweet Honey*
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy x reader#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto angst#the bear fanfiction#the bear fx#not sfw#arson writes the bear#the bee and the bear
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Stay
pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader
summary: meeting Carmy's sister for the first time. tw for panic attacks.
word count: 2.9K
The sound of shattering ceramic in the other room makes your head snap up with a start. Across the couch from you, Sugar’s eyebrows knit together in concern — an expression you can only think of as “older sister face”—as she calls out to her brother.
“Everything ok in there, Carm?”
“Guess we know why he’s a chef and not a dish washer,” Pete chuckles, giving her a good natured pat on the knee in reassurance.
When you don’t hear a sound in the other room, you feel a lump begin to grow in your throat.
“I should go check on-“ Sugar starts.
“No, no I got it,” you volunteer, recalling Carmy’s previous statements to you about this sister’s sixth sense for knowing when he’s in trouble (and scolding him for being a “soft shitty bitch” whenever he refuses her help).
“I was gonna refill my drink here in a minute anyway. Can I get you some more wine?” You ask, but don’t wait for an answer as you hurry to your feet and out of the room, leaving the wine glasses forgotten on the table.
__
This was your first time meeting Carmy’s sister.
In the months since you started dating, you had already become well acquainted with his work family, but you knew that Carmy had some hesitations about introducing you to his real family. In the wake of Mikey’s death, he had been putting effort into mending his relationship with his sister, although progress didn’t necessarily come easy. Regardless, someone (probably Richie) let it slip to Sugar that “some girl” had been coming around the restaurant, “making Carmen all smiley.” Before you knew it, Carmy was begrudgingly extending his sister’s invitation to come around for dinner at her house.
The night of the dinner, Carmy drove you out to Sugar’s and you fretted the whole way there about how you looked, what small talk you would make, whether she’d like the bottle of wine you’d brought. But every time Carmy heard the insecurity creeping into your voice, he reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, thumb running softly over your knuckles.
When you arrived, you were greeted by Sugar and Pete, already standing on the front doorstep, ready to pull you into a warm hug.
“It’s so good to meet you!” Sugar tells you with a squeeze. “God, look at you. You’re out of his league.”
She turns and says this with a wink to her brother before pulling him into an embrace as well.
Pete claps you on the shoulder warmly. “Good to have you here - it’s always nice to get another outsiders perspective on these two.”
Dinner itself is phenomenal—you learn that Sugar makes an eggplant parmesan that is to die for and you can’t help but wonder whether aptitude in the kitchen is genetic. Although, you do feel a bit like you’re on display for the first few hours of the evening because every time Carmy even so much as looks at you, Sugar’s eyes widen in delight like a kid on Christmas morning. Eventually Carmy nudges her arm and shakes his head at her, mumbling something about not wanting to scare you off.
At the end of the meal, you stand with your plate in hand, more than happy to help clean up after the amazing meal Sugar had prepared for you.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sugar fusses, reaching out to take the plate.
“No, no I insist. Dinner was so great, it’s the least I can do.”
“How about I get the dishes,” Carmy offers, turning to his sister. “You can go tell embarrassing stories about me in the other room or something. I don’t need to be there when you pull out my sixth grade yearbook picture.”
Sugar looks like she wants to continue to debate the matter but decides against it, settling for topping off your wine glass and motioning to the living room around the corner.
You stack your dishes beside the sink and give Carmy’s arm a quick squeeze. "God, I bet you were such an awkward sixth grader.”
His lips pull into a brief smile and he lets out a knowing chuckle.
“Believe me, I was.” He plants a quick peck on your cheek. “I’ll be out there in a few.”
_
When you enter the kitchen, Carmy’s back is to you as he stands at the sink and you see shards of ceramic – one of Sugar’s dinner plates—scattered on the floor surrounding his feet. Only when you step in closer do you notice the white knuckle grip that Carmy has on the countertop and the way he’s leaning against the granite for stability.
“Carmy?” your voice is panicked as you rush over to his side, sidestepping the worst of the broken dishware on the floor.
When you reach him, all of the color has drained from Carmy’s face and he’s got a fist pressed tightly to his chest as he sucks in frantic, shallow breaths. He blinks heavily, eyes squeezing together as if in pain, and you register something like fear in his eyes when he reopens them.
Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, extending a shaking hand to cover his fist, now clawing at the fabric of his shirt.
“Carmy, Carm –“ You try to keep your voice a soothing tone as you press your fingertips lightly at his jaw. “Carmen.”
His gaze shifts and he starts, seemingly just now aware of your presence. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“Carmy, honey, you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him. “Let’s sit you down, alright?”
At first, you start to steer him toward the kitchen table before he hesitates, keeping his feet planted firmly where he stands. When you look up, you realize why – the table is in full view of the living room, directly in the line of sight of Sugar and Pete.
“Ok, c’mere,” you coax him in the opposite direction, finding an open space away from the broken plate where Carmy can slide to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinets as you settle onto the ground in front of him, gripping his hand firmly in yours.
“If you breathe, you’re gonna feel a lot better. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
He gulps in a shaking breath, which he immediately exhales. Not great, but it’s a start.
“Ok, that’s good,” you nod, rubbing your hand in circles on his back. “This time, I want you to do that for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, ok.”
You breathe in audibly through your nose, counting out the seconds on your fingers as Carmy does the same.
“That’s better, let’s do it again.”
Again, Carmy breathes and you squeeze his hand reassuringly.
“You’re doing great, baby. Now lemme see you hold that breath for two seconds and then exhale out real slow.”
You continue to guide him in his breathing, counting out loud as he gradually builds up to taking longer, deeper breaths. Some of the color seems to have come back into his face, and you can feel his pulse thumping in his wrist, still rapid, but not alarmingly so.
When you stop counting aloud, Carmy continues taking the long breaths on his own, tilting his head back to rest against the cabinet with his eyes closed. You readjust your position on the floor so that you’re sitting beside him, bodies pressed together hip to shoulder as you continue rubbing small circles on his back.
A shadow crosses the doorway, and you see Sugar enter the kitchen, a look of alarm crossing her face.
Your eyes widen and you shake your head, willing her not to make a sound. It’s ok, you mouth to her.
The look of concern never leaves her face, but she nods trustingly and retreats back to the living room.
A few minutes later, you feel Carmy squeeze your hand tightly and you turn to look at him. His eyes are red and look more sullen than usual, but otherwise he looks fine.
“Thank you,” he rasps, not quite meeting your eye as he rakes a hand nervously through his hair and shifts his weight as he begins to stand. “I’m just gonna, uh, splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” you promise.
Carmy disappears down the hall and you hear the click of a door and the faucet running a second later. In his absence, you find a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the broken plate the best you can before Carmy returns.
He says nothing when he comes back, just eyes the now clean floor and nods curtly. The pinched expression on his face tells you that he’s just barely holding something back, so you keep your questions to yourself and allow him to twine your fingers together before leading you back to the living room.
“Uh oh, there are the lovebirds,” Pete chimes when you return. “I was getting scared that you two might be up to trouble.”
Sugar’s face contorts from exasperation to defeat, but you see Carmy smile out of the corner of your eye, acting as if nothing had just happened in the kitchen as he addresses his brother in law.
“Not too much trouble, unless you’re asking the plates. Let me know how much I owe you for that, by the way.”
Pete shakes his head. “You don’t wanna know dude. That shit’s Crate & Barrel – costs an arm and a leg.”
--
Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes without incident, and you almost forget about the scene in the kitchen. Almost.
You and Carmy had brought along a box of Marcus’s latest donut creations for dessert, which the four of you happily dive into, swiping crumbs from your plate when you’re done. Sugar and Carmy take turns telling stories about each other, and Pete even brings up a few stories from his childhood, prompting you to take mental bets with yourself about his upbringing (your money is on him being an only child from an upper middle class family in Nebraska; only a flyover state could produce such a degree of loud, overconfident politeness in a man like Pete).
