#carmy berzatto drabble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanasnx · 7 months

Text

"scuffling."

MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 0.8k | CHARACTERS: carmy berzatto x gn!reader NOTES: for @mcondance i do not write for carmy, pls do not talk to me about him. i just felt generous enough for a gift and ive seen the first season of the bear and a bit of the second. WARNINGS: sexual content | severe impact play | violence | not proofread | not 100% confident on carmy's characterization | no y/n

CARMY BERZATTO knows he's got a lot of shit going on in his head. Too much to keep track of, stray thoughts that can't be pinned down. When he's overwhelmed, everything's heightened. Like an attack dog, a ringing in his ears calls him back to his trainer. Except he's got no trainer, he's got no one. He's got him. It's not that that ringing makes him aggressive, it's not a Pavlov, that ringing reminds him of how he gets when he's angry. Exasperation layering over itself, building the tsunami. He's been told he's a dick, that he's a real asshole when he gets like this. But no one else is inside his head.

Not like you, anyway. You're about as close as they come, and you don't even know it. He doesn't know how you do it. You absorb that wrath— and you may come out swinging— but you never leave the kitchen. Miraculously, you don't quit. Even when he thinks you should. Even after he's thrown your experimental crème fraîche onto the floor. You hounded after him, but you still got your ass back to work.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, one more time. Just to be sure. Even though he's boiling over, arms pulsing as he forms fists and shakes them out.

You don't give him an answer. Behind the Beef it's dark out, but you've waited all day to give him a piece of your mind. Well, a piece of you at least. The entire power of your body is put behind a punch, but he jerks out of the way. The knuckle of your thumb grazes the skin of his cheek, and now he's in your space. Rough hands shove at your chest, slamming your back into the concrete wall. The bones of your spine rattle against it, and you reorient too late. He grabs your shoulders, bringing you in to connect his knee to your stomach. You double over, clutching it.

Through strain, you manage a chuffed, "Fuck you, Carmy,"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? C'mon," That roar in his ears is unbearable, driving his actions, taunting you with beckoning hands. In his distraction, you throw another punch that he, again, dodges. "Haven't learned—" His own grunt interrupts him as the point of your elbow sling-shots into the back of his head. Falling forward, his eyes squeeze shut, but he runs into you. So his arms wrap around your torso as he goes down, his shoulder sinking into your chest as you land underneath him on the ground. It's cold, it's hard. Your head aches.

He picks himself up, straddling you. Adrenaline imbued within your beings, blood rushing to fill out everything. Every vein itching to be stretched and used. You weakly claw at him that, for the most part, he redirects by slapping your wrists away. When you get a hold of the straps of his apron, you yank him down, and he catches himself over you. The heels of his hands dig into grovel, scratching up his skin. In a last ditch effort, you jerk your head up, forehead-to-forehead, both of you suffer after impact. A joint groan of pain sounds between the two of you, and in his haze you roll him over. You see red, pressing your lips into a thin line, blowing hot air through flared nostrils. A pink mark blooms on his skin where your heads connected, and your fists bang against his chest.

It becomes a game of rolling around in the fucking dirt and grime, filthying yourselves in the scuffle. Until in between hitting each other, you're tearing at clothes. Prying open buckles and buttons. Fingers brace onto your hips, restricting your movements, burning you from his grip as you take it upon yourself to mount him. In the middle of this fucking alley, you're sinking down onto his cock. And when he tells you to quit fucking around, you grace him with a resounding slap.

His large hand plants on your face, shoving you backwards unceremoniously. "Watch it!" he tells you. His teeth bite into the skin past his lower lip as he throws his head back.

"Shut the fuck up." you chide, resuming the rhythm of your hips. Acting like you fucking needed this as you double over, fisting his shirt for purchase, winding your fingers in it tight as you ride him. He palms your tailbone, slamming you down deep onto him.

"I should fucking kill you—" Your hand claps against his mouth to quiet him.

"I don't wanna fucking hear your voice right now, just take it."

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ohcaptains · 3 months

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So like the video of Gordon Ramsay when the girl burns her hand, all the “that’s it- deep breath- calm down- good girl- goooood girlllll” but like…it’s Carmy and you’ve burnt your hand and he’s screaming at Richie to get some ice but he’s speaking to you so gently but so in control and you almost forget your hand is still sizzling

he moves fast. pulls you to the sink, yelling, “richie get out of the fucking way,” and you can feel your heart beat in your hand. it’s pulsating, swear you can smell your flesh burning, and carmen is frantic. that man has never known peace, but this is raw kind of rush — panic a literal, physical thing.