It’s only when you catch Carmy yawning out of the corner of your eye that you all take note of the late hour and begin the process of saying goodbye. You shrug in to your coat and Sugar loads up your arms with leftovers from dinner, all the while begging Carmy to leave the final two donuts at the house for her and Pete.
In a whirlwind, you are pulled into a warm hug and a kiss is pressed into your cheek as you stand on the doorstep with Carmy. As the two of you start down the front steps toward the car, you hear Sugar’s voice behind you.
“Carmy? Can I see you a sec?”
You sense Carmy’s hesitation but he lingers back as you proceed to the car, depositing the leftover food safely in the backseat. When you turn back, the Berzattos are standing close together, voices low and heads tilted toward each other in conversation. The warm glow of the porchlight catches in a few strands of their hair, illuminating them both in an angelic glow as Sugar pulls Carmy into a final hug and says her goodbyes.
Carmy ambles over to the car, and in the dim moonlight, you notice how weary his face looks now that he’s no longer putting on a polite charade for his sister and brother-in-law.
“Baby, how about you let me drive,” you suggest, running a hand down the rough woolen sleeve of his plaid jacket. “No offense, but you look like you got hit by a bus.”
Carmy looks at you a moment and a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s how I usually look.”
“Well, then it looks like you got hit by a bigger bus than usual.”
He lets out a dry laugh and hands the keys over to you.
You crank the heat in his car the moment you start the vehicle, needing a dry blast of heat to cut through the damp chill of early fall in Chicago. With mirrors and seats adjusted, you pull away from the curb and Carmy directs you out of Sugar’s neighborhood, the headlights of the vehicle cutting through the darkness of Sugar’s suburban streets.
“I think that went really well,” Carmy remarks after directing you to make a left turn onto a more familiar street. “Sugar loves you.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t love me,” you chuckle, bringing the car to a stop at a red light.
“She told me so,” he insists. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already requested to follow you on Instagram and is plotting to invite you to book club with her college friends.”
“Book club? Do they read anything interesting?”
The light turns green and you make the turn onto the highway, accelerating steadily as you merge with traffic. For a few miles, you and Carmy sit together in silence. You swallow the lump that has been gradually forming in your throat since dessert and your palms grow slick as you wonder how best to speak to Carmy about what happened tonight. You suppose you could just let it be for now, although you have a sneaking suspicion, knowing Carmy, that he won’t bring it up unprompted.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the city lights sliding over Carmy’s features as you speed back toward home – red and green lights casting long shadows over his cheekbones, fanned out under his eyelashes.
Your chest constricts as you make the decision to dive in.
“So do you get panic attacks a lot?”
There is a beat of silence before he exhales heavily. “How do you define a lot?”
You give him a stern look over the center console before fixing your eyes back on the road, his hands fidgeting in your peripheral vision.
“I started getting them a lot around the time I came back here,” He admitted slowly. “I suppose I probably used to have a version of them back in New York, y’know, with the whole vomit before work thing. But really, it’s been since Mikey.”
You nod silently, flicking the blinker with your left hand as you change lanes, knowing that your exit is coming up.
“This is the first time I’ve had one since meeting you, though. The last time, Syd had just started at The Beef and I just ran out on her, hauled ass to get to the Al Anon meeting across town. I dunno how to explain it, but I just had to get out of the Restaurant, away from Mikey. It had started to feel to real, y’know? Like he was alive again.”
He lets out a long breath, scratching at the crown of his head as he tended to do whenever he was getting stressed or uncomfortable.
“That’s how it felt tonight too –With you meeting Sugar and all. I was standin’ there doing the dishes and thinking God, this is going great and the thought occurred to me that I couldn’t wait for you to meet Mikey.”
Carmy’s still fidgeting, fingers drumming against his thigh, toying with a loose thread on his jacket. You reach out to him and lay your hand over his, squeezing lightly.
He squeezes back and whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. “He would’ve loved you.”
Your throat feels tight and you’re surprised to feel the prickle of tears stinging your eyes as you listen to his confession.
“I wish I could have met him, Carmy. I really do.”
You take your exit off the highway and zigzag your way down the surrounding streets until you come to Carmy’s apartment, fortunate enough to find parking on your first pass down the street. As soon as you open the car doors, the damp chill of the autumn air raises goosebumps up and down your arms with a shiver.
You’ve barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Carmy tugs you into a tight hug, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he presses his lips to your forehead. You squeeze your arms around him as you bury your face into the curve of his shoulder and feel him let out a long breath. You stand there for nearly a full minute, wrapped up in each other, unmoving until Carmy finally steps away.
“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, motioning his head in the direction of his building.
“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit surprised. Up to this point of your relationship, Carmy had always had a habit of retreating back after sharing such vulnerable pieces of himself – his relationship with his brother, his anxieties about the restaurant. You’d always respected his space, understanding that he’d come back around when he wasn’t feeling so raw. Honestly, you had already expected that tonight you’d be catching the L home and wouldn’t hear from him until tomorrow, so it came as a surprise when he nodded yes, blue eyes pleading with you in ways that words couldn’t.
“Of course I’ll stay,” you promised him. And as you walked arm in arm into the building, you hoped he knew that you would always stay if he needed you to.
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto angst#mine
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i neeeed jealous Carmy smut with an equally intense reader
𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 i decided to combine these two because duh
𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 carmen berzatto and female reader, smut, jealousy, sad reader, carmen has feelings, 1.7k
The day had been boring. It was raining, cold, and a bank holiday. Even Richie was in a sour mood, not cracking jokes and busting your balls like usual.
You mindlessly wiped down the counter with a sopping towel, leaving behind streaky water marks in your wake. As you were about to drop the towel back into the little red bucket on the floor, somebody caught your eye.
He had dirty blonde, curly hair that kind of looked like Carmen’s. You remembered him, barely, from your algebra class in high school. He looked a lot different now, a lot taller, his limbs were crammed into the booth he sat in.
Technically, it wasn’t your job to wait tables; you were only responsible for ringing in the order and shoving the greasy food over the counter. But something carried you away from the register and over to his table.
Just a friendly hello, that’s all you wanted. Confirmation that it was him. Nothing more.
“Can I get you anything else? More water?” You asked with a bright-eyed, charming smile, allowing him a few seconds to take in your face, see if his memory served like yours did.
You waited for the moment of realization to sweep over his features. His eyes lit up and a small smile curled his lips, and he beamed as he recognized you.
“Y/n? That you?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, pinching your brows together, though, to look confused. “How do you know me?”
Coy, coy, coy.
“Oh, uhhh, we had algebra together senior year. We were lab partners.”
“Right!” You acted surprised. “You're Matthew, aren’t you?”
He shook his head in disbelief as he recalled further, an air of pure nostalgia clouding the two of you into a foggy bubble. “That’s right, it was so long ago I forgot! You went out with that Brent guy, I never got the chance to make a move on you.”
You felt your face heat up.
“I always flirted with you, you know?” His green eyes were getting a little too intense, a little too pretty. Your stomach sank as you thought about Carmy who had to have been only a handful of feet away.
“I was too busy staring at Mrs. Johnston’s hairy mole to notice.”
The two of you were lost in a fit of snorty giggles, so lost, in fact, you barely noticed Carmen sneaking out of the kitchen and staring at you from behind.
Carmen had been so abruptly lured from the kitchen by laughter, your laughter intermingled with another deeper tone.
He watched as you placed both of your hands flat on the table, leaning down closer to the man. He couldn’t see, but he was sure your v-neck shirt wasn’t leaving much to the imagination from that angle.
He smacked his spoon on his open palm, harder and harder the longer he watched the interaction unfold. He reached his limit when Matthew reached up to rub the end of your shorts between his thumb and pointer finger, glancing up at you with I’m absolutely dying to fuck you eyes.
He’d taken it too far when he touched you like that, and you let out a nervous breath, about to tell him you should get back to work as the guilt really sunk in.
Carmen had never really understood jealousy until that moment, until his hand grazed your thigh. You'd never given him reason to feel threatened. He didn’t quite understand why his throat burned the way it did, or why his teeth clenched the way they did.
Before he knew it, he was approaching the two of you, greeting your ‘friend’ by grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling him out of the booth. He stumbled to his feet, shouting a “What the fuck, man!” But Carmy was pulling him close to his face, almost spitting in his face.
“Get the fuck out, alright?”
His tone was low, but effective, because Matthew was running towards the door.
“And don’t fucking come back!”
You stood there uselessly, mouth agape and sputtering, probably catching flies. Carmen stood there with you, running his hand over his mouth and down his chin, then letting it drop by his side.
And Richie whistled, finally perking up at exactly the wrong time. He raised his eyebrows and glanced around at the entire staff as if he were asking you guys seeing this shit?
“Fuck, Carmen! He didn’t even fucking do anything!”
“Really?” He gaped. “He had his hand up your goddamn shorts?”
“What do you care anyway, huh?”
He just stared at you, jaw still clenched tight.
Suddenly feeling very aware of your coworkers eyes boring holes into your skull, you rubbed your arm and looked down at your non-slip shoes. “I’m going home, Carmy. Go fuck yourself.”
“Your shift isn’t over for another four hours!”
Too late. You were already out the door, getting soaked in the downpour. The train ride home was long, wet, uncomfortable.
You were entirely ready to sulk in your apartment by yourself, showered, fed, in your pajamas. You pulled your comforter over your head, willing yourself to stop thinking about Carmen, to just go to sleep. But you couldn’t stop counting down the hours, minutes until Carmy would be closing the restaurant and starting his commute home, silently expecting him to show up at your door.
And he did.
Banging on your door with a closed fist, Carmen stood outside of your apartment.
You flung back the covers, shoving your feet in your slippers and wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.
You let him in. You didn’t even have to think about it.
He pushed past you, pacing in your tiny foyer before grabbing your face and shoving his lips onto yours. You hummed, temporarily relieved to feel his soft, soft lips pressed onto yours so perfectly. But then you were shoving him off of you, so hard he almost hit the opposite side of the hallway.
“Are we gonna talk about today?” You asked, trying to conceal how breathless you were from just one kiss.
“He was being an asshole.”
“He was just flirting with me, Carmen. You’re not my boyfriend. You said it yourself.”
And he had told you that, told you that the restaurant was his priority, not you. He remembered the day he’d said that to you, and how closed off you were the rest of the day. He thought he maybe saw you crying.
“Is that what this is? Are you trying to get back at me, or something?”
Your tone quickly turned defensive, but the more you thought about it the truer it sounded.
“Fuck–Maybe! Maybe you made me feel like shit, Carmen! Maybe you made me feel like I’m just here so you can get your dick wet!”
He couldn’t even begin to synthesize his thoughts and put them into words, that wasn’t something he was good at, ever. He decided he could only try and show you.
His lips were back on yours in a frenzy and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to push him off or crumble under his touch like you always did. You let him shove your back into the wall, his hands shakily pulling off your t-shirt.
It was his t-shirt, but for once he wasn’t going to be an asshole and bring it up.
The entire thing was rushed and frantic. You weren’t even sure how you ended up in your bed with your legs wrapped around his hips, him shoving his cock into you greedily, like he couldn’t get close enough, deep enough.
The groans he let out, that you swallowed right up because his mouth was so, so close to yours, were steady and deep and made your stomach flutter.
“You feel so good.” He whispered, kissing right where your ear connected with your face. “Fuck I—I wanted to tear him apart. Hated seeing you with him.”
“I’m sorry.” That was all you could say as you searched his eyes, only finding hurt behind them.
His hand smoothed up your thigh, grazing the spot where your old friend’s had hours earlier and you felt like crying. You felt like telling him you loved him.
You bit your tongue, turning so you didn’t have to look at him anymore. He dropped his head into the crook joining your shoulder and neck, hot breaths tickling your skin. You felt his curls on your collarbone and you couldn’t help the sob that got stuck in your throat.
Carmen pushed himself up on one arm, using the other to push your hair back from your face and kiss your forehead.
Soon he was shuddering as he came inside of you. His head drooped between his shoulder blades and he stared down at your heaving chest.
He pulled out, resting his back against the pillows. When you didn’t move, he hauled you up the bed himself, tucking you under his arm.
A tear rolled down your cheek and onto his bare skin, and you smiled sadly. The warm pad of his thumb swiped it away.
Maybe you were crying in anticipation, expecting him to leave again, maybe you were crying because of how much you loved him.
You felt him sigh, your head sinking and rising with his breaths.
“I didn’t know what to do today.”
You glanced up at him through wet lashes.
“When I saw him touching you.”
You looked away from him again.
“Tell me—” you paused. “—tell me what we are.”
You didn’t want to tell him, and never would, but you were so tired of the back and forth.
“I don’t know.”
He felt more of your tears on his skin.
“All I know is, when I saw you with him I knew I didn’t want to see you like that ever again.”
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto angst#carmen berzatto x female reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto angst
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✧ LOVE ME AGAIN WITH CARMY BERZATTO
→ carmy berzatto x reader
→ you and carmy have always had a volatile relationship, and when you decide to break up for good, things seem to take a turn for the worst. carmy misses you and you miss him. everything could change when the bear opens.
→ warning: anxiety, angst, some signs of depression, light smut nothing to worry about
→ 4kish
Your relationship with Carmy was always going to be stormy.
While your friends spent their Valentine's Day in fancy restaurants and luxurious hotels, your Valentine's Day was depressing and lonely with a meaningless box of take-out and too much cheap wine. And then the next day was even worse. The regret and bitterness. The anguish and the fear of losing you, it all came at once, and you could feel Carmy slipping through your fingers like sand, fast and at great cost.
And it wasn't as if he didn't care. You lived in Carmy Berzatto's mind twenty-four hours a day. You'd still be there if the days had more hours. He had too much feeling and not enough showing. And that killed him a bit every day. For it was you. You who comforted him after Mikey's death, you who bandaged all his cut fingers after a grueling day at The Beef. It was you, who watched him take over a new restaurant and start all over again.
You were there and Carmy hated himself for not being able to do the same.
There were times when he was lost in his own head. Fear ate him from within and breathing seemed almost impossible. There were countless times when you received messages from Sydney or even Natalie, when he accepted that he was in need of something, someone. From you. And it was never easy, because he made everything so difficult for himself. He did not want to involve you in the vortex of anxious thoughts that were occupying his mind. He didn't want to drag you into the personal hell that his mind had concocted.
But pushing you away was tantamount to losing you. And for Carmy, it was only a matter of time. Just as the sky is blue and water is liquid and so on, losing you was inescapable. One day it would happen. He didn't know when, but predicting the worst had been a common part of his life.
Then you hoped he would be there on one of the most important nights of your life. You had worked long and hard, and all your family and friends were coming to see the hard work you put into your art. You were happy in spite of everything. It had always been your dream to be recognized for your art, and to see the people you love the most recognizing it, honoring you for it, was priceless.
You kept glancing at the gallery door, waiting for Carmy to appear before you like a perfect dream come true. And with each passing second, it was clear to you that this was not the case. Almost twenty calls and thirty texts and no answer. At this point, you had no interest in the question of where he might be.
And somehow you could understand Carmy's busy and chaotic life. He had too many responsibilities, his mind was like an endless to-do list, and things just kept popping up, even more so after The Bear situation. But the selfish and unselfish part of your twisted mind wanted him to be there, to make time in his evening to be with you. After all, what was important to him was important to you as well. But often it didn't seem that way. And that was hard to deal with.
You heard the door of the small apartment you shared open just after two in the morning. It was dark. Only the lamp was on, which made for a calm atmosphere despite the usual tension in the house. And as soon as he entered the room and saw a suitcase packed at the foot of the bed, you could see the mixture of awe and panic on Carmy's face.
For a few seconds, he just stood there like that. Just standin' there. Blue eyes fading in something you no longer recognized. The distance between the two of you was almost palpable. Your heart crushed in your chest, shattering into a thousand little pieces.