“fuck, cousin, what’s the rush for—“ he starts, ready to fight, but he must see carmen holding your sizzling hand, and your pained, tense face, because he puts his hands up.

“whoa, man—what happened?”

carmen ignores him, and guides your hand under the tap, holding your wrist gently in his tatted palm. you hiss as soon as it touches the luckwarm water, and carmen nods his head, and gently says, “shh, i know.”

you hide your face with your elbow, but peak over and watch as water runs over your charred hand. duck fat will do that. you must make a sound, as carmen nods, and calmly orders, “relax your hand for me. come on, unclench. thereee we go, sweetheart. that’s it.”

richie pipes up, “i’m literally first aid trained, let me see,” and carmen’s face scrunches up, “can you shut the fuck up for a second?” he spits over his shoulder. you whine into your elbow, and carmen’s demeanor switches. he rubs your wrist, his voice soft and sweet as he coos, “just breathe, take a deep breath. you’re good, that’s it. unclench your hand for me again, i know it hurts but relax—thaaat’s it, goood. good girl, good.”

#carmen berzatto #actually obsessed with this thank u angel #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto drabble

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neonovember · 11 months

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Carmen definitely has black cat energy, maybe more akin to something like a stray cat (saying that lovingly) but definitely is more cat boyfriend than dog boyfriend. Have to leave him alone and gain his trust and then he’ll be curious about you, and then won’t leave you alone 🥰😭

this is completely true, carmen is kinda stand-offish and reserved at first and he is horrible at replying and calling you back because let’s face it he doesn’t really know how to communicate properly. but even after all that, all of that distance and reservations you force him to come out.

you drag him to a nice hole in the wall lunch spot, you take him for drinks, and then something just clicks in Carmen. Once he realises you aren’t going to leave him stranded he completely opens himself to you, and don’t try and tell me he wouldn’t be the most clingy mf after 😭 this man is literally a toddler yall!

So why not a little drabble down below? A sneak peak if you will. it’s likes 200 worth of word vomit and there’s allusion to smut to enjoy ;)

The busy streets of the farmers market spilled into the morning traffic, as Carmen rushes between crowds with two cups of coffee grasped against his chest.

They burned, really fucking bad, probably searing a third degree burn right under his pelvis but god did he not care, his legs ran with the wind behind them as he tried making it back to your shared apartment as quick as possible.

He had only left the warm bed where you lay 10 minutes ago, only after you had thought about ‘how good a coffee would be snuggled up here’ and Carmen had shouldered on a flimsy fleece jacket and his house slippers before racing out of the house to fulfill your request.

He didn’t regret it now, but he could practically feel his skin itch with a desire to feel you against him again. There had been a celebratory dinner of sorts for the beef after it got recognised as Chicago’s up and coming restaurant of the decade. Carmen couldn’t wait till you both made it to your apartment and just took your right there in the backseat of his car that now stood stationary in the parking lot.

Carmen can still taste you on his tongue and now he’s grateful he took a much needed day off to spend it with you.

Opening the apartment door, the smell of melted butter and grease washes over Carmen’s senses. Flipping of his slippers, Carmen past the kitchen, where used dishes lay on the stove top and the ingredients for pancakes lay open.

“Baby? I got our coffee?” Carmen yells out, and when there is no answer a sweat begins to break on Carmen’s forehead.

“H-honey? You there!?” Carmen yells louder, looking through the living room before entering the bedroom with haste.

“I’m right here Carmy, it’s alright” The sweet saccharine melody of your voice pulls Carmen from whatever fear inducing nightmare he fell into.

You’re here, back where your supposed to be. Wrapped around the covers that smelled of the both of you.

“Made us pancakes” You smile, the sun streaming in through the linen curtains so they dusted all over your gorgeous face.

If Carmen could shift his eyes away from you (which he can’t) he would see the pretty tower of pancakes dripping with syrup and berries plated on the bedside table. Hell, if he saw how well done they were you feared the coffee might get thrown across the room and Carmen will drag you up to his face.

“Got us coffee” Carmen whispered, placing them to the side, forgotten as his mind was consumed with feeling you against him.

“Just get in here already” You giggle, before the sheets are thrown to the side and the warmth of Carmen’s body encapsulates you once again.

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collecting-stories · 1 year

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Blueberry BBQ - Carmen Berzatto

Request: no.

Summary: reader works at The Bear balancing their books and has a major crush on Carmy but they never talk aside from business. A dinner party brings them closer together.

A/N: Just some nonsensical drabble cause I love Carmy.