Carmy lowered his head with a sense of defeat. The day he had been dreading had come, and he felt nothing but stupid and incompetent for allowing it to happen, even though he knew it was going to happen. The trembling in his hands was real, and he had to hide them behind the rest of his body so that they wouldn't be noticed.
"I'm sorry." It was the sound of his voice, almost in tatters, that did your heart in.
Carmy looked at you, shaking hands through his disheveled hair. This isn’t something he wanted to say goodbye to. What he had with you was the most beautiful part of his life. To lose you is to lose everything. And he didn't want to lose it all.
One tear ran down your cheek. You wiped it away before a single tear could turn into a few. You wouldn't know how to stop if you dared to cry now.
You said, "There are some leftovers from the dinner in the oven. I've sorted out your last few bills so you can get organized without having to worry, and..."
"I'm so sorry."
"...and the key is where it should be. If there is anything you need, Carmen, you can give me a call and..."
"No. No. I'm sorry."
The realization hit Carmy as hard as rock. He was on his knees in front of you. Feeling his hands around your wrists, you closed your eyes. There was something familiar and cruel about the calluses and the way his thumb brushed the inside of your arm.
You were so much in love with him that it hurt. Loving him like that, it hurt physically.
"I'm sorry. I'm going to be better. I'll get better, I'll focus on the things that matter and... I swear. I promise you, just... Please." His voice was like knives. They cut deeply and hurt.
You gulped, trying to escape the ocean of blue before them. There was so much pain in Carmy's eyes that all you wanted to do was hug him, take care of him and tell him that everything would be okay. But this cycle had to end, and you'd done it countless times.
You tried to get up from your shared bed, but Carmy stopped you. "Carm." You whispered in an attempt to get him to stop.
"Please." He whispered back.
"It's not working. You know I... I can't."
"I fucking love you. You're... I..." Carmy sighed and moved away, sitting down on the carpet a few steps away.
There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he couldn't. Carmy had the feeling that the floor was opening up and his body was being dragged into this black hole. His heart was beating so fast. He thought it would explode out of his chest. If he was the reason you were leaving, how could he beg you to stay?
And he knew it. He had been reading the signs. All the times he'd been late, even when you'd agreed to go out to eat together. All the dates he didn't show up for. The anniversary that hadn't worked out. That trip to Europe. All the things that piled up. He knew it, and he was there, and he was letting it happen.
But at the same time, he knew that you deserved better than that. You deserve someone who would give you time and love. Who would be there every day. Who would learn to love you the way you deserved. The love he felt for you was far greater than he was able to express, but that would have been egotistical of him.
Sometimes love is not enough. You have been the living proof of that.
"Carm. Look at me."
You knelt before him. He touched your hands once more, which were now touching his damp face. The last thing he would remember, besides your watery eyes, would be the scent of pear and vanilla that permeated your sweater.
"You'll be fine. I hope you're fucking happy and that all your hard work pays off. I'm your biggest fan. You know that, right?" You tried to put on a smile but failed miserably. "Carmen Berzatto, I will always support you.”
Everything I've achieved is meaningless without you, Carmy wanted to say, but couldn't.
Only your ragged breath broke the cruel, melancholy silence.
You wiped your face and got to your feet, ready to leave. Ready to leave behind all of the memories that you had with the man that you loved the most.
Before you left, Carmy looked at you and said, "All those things, they were true. They were real."
You understood his meaning and agreed with a nod of your head.
And so it was only at 2:47 a.m. when you finally left the apartment, that you allowed yourself a good cry.
It had been two months since you and Carmy had broken up. You hadn't heard from him since.
The only close contact you had with Carmy was Sydney, but you had been clear when you mentioned that she could only talk about him if it was something urgent. And nothing urgent had come up in two months.
You missed him, you couldn't deny it. Life was hell with him gone. Despite all that was bad and rotten, Carmy was kind, gentle, chivalrous, and cared about your feelings. You missed all the mundane things, even the times you ate packs of cheese balls while watching a movie, just waiting for the part where his hand would accidentally slip up your thigh and the movie session would turn into a making out session.
You tried to move on, except for the significant absence of him in your life. Grocery shopping was no longer the same. No cashew juice or fancy, barely pronounceable fruit and spice names. Just the usual bland basics. Maybe that was what it was like to live without Berzatto.
It was a rainy Tuesday, one of those Tuesdays when you just wanted to stay in and not have to deal with any obligations. You were one of the unfortunate ones who had to deal with adult life and buy parmesan cheese because your sister was the only one who could make macaroni and cheese worth eating. There was a place you only knew about thanks to Carmy that sold quality products.
The rain had made your hair wet, and the guard at the small market smiled sympathetically when he saw the miserable situation you found yourself in. You nearly laughed at yourself. Basket in hand, you wandered the aisles singing a pop song from the radio. Your eyes scanned the perimeter of the dairy aisle, and with your finger, you tried to select the best product.
Parmesan, in hand, you froze to the floor. The voice in the back of your head was so familiar, so ghostly, that it made you turn around in a hurry.
And there he stood. In the white shirt and the tattered jeans. His sandy hair so tousled that you felt your hand involuntarily clench in the desire to touch him, to feel his softness. You thought about calling him up, to say hi. The question in your mind was whether it would be too weird. Or perhaps not.
A woman with dark hair and sky blue eyes walked up to him, leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Both of them laughed. You felt your heart sink.
Carmy turned around, a small smile on his face, and when you least expected it... they were kissing.
You felt as if time stopped running. That millisecond was etched in time. You could hear the gasping breath tearing at your chest, the tears gathering at the waterline, and your heart crashing again, for the same person.
"What are you doing? It's like you went to make that damned Parmesan, and I had to check to see if anything was wrong..." As your vision blurred, your sister's voice echoed in the back of your mind.
"Let's get out of here."
"What happened?" She tried to get you to look at her, but you just kept pushing her toward the marketplace.
"Let's take it somewhere else."
"But you said..."
"I'm aware of my words. Now let's just go."
As you dragged your sister down the aisle, Carmy could have sworn he heard something that sounded like you. But he couldn't really be a judge of his own conscience. Unable to tell what was real and what was not, he had been hallucinating for days. He would hear your voice and swear that he saw you somewhere, only to not be able to see you there.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked with a light squeeze of his hand.
"Yes, of course. Let's get going?" Carmy said, forcing a smile. Claire agreed and gave him a kiss again.
Carmen didn't want to relive ghosts from the past, no matter what had happened.
A week later, Sydney and Sugar had a text message that The Bear was finally open for business. The first night they were only opening for friends and family. They insisted that you should come. That it was important not only to themselves but also to Carmy.
You weren't sure about that. You had no idea what to do when you got there, because your presence could mean so many things. And despite everything, there was the news that still lingered in your mind: Carmy had met somebody.
Selfishness wasn't for you. You didn't want his eternal devotion. After all, you had put an end to the relationship. But when it came to him, that little feeling of envy and jealousy still existed. Because in spite of it all, you never stopped loving him.
"Well, you know what? Fuck it."
You yell at the top of your lungs before you start rummaging through your closet until you find the perfect dress to wear.
You once told Carmy that you would always be his biggest supporter and that you would always be true to your word.
You were greeted by Sugar. She looked gorgeous with her pregnant belly and a radiant smile when she saw you.
She said, "I can't believe you came!" She hugged you in a consoling way that only the Berzatto's could do. "You look so beautiful, honey."
"Nah. This is beautiful." You point to the room. "Look at you, Sug!"
"Come on. I'll show you your table." Sugar made her way among the tables. They were already crowded with familiar faces.
You looked amazed. "I'm seated?"
"Of course, dummy. You're one of us. I hope being away hasn't made you forget that."
You hugged her once more. Then you sat down at a small table with your name on it.
"Make yourself at home. We'll serve you soon."
"Thank you, Sug."
Fak almost kicked in the door, breathless. Sydney gave him an annoyed look as she tried to shake off so many orders in front of her, then whispered, "What the hell, Fak."
"She's here."
"Who's here?" Carmy asked, not even bothering to look at Fakerson.
"Your girl." Fak said smiling. "I mean, your ex-girl...?"
"Claire's here?" Sydney said, confused.
"Claire is here?" Carmy looked at him, completely taken aback.
"Why would Claire be here? I thought you guys broke up." Richie shot back before leaving the kitchen.
"Thanks, cousin." Carmy said, noticeably irritated.
"I thought it was obvious they broke up." Sydney grimaced.
"Guys?" Losing a little patience, Carmy put his hands on his waist.
"Wait. You and Claire broke up? Uh, Jeff..." Tina came over to Carmy's station with a pair of frying pans.
"Chefs! Appreciate the interest in my love life. Now, focus, please!" Carmy shouted. Everyone scattered to their stations. "Fak, who the fuck is out there?"
Fak started to speak, but before he could finish what he wanted to say, Richie appeared, wide-eyed.
"She's here."
And Carmy felt his whole body fall numb before he could even understand. It wasn't Claire. The last time they saw each other, she had made it clear that she didn't want any kind of involvement if he still had someone else on his mind.
And from Richie's smile, that could only mean one thing.
Carmy Berzatto was fucked.
Ten minutes had passed and Carmy had already cut his finger twice and almost burned the salmon. His mind was on the small pane of glass that was the partition between the salon and the kitchen.
You, sitting alone at a table, so beautiful and angelical that he felt his chest ache. And he couldn't tell if it was the black turtleneck dress, or your hair, or the red lipstick that outlined every curve of your mouth.
Carmy was at a loss. To bring him back to reality, Sydney had to yell at him five times. There was a kitchen to run and many dishes to do.
Richie appeared at your table from time to time. First it was with your favorite wine. Then with your main course, because you hated appetizers and you were sure it was a Carmy thing. Pork burger with gravy and tomato salad with red onion and Diet Coke. Carmy's first meal when you started dating, right in The Beef's old kitchen. He fed you. Then you had the most intense sex in his office.
Carmy knew what he was doing when he used food to bring back memories. So do you.
Sugar appeared again after dessert: pineapple ice cream with blackberries and wine. The restaurant was already very empty, only three tables were occupied, one of them being Sydney's relatives and Natalie's husband.
"Hey. So I had a talk with Carmy and he asked me if you could stay a bit longer..."
"I'm not sure."
"He wants to talk to you."
You had no idea what would come out of this conversation. What you had seen weeks ago still hurt. Talking might hurt you both more.
"Sug, I don't know..."
"Look, I get it. I really do. I'm not just saying this because I care about him. I know he has a lot of feelings for you. I saw how bad he was after you broke up, honey. I don't know what came of it, but... If you still care about Carm, please. I beg you. Talk to him, will you?"
It took a couple of seconds and Natalie was starting to think that you were going to get up and walk away.
"All right, then. I'm waiting."
"Good night, Chef!" Sydney was the last one out the backdoor.
Carmy leaned against the counter and ran his hand over his face. What was he thinking when he asked you to stay?
Now he could see the empty lounge. You sitting there, sipping your last glass of wine. Natalie, afraid of something worse, looked at your table and the kitchen every five seconds.
It was after one in the morning. You were impatient. Fear was eating you alive.
You stood up from the table and patiently walked over to Natalie. "May I go now?"
"He's in there. I'm leaving. Pete's waiting for me outside. Honey... Thank you for your patience. If you need anything, call me. Nice seeing you."
You said goodbye in a hug. "So do I, Nat. Thank you so much for everything."
It was only when you turned to the kitchen door and saw his silhouette inside, waiting for you, that you realized you were alone with Carmy. As you walked slowly, you gathered your thoughts.
Just as you opened the door, Carmen turned around. And by God... you couldn't look more beautiful. Your wine red cheeks contrasted with your red lips and it was driving him insane.
"Hey, Carm." Your voice struggled to come out. Carmy almost broke into a smile when he heard it.
"Hey." He whispered. "Thanks for coming."
"You know I wouldn't miss it. I'm happy for you guys. This place... It's beautiful, Carmy. What you've done to this place... It's just incredible."
"I wish I could have shown it to you sooner, but... Yeah." An awkward smile and a scratch at the back of his head. "Thank you."
You bit your lip, worried. "Did you want to... talk?"
"Yes. I, um, do. I don't really know what... I just... I wanted to see you." He agreed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Everything. I guess."
"Berzatto, history is history."
"No, it isn't." In denial, he took a step closer to you. "If history is history, then why don't I stop thinking about you?"
He had you by surprise. "Carmy."
"I mean it. None of it matters. Why... You're the only person who knows my heart by heart. You're my only true opener. And I know, I know I've failed you a thousand times and you probably deserve a luckier jerk than me."
Carmy felt overwhelmed. Exhausted.
"I love you. I love you so much that it scares me because I've never felt shit like this for anyone, you know? This feeling that suffocates and eats you alive, this shit scares me. And I know I'm a fucking psycho, but that's who I am, and I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I just... Fuck!"
He sniffled. He was trying to get rid of his watery eyes and all the humiliation that came with them.
You were in sheer shock. Carmy had never been so vulnerable as now and the whole situation was startling and unfamiliar to you.
"That's pathetic. I'm sorry." Disguising his shame with self-deprecation, he tried to laugh it off.
"Carmy." You took a step back, getting close enough to see how flushed he was. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this stuff before?"
"Because I was scared. When something good happens to me..."
"You have an automatic assumption of the worst."
He agrees and looks down. You sigh and look at the countertop where his hands are. Exposed tattoos, each screaming for your silent touch.
"If all of this is real. Then why were you kissing her?"
"Claire?" He seemed surprised you knew her. "It didn't last. I don't know... I don't know what the hell I was thinking. In fact, I have a pretty good idea where my thoughts were. It just wasn't about her."
"Carm." You whispered, fingering his hand. "I don't care about the vanity. I just want to know if it's for real. If everything you've said is true."
Carmy felt his heart explode in her chest. Like a rough sea, his eyes watered. He took your hand and held it as he took one last step. The last step for the two of you to merge into one. Like a trap, his lips captured yours. Carmy was beastly, wild, desperate. There was an eagerness in his touch, and in the way that his lips moved around yours.
One of his hands went straight to your neck, gripping it tightly, while the other squeezed the skin around your waist. As he pressed you against the bench, deepening the kiss and moving your head as he pleased, a gasp escaped your lips. You were breathless. You felt narcotized by the longing for him again.
And it wasn't just a physical need. It was a lust for the meeting of souls.
"Is this real enough for you?" Carmy said after the kiss, sucking your lip and making sure you looked deep into his eyes.
You kissed him again with no time to lose. This time you made your way through the kitchen, knocking over utensils and pans along the way until you found your way to the office. Carmy rushed to close it, barely breathing.
Once again, he pinned you against the wall and held your wrists so that you wouldn't be able to escape even for a second. His lips explored your skin, every inch of it, so that you would never forget the taste. He wanted to carve his name into your skin, to worship you, to be devoted to your body and your love forever.
He had never felt anything so intense, and as frightening as it was, it was wonderful.
"Carmy." You whimpered as you felt his hands on your skin, on sensitive spots that made your eyes roll back.
"For old times' sake?"
"For old times' sake."
#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy imagines#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear hulu#the bear imagines#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto angst#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto smut#the bear fx
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Two to Tango
prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.
pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader
pairing: Carmy x Peach
fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear
word count: 5.4k+
note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!
warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.
part one:
God's Plan
browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"
You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"
"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"
He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."
"What do you want?"
"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.
You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"
He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"
"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.
"Oh, someone's touchy."
"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"
He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."
You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"
"He's falling apart."
"O...Kay?"
"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."
"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.
"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."
"So, he needs his mother?"
Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."
"I'm not laughing."
"He needs you."
"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."
"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."