The Bear Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

“Are you making that bbq sauce for the burgers this time?” Marcus asked, turning away from his chocolate cake for a split second to look at you.

Mikey had hired you a week before he died to help balance the books at the Beef. After he was gone Richie stuck you on the counter, waiting on customers like you didn’t have a bachelors in finance, and telling you not to go in the back office. Now that Carmy was around, and attempting to make the Beef float, you were back were you belonged, in the office and away from the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

You were no chef…you’d hesitate to even really call yourself a proper cook…but you knew what you liked and you knew how to make it taste good. “I don’t know…last time Angel complained.” ��

“That’s because Angel puts ketchup on everything like a five year old,” Tina called from her station, the distinct chop of onions echoing after her comment.

“What are you making?” Syd asked, adding a quick, “behind” as she passed Tina to grab a pot.

“It’s Sunday night dinner,” Marcus replied, ignoring the headshake Tina gave him. No real offence to Sydney but you knew she’d tell Carmy and whether or not he actually would come, you kind of didn’t want the pressure of thinking he might show up. Even with your job at The Beef you were far from understanding the “food world” but you’d tried Carmy’s cooking a few times and it was leagues better than anything you attempted on a good day. There was no way you wanted him even thinking you set foot in a kitchen, let alone trying something you made.

“Sunday night dinner?” Syd echoed.

And then the cursed, “what’s Sunday night dinner?” Carmy’s voice. He’d come in from a smoke break and you took three large steps back to the office, as if you hadn’t set foot in the kitchen to begin with. Marcus looked at his boss and then at you (wide eyed and trying not to visibly shake your head at him) and then back to Carmy.

“It’s uh,”

“Nothing.” Tina cut in. “It’s nothing. Get back to work eh, Jeff?”

“Yeah,” Carmy looked like he wanted to say something else but instead just nodded, blue eyes a little glazed, “yeah.”

In the comfort of the office, you get back to work on payroll for the week, slipping your airpods in to drown out the sounds of the kitchen. Just over the softer lull of Evermore you could hear Carmy yell at Richie, his brother’s best friend shouting right back. It wasn’t always (or ever) the best environment for working but you liked it. You liked it when Mike was working there and you somehow managed to like it a little more now that Carmy was running the show, though that could just be that you liked Carmy. Outside of work, you didn’t have too many conversations but he was pretty to look at and you liked the brief interactions the two of you had, even if it was just asking about accounts and other boring stuff he didn’t have the patience for on his own.

The whole incident (that might be an over exaggeration of the event though you’d honestly be tempted to call it a debacle and it probably wasn’t that either) had been mostly forgotten by the time the dinner rush was rolling around and you were clocking out. More than thrilled to both be home before dark and to continue your mostly Carmy-free shift. He was so busy out in the kitchen and fighting with Richie that you hadn’t seen him. Though by now you were positive he had forgotten the mention of Sunday night dinner.

You waved to Syd, promised to text Marcus, and slipped out the back door into the alley. If you went out the front Richie would stop you and then you’d be listening to his bullshit for another hour (at least).

“Sneaking out?” Carmy’s tone was teasing and you spun around to find him sitting on a milk crate, smoking what was probably his sixth or seventh cigarette of the day.

“Didn’t wanna hear about Richie’s date,” you shrugged, the strap of your backpack digging at your collar momentarily when your shoulder went up and then dropped back into place.

“It was a bust.”

You nodded, “kinda feel bad for him,” you mused. You didn’t hate Richie, in fact you found him kind of funny. Even when he’d kicked you out of the office and relegated you to the counter you’d liked him too much to complain.

“You wanna date him?” Carmy asked, raising a brow as if he was issuing some kind of challenge.

“Oh, I don’t feel that bad.” You laughed.

Carmy smiled and you were ready to say goodnight when he opened his mouth again. Maybe you should have gone the front way. “So what’s this Sunday night dinner?”

You shook your head as if the whole ordeal wasn’t that major to begin with. Maybe if it sounded lame, if you sounded like you weren’t that bothered with it, Carmy wouldn’t want to go. Not that you thought he wanted to spend his time off the clock hanging out with you. “Oh it’s nothing, I’m just…making dinner for like, Marcus and Tina and everybody.”

He frowned. An actual, eyebrows scrunched, hooded eyes drooped, frown. “You cook?”

“Not, no, not like…I mean…it’s probably cardboard compared to you.” You laugh, “not that I’m, ya know…comparing myself to you or anything.” You replied, stumbling slightly over your words.

“Must be pretty good…everybody’s going.”