You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"
"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."
"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.
"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "
"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"
Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."
"Sucks to suck."
"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"
"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."
"How is talking to the man you love - "
"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."
"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."
You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"
He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"
"To say... What?"
"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."
You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.
"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."
"Really?"
"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"
He shrugged, "Maybe..."
"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."
"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."
"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."
"He won't go."
You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."
Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"
"What?"
"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"
"It's not even seven in the morning!"
"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."
You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.
When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.
"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."
"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.
"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.
The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "
"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"
He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.
"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.
"Carmy, we need to talk."
"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.
"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "
"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."
"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."
"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"
"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "
"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."
"Carmy," you sighed patiently.
"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "
"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."
"Nah, I'm okay - "
"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."
"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."
"Calling me desperate?"
"I didn't mean any of it."
"A bitch?"
"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."
You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."
"I don't deserve you."
"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."
"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.
"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."
"I know," he squeezed you tight.
"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.
"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."
"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."
"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."
"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."
"I don't deserve it."
"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."
He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."
"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.
"Move in with me - officially."
Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "
"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."
"Carmy."
He frowned, "I'm sorry."
"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"
He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."
You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."
"I'm fine - "
"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."
He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.
"Exactly why we're going back to yours."
Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"
You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"
You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."
He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.
"Okay?"
"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."
"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"
"I will be."
"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."
"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.
"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."
"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.
"Fair point - just one then - "
He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.
When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."
"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."
He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.
"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.
"We're talking it out."
He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."
"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"
He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"
"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."
Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.
When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.
"Why?" He whispered.
You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."
"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.
"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."
Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."
"It's okay, baby," you whispered.
"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"
"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"
He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.
You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.
"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."
You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.
"Why can't I get out?"
You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.
"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"
"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.
"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."
"Laid to rest."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"
"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."
"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."
"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.
When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.
"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."
"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."
He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.
"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.
"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.
"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"
"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"
"I don't want you t'clean after me."
"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"
"I feel better, yeah."
"Good."
"And I made up my mind."
"Hmm? About what?"
"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."
"Think you can handle that?"
He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."
You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."
"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.
True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.
You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.
Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.
You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.
They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.
You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.
Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.
And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.
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#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto angst#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto hurt and comfort#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto#carmen carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x female!reader
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Oh Baby - A Carmy Berzatto Story
dad!carmen berzatto x f!reader
carmy masterlist
a small family, a new family, trying to figure this thing out.
warnings | 18+ angst surrounding being new parents, work stress, but enough fluff to make up for it, i promise
a/n | this sweet little piece comes from a lovely request sent to me over DM, thank you so much for sending this my way, i hope i've done it justice. Also have to thank the cousins @tieronecrush and @northernbluess for reading this bad boy and letting me scream about the bear, love ya both
........................
He’s running late. It started with a question from Sydney about one of the new menu items, and then it was Sugar needing to show him a quote for some inspection they still need to get done. And then there was something with one of the new chefs, though he can’t really remember what it was right now as his brain fries with how late he is.
He told her he’d be home by midnight at the latest, finish dinner service and get his ass home immediately. He had even made a joke about getting home just in time to give their girl her seemingly routine middle of the night bottle. But it’s now two in the morning and he’s only just getting on the L to get back to their apartment.
It’s not like he has a hard time with the late nights. In fact, he always thrived on this chaotic rhythm. But he knows it’s not doing her or their girl any good. Getting home and crashing in bed, useless until ten in the morning, no help with breakfast or getting their girl dressed and ready for the day, shuffling into the living room to find her already working at her desk, her foot keeping a steady rock to the bassinet right next to it. A few days ago, the fleeting thought that she looked like a single mother, and then an immediate clench and clash of pain sliding through his chest. It’s the same feeling he has right now on the train, building and beating until he has to put his palm right over the hurt, like he might be able to press it out with the heel of his hand.
He could slow down, everyone at the restaurant has offered that up to him. Shorter shifts, only there when he’s really needed, whole days off. So he doesn’t know why he can’t just accept that, why he’s still holding onto the restaurant with white knuckles. And right now, he’s too tired to give it much thought beyond how badly he wants things to be different. No more disappointed sighs, no more ships in the night, no more making promises only to break them.
He’s only a little surprised when he walks into their apartment that the light in the kitchen is on, her light murmurings filtering through, enough to make that hurt even worse. He finds them standing in front of the microwave, waiting for a bottle to be warmed up, and for a moment, what a sight it is. She’s wearing an old The Beef t-shirt, legs bare and set in a slow shuffle side-to-side, her cheek pressed over the top of their girl’s head where she’s held in her arms, eyes dropped shut. A small smile that slides away when her eyes crack open to see him standing in the doorway.
“You’re home.” It’s barely rasped on a whisper, a small frown pulling down each word. He considers for a moment that he’d really like for the ground to swallow him up right about now.
“I’m sorry, baby, I–” His words crack when their girl starts to fuss, small coos and whimpers, tiny fists balled and pressing against her mom’s chest to arch her back away from her hold. And there it is, that sigh, that small collapse of her shoulders as she gets the bottle out of the microwave, no longer looking at him, brushing right past him to go sit down in the living room. He follows on her heels with all the timidity of a scolded dog.
“I can do it, if you wanna go lay back down. It’s– I’d like–”
“I can do it, Carmen.” Still not looking at him, her eyes focused on their girl, finger skating down the rounding of her cheek as she latches onto the bottle. He knows it’s one of the ways she tries to even the score with him, a petty thing to not let him partake in or watch this small wonder. When she was first born, and she was still breast-feeding, and he was still on a Sugar-mandated paternity leave, he’d hover endlessly. Just over her shoulder, watching the way their girl's hand splayed over her sternum like a perfect flower as she latched on, whispering in awe at her contented sighs and eager gulps. Always dropping a kiss to her temple, small words of love and gratitude, her chin tilting up, basking in them, warmth in the way she would look up at him.
But now, now she’s looking at him with all of the kindness of a prison inmate, eyes blank and jaw set as she cups the back of their girl’s head, smoothing out the mass of curls already growing, just like his. For a moment, only fleeting, anger starts to rise like bile up the back of his throat. Anger that he’s here now, wanting so badly to be here now, and she’s the one boxing him out. But that anger is gone in a blink because he can see the way her eyes are starting to swim, red-rimmed and heavy down her cheeks. And he can see the way her lip is starting to tremble too, even as she coos and hums to their girl when she starts to fuss with the bottle. He can’t be angry when she’s hurting like that, when he’s the one who has made her hurt like that.
He kneels down in front of where she’s sitting on the couch, a small relief that she doesn't flinch away when his palms come to rest on her knees. He can tell that she’s trying not to break, little sniffs to hold back the flood as their girl continues to suckle.
“I don’t want it to be like this.”
“Neither do I, Carm.” Said on a sigh, like, sure, nice words, not expecting anything to come of them though.
“Tell me what I can do to make this different.”
“I’m dumbfounded by the fact that you’re asking me to tell you what to do. Do you really not know?” Quick and clipped, still whispered so that it doesn’t disturb their girl as she finishes her bottle. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to arrange the right words to respond.
“You’re right.” The best that he can come up with at two in the morning, though at least it’s the truth. She just sighs though, shaking his hands off her knees so that she can stand up. And this hurts too, how easily she can do this by herself, or at least how easy she makes it look, transferring their girl to one arm as she pads back into the kitchen. A little more space between them as he follows behind her, watching how she holds the bottle against her hip to get the top screwed off, rocking and shushing their girl all the while as she soaps up the bottle.
“Baby, let me do that. I can, here, just let me–”
“Goddamnit, Carm.” Still whispered, but still sharp, enough for their girl to let out a whine at her sudden exclamation, though she’s quick to soothe and calm against her shoulder.
“Do you want to know why I don’t let you help? It’s because I’m trying to get used to doing this on my own.”
“What?” It feels like the floor has dropped out from under him, a skittering, sickening feeling running up and down his spine. He wants more than anything to reach for her, for both of them, to thumb away the tears that are starting to fall even as she tries to steel her jaw. All he can do to ball his hands into fists over and over.
“You’re not here, Carmen. And when you are, it’s like– it’s like I’m living with a stranger. You told me before we had her that you would be here, that things at the restaurant were going to change. And I’m getting tired of waiting for that to happen.”
“What are you saying right now?” She scrunches her eyes shut for a moment, pure frustration, and complete exhaustion, all the while still rocking their girl.
“I’m saying that if this is how it’s going to be, I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you. My sister–”
“No.”
“Carm–”
“No. That isn’t– that’s not– you can’t just take her from me like that. We– we said we would do this together.”
“We already aren’t doing this together, Carm. And I’m just– I’m tired.” There isn’t any more to say, not now. She doesn’t look at him again, brushing past him through the doorway of the kitchen to get to the nursery down the hall. He doesn’t try to follow, numbly shuffling back to the couch, a full body slump, tilting his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose when the tears start to prickle. He listens to all the small sounds, stealing snippets of her humming, the quiet padding of her bare feet into their bedroom, the rustling of sheets. And then perfect silence, except for the broken exhales he keeps trying to stifle.
…
Sleep happens, somehow. Curled onto his side on the couch, but not for long, the watery blue glint of dawn slanting in through the blinds when he’s woken up to the sound of their girl’s quiet babblings. The nursery is closer to the living room, so he’s almost certain she hasn’t been woken up by the sound yet. But he also knows that those soft coos will soon turn into full-blown wails, so he gets up, biting back a groan as his spine shifts and crackles upright before stumbling into the nursery.
Everyone seems to call their girl something different. She calls her bean, or sometimes pearl, any iteration of small, precious things, usually with a my in front of the word. Richie calls her cub, or cubby, a fitting choice given her father’s nickname. Sugar calls her curl because of that head of hair she’s already grown into. Sydney calls her miso baby, though it all comes out as one word like misobaby, on account of the cravings for broth and noodles her mother incurred while she was pregnant with her, something that Sydney was always happy to accommodate whenever she stopped by the restaurant. Carmy’s is less creative, he thinks, the first word he remembers coming to mind when he first held her in his arms, somewhere between wonder and utterly sweet devastation at the sight.
“Hey, little, what’s going on in here?” It always shocks him, how light his whole world is when he picks her up in his arms, and how easily her cheek settles against his chest, his palm smoothing the small shake of her cries between the fragile wings of her shoulder blades. He remembers being terrified the first time he held her, that he’d somehow manage to ruin this most perfect thing. Laying in her hospital bed, watching, she reassured him that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t, that perfect came from him just as much as it came from her.
“It’s breakfast time, isn’t it? We’re gonna let your mom sleep in, okay? I’ve got it.” He drops his lips to the crown of her head, taking a long breath in as he shuffles out to the kitchen. And he does have it under control, after all, he knows how to follow a recipe.
He keeps her close in one arm, only fumbling a little with the one-handed bottle into the microwave production, but he manages. And then onto the couch and honestly, he thinks it’s a little holy, it certainly feels that way. Watching her eyes slip shut in contentment as she drinks from the bottle, her tiny gasp and sigh when she’s all done. How could anything ever be as good as this? He doesn’t think it’s possible.
“Think we oughta make breakfast for your mom, huh? You wanna help?” She gurgles over his shoulder as he finishes burping her. He’ll take that as a yes. He maneuvers her high chair into the doorway of the kitchen with about as much grace as his one-handed abilities will allow him, trying hard to stay silent, peering down the hall to make sure she hasn’t woken up yet. Coast clear, he settles their girl into the high chair and gets to work.
There’s a slightly old half of a loaf of brioche on the counter, something he brought home a few days ago, one of Marcus’ new projects. Eggs and milk in the fridge, so his plan is already forming.
“You know, when I first met your mom– you’re a little too young for the details, but– the morning after, I made her french toast. I think it got me a second date.” He whisks up the eggs and milk quick, a pinch of cinnamon like he knows how she likes it.
“I think for a while she was just coming back for the french toast. But I didn’t care, I was just happy that she kept coming back.” Butter melting deep and golden in the pan, and then the silent sizzle and snap of the battered slices of bread frying up perfect. He glances over to their girl in between checking on the bread in the pan.
“You weren’t done, were you, little? I’m sorry, I got you.” A little spit-up down the front of her onesie. He stretches between the stove and her high chair to dab it up with a clean dish towel, not even trying to resist the want to press a kiss to her forehead, earning him an exasperated gurgle from her.
“Already too cool for me, huh?” She smiles, showing off the two new teeth that have only started to come in. He doesn’t think he’s ready for any more teeth to start coming in yet.
He’s just plating up the first few slices when his ears prick to the sound of stirring, what sounds like a stretch groaning in her chest from down the hall. Bare feet padding, stopping at the nursery, he’s sure, and then coming closer, his heart starting to kick up in anticipation.
“Good morning, my bean.” He can hear the kiss she drops to their girl’s cheek, and he chances a glance over to see her bending over the back of the high chair to nuzzle her face into their girl’s, contented giggles bubbling up in her small chest at her mother’s ministrations. His heart stutters stop for a moment before the gears start to turn again in a much better rhythm. But too long of a glance because–
“Oh shit.” The smell of singe, one of the slices burnt up and unsalvageable. He’s quick to scrape it out of the pan. Still plenty to make this right, okay, not perfect though. He was going for perfect.
“What’s all this?” She’s being quiet, not looking at him as she gathers their girl out of the high chair and into her arms, a small sway side to side.
“I, um, breakfast– you hungry?”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Go sit, I’ll get it.”
“Did she–”
“Yeah, I fed her.” She’s finally looking at him, bewilderment rounding and widening her eyes, though she quietly nods and shuffles through the kitchen. A soft graze past him and toward the small dining table they have set up in front of the windows, now letting in the first honeyed light of the morning.
Two slices, steam still rising and melting down a sliver of butter. Syrup on the side because she doesn’t like it to get soggy. And a plate for himself too because he knows she’ll tell him to eat, even as mad at him as she is now.
She keeps their girl in her lap, her arm curled around the soft round of her belly to hold her upright, and he can’t help but smile, sitting down across from them. A small sigh with her first bite and it feels like the greatest relief, something slackening beneath his ribs.
“I didn’t play fair last night. I’m sorry, Carm.” Always beating him to the punch, he hates that she’s apologizing.
“No, you were right. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m gonna make some changes, okay?” She sighs, her lashes dropped to the tops of her cheeks, not buying it. And he doesn’t blame her, he’s talked about changes in the past. Though the changes have yet to happen.
“Baby, I’m serious. I’m gonna talk to Sugar today and get this figured out. Not gonna keep messing this up.”
“You aren’t messing up, Carmen. I know how important that restaurant is to you. And maybe it’s selfish, but I just want you here more, with us. You’re missing so much, and I don’t want that for you.” Their girl chooses that moment to start to squirm in her hold, pressing the dough of her palms into the edge of the table to stand up in her mother’s lap, turning around and wrapping her small arms around her mother’s neck, making a smile get big and bright on her face as she smacks a string of kisses on her cheek, a quiet thank you, my bean. Missing things like this, he thinks. His heart aches with it.
“Nothing is more important than this. I think when she came– I was just like– holy shit, you know?” Her smile tempers, settling on him as she continues to accommodate the squirms and shuffling of their girl in her lap.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with that feeling.”
“This isn’t an excuse, I know it isn’t. But, I don’t know, I think I believed that if I could just work harder, make sure the restaurant was good and money was coming in that– that it’d somehow make me feel less terrified.”
“Terrified?”
“Of getting this all wrong. I just– Jesus Christ, I want everything for her.” There’s more he’d like to say, but he cuts himself off with a resigned laugh, holding his head in his hand as he watches their girl twist around in her mother’s arms again, looking at him now like somehow she knows he’s talking about her. And then a small hand reaching out across the table. Small hand reaching for him.
She gets up with a sigh, rounding the edge of the table, an easy pass-off, their girl’s hands grasping at his t-shirt, the same one he came home in last night. He holds her close, taking another deep inhale of the crown of her head before looking up at her mom. Her mom, his woman, his partner, who carefully runs her fingers back through his mussed hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.
“There are so many people also working to make sure that restaurant is good, Carm, and it is. But I– we need you here, we just do.” Her palm slips down along his cheek, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the center of it. A much smaller hand tugs at his curls to get his attention, making him laugh as he drops a kiss to their girl’s temple.
“You’re right. This is where I need to be. I don’t want you having to do this on your own anymore.” He gets up with a sigh, hiking their girl onto his hip, reaching out for her with his other arm, his fingers curling behind the nape of her neck, a small coaxing that she allows, pressing her forehead against his.
“We’re gonna do this together, alright? I’m here, and I’m gonna figure out how to keep being here.” An answer in the way her nose brushes along the side of his, an okay. And the realization that he can’t remember the last time they were this close is enough to bridge what space is left between them, more of a sigh than a kiss, but he’ll take it. Quick to be interrupted by quiet fussing and a small fist pressing against his cheek, both of them pulling away with a laugh to look at their seemingly perturbed girl.
“I think we’ve made a small monster.” She says it absolutely dripping in affection, her hand coming to brush their girl’s sleep-tufted hair back from her face.
“Maybe, yeah. She’s still fucking perfect though.” He snakes his arm around her waist, pulling her close so their girl is half-sandwiched between them, eyes wide as she babbles up at them both.
“We have to stop saying fuck around her, Carm. It’s gonna end up being her first word.”
“She’ll fit right in at the restaurant that way.”
A small family, a new family, figuring it out in their sun-soaked kitchen. Tired eyes and bare feet and quiet laughs. And there’s going to be more messing up, he already knows that. Both him and her. Passing sorry back and forth, willing and receiving. But this is enough to make it right, to keep going. This can be perfect.
#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto angst#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fic#the bear fanfiction#the bear fic
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⋆ carmen berzatto masterlist ⋆
BLURBS can be found here.
SARDINES
Carmen seems a little off when you visit him, and you try to figure out why. For once, you pry him open.
CINNAMON SUGAR
Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.
LOVE WILL TEAR US APART
You come back to Chicago for the first time since Christmas five years ago. Seeing Carmen might just split you wide open.
part 1 | part 2
THANK YOU VERY MUCH
You pay Carmen a visit after a busy night to give your thanks...with a little extra love.
A NICE NIGHT
Carmen happens to meet a stranger at the party Claire takes him to. A brief conversation is shared during a cigarette break.
THE IN-BETWEEN
Carmen comes home late again and takes you to bed.
MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE
How you become carefully woven into Carmen's life with his little girl, filling his whole heart—and then some.
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#jeremy allen white#masterlist#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto angst#carmy berzatto angst#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmy the bear#the bear#the bear x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx
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The Social Media Manager: The Series (Part 3)
Another installment with a smidge of angst. Six Months Carmy is just very present in my brain...
Moodboard
Part 1: Introductions and Donuts
Part 2: Meetings, Meetings, Meetings
Drinks?
Marcus laughed when Carmy walked into the kitchen with Sharpie covering his wrist and forearm. He’d known that Rusty thought Carmy was cute and that Carmy was stalking her on Instagram, but he didn’t think that Rusty would make the first move. Carmy walked past Marcus into the office and swiftly closed the door behind himself. Marcus shook his head and went to Syd’s station, “Yo. Hear me out, Rusty and Carmy. She’s into him, he’s into her… imma make it happen.” before Marcus could further explain his scheme on getting Rusty and Carmy together, Syd laughter cut him off.
“Marcus, you shouldn’t do anything- do you really want your best friend hooking up with Carmy? You saw how he treated Claire. Do you want that for Rusty?” she challenged Marcus, “I like Rusty, and I want to be friends with her- if she and Carmy start dating and Carmy bitches out on her, I can’t be friends with her.”
Before Marcus could respond, Syd further explained, “Marcus, do you really want your best friend to date your boss? Imagine you go over to Rusty’s place—Carmy's there. You ask her to hang out, and Carmy comes. Oh, you wanna go on a double date with her; Carmy would be there. You can’t complain to your best friend about Carmy anymore because that’s her boyfriend. What if Rusty breaks up with him? Would Carmy take it out on you? Maybe not intentionally, but we both know he would.”
Marcus sighed and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall, “I think he’d be good for Rusty.”
~
You groaned as you dug through her closet that night. Tonight was supposed to just be a chill night out, but you had to mess it up by inviting Carmy. You finally found the white tank top you’d been looking for. You pulled your oversized shirt off and threw it onto your bed before pulling the tank top on; you adjusted your boobs and were satisfied with the way they looked. Now you just had to find the right bottoms. Would jeans be too casual? Would a skirt be too much? Maybe shorts? You huffed in frustration and pushed through your drawers looking for the right bottoms.
After meticulously applying your makeup and ensuring your hair was neatly styled, you were satisfied with your appearance for the night. “Rusty! You ready?” you heard your friend Sara yell as she walked into your apartment. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” you laughed as you joined her in the living room.
“This Carmy guy has a chokehold on you, huh?” Sara laughed as she looked you up and down. You shrugged and grabbed your jean jacket from the back of the couch. “I don’t think he’s coming, but just in case…” you explained as Sara rolled her eyes and went on a rant about how there were never cute guys at The White Rabbit. You nodded occasionally as the two of you waited for your Uber.
Your phone vibrated in your pocket to display a text from Carmy.
See you @ 11
~
Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Carmy meticulously scrubbing his station. It was almost 11 PM, and he knew that Carmy had agreed to meet Rusty at some bar. He should have left by now, so why was he still at The Bear.
“Yo Carm. Thought you were meeting up with Rusty.” Marcus said, pulling at the sides of his apron awkwardly. Carmy shook his head, “Yeah- uh, not doing that.” he said as he dragged a dry microfiber towel across the stainless steel counter he’d been scrubbing.
“Did you tell her that?” Carmy ignored the question and went into the office. Marcus huffed as his face scrunched up; he couldn’t let this douchebag hurt his best friend. “Marcus. Don’t do somethin’ stupid.” Tina warned from her station when she noticed his shoulders square up. Marcus shook his head and went into the office. Carmy sat at the desk going through papers; Marcus couldn’t help but notice his phone was next to him, lighting up with text messages from Rusty. Marcus frowned, “Are you seriously gonna ignore my best friend? She’s fuckin’ gorgeous and funny and kind and too fuckin’ good for you! Don’t treat her like how you treated Claire. Rusty isn’t the kind of girl who begs men to like her. Men beg her to like them, and for whatever reason, she likes you. I don’t care if you’re my boss- I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”
Carmy stared at him and ran his tongue across his top lip; he shook his head and went back to his paperwork. “Carmen. Don’t fuck this up. Y/N means everything to me.” Marcus sighed before exiting the office.
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto one shot#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto angst#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto angst#marcus the bear#marcus brooks#the bear fic#the bear imagine#the bear one shot
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i wouldn’t ask you
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”
Part I Part II
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing
A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3
Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work.
At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic.
The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so.
“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform.
“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise.
“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“
“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?”
You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time.
“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple.
Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time.
“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney.
“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it.
Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you.
He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that.
He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway.
“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too.
“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible.
“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.
“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“
“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.”
He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue.
You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard.
You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home.
You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him.
“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly.
“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out.
Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset.
“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“
“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out.
He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment.
You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him.
He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest.
“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff.
“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”
“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind.
He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait.
“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.”
Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices.
“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much.
You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you.
You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you.
“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.
“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.”
You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.
“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.”
It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression.
“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.”
All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-
“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.”
His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.
“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice.
“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.
You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go.
a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt
#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto angst#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#hurt/comfort#angst#my writing#the shrimp that fried that rice
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