“Well, anyone’s invited…I mean, if you wanted to come you could. I think Marcus is bringing some dessert and Tina and Ebraheim usually bring something too.” You shrugged again, an impulsive movement as you tried to make yourself sound cool and collected. It was just Carmy…the guy looked like he was homeless, he shouldn’t be as intimidating as he was.

“What are you making?”

“It’s just burgers.” You replied, downplaying the fact that you’d specifically overpaid for waygu beef because Marcus claimed it tasted better. Who were you to know.

“I’ll bring something.” The offer sounded more like a sure statement. Not only would he be there but he would bring something.

“Okay…” you trailed off, “well, see you tomorrow.”

You were pretty sure you’d never left The Beef so quickly in your entire life. Sunday was supposed to be a relaxing day off and an attempt to actually be somewhat sociable because god knows quarantine was rough, even with a steady job.

But now Sunday was just anxiety bubbling in your stomach while you made the plum bbq glaze that Marcus liked so much. You’d imagined nothing more than calling up your mom to complain about how often you put your foot in your mouth but as you reached for the telephone you realized the only one around to listen to you talk about this weird crush you had on Carmy was your cat. The monster in question was a long haired black cat that the lady on the top floor had adopted before covid. She’d named him Rigoletto after the Italian opera and then decided she didn’t want him anymore.

“That place down the street is hiring…although I’m not so sure I wanna work at an H&R Block.” You mused, scratching under Rigoletto’s chin before leaving him on the arm of the couch to finish the bbq sauce. “And I do really like the Beef…but what if Carmy hates this? And he fires me or something…is that crazy?”

The cat didn’t have the chance to answer because the buzzer by your door went off. It was a little too early for anybody who usually showed up to arrive though you suspected it could be Syd (she’d been invited now too, along with Richie who had to decline because it was his Sunday with his daughter).

You hit the button to unlock the front door without confirming who was there. Not a great habit but you were technically expecting someone and you tended to get a little lax with security every now and then. You propped the door to your apartment so that whoever you’d buzzed (Syd surely, maybe Ebraheim) would be able to just come right in.

But as luck would have it, it wasn’t Syd that came through the door to your apartment. It was Carmen, holding two foil trays cause he promised he’d bring something (and okay, sure, maybe he over did himself for just a hang out in your apartment but so sue him if he wasn’t trying to impress you).

“Hey uh…your cat looks like it’s gonna climb me.” He half greeted, half warned, staring down at the cat that had jumped off the couch and come over to greet him. Yellow eyes stared up at his blue ones, back hunched like it was ready to pounce and Carmy briefly imagined the cat jumping right into the trays in his hands.

Before any worst case scenarios could happen you scooped the cat up in your arms, apologizing and telling Carmy he could lay the trays on the small island in your kitchen. “He’s super friendly,” you promised though you left him in your room and closed the door, “he’s a big fan of Chester.”

“Marcus’ roommate?” Carmy almost laughed.

“Yeah he uh, what are you doing?” You speedwalked the short distance back to the kitchen when you realized that Carmy had moved over to inspect the sauce you were making, spooning a tiny bit out and taking a bite.

“It’s good, maybe a little maple syrup?” He offered, as if this was The Beef’s test kitchen. Without waiting for your okay he went to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a bottle of maple syrup. You wondered briefly if he had some sort of psychic sense that let him know you had maple syrup on hand or if Carmy just expected all the ingredients he needed to be right where he needed them at all times. “What’s this?”

“It’s salad dressing,” you supplied, shifting awkwardly as he shook the bottle of salad dressing he’d plucked off the shelf.

You watched him pop the lid and stick a clean butter knife in the jar, pulling it out and taste testing the dressing. This was objectively worse than you imagined inviting Carmy to your house would be. “Shit, that’s fire.”

You could feel your face heat up at the compliment, though that was immediately out of your mind as Carmy continued his inspection of your fridge. When he started eyeing a tupperware of soup from last night, you reached over and closed the door on him, “okay; let’s be finished going through my fridge?”

“Sorry,” he held his hands up in surrender, the bottle of dressing still in one hand. “I didn’t know you cooked.” It was the same thing he’d said to you earlier though it didn’t hold the same genuine surprise as it had earlier. Instead, he looked almost contemplative, as if finding something out about you that he hadn’t known before meant something you weren’t aware of.

“Nothing serious,” you promised, going back to check on the burgers and looking back at Carmy, “would you…check these. I know it sounds dumb but, cooking meat gives me anxiety.”

“It gives you anxiety?” He said it like he was trying not to laugh, a smile threatening his features as he set the dressing back in the fridge and came over to stand a little too close to you.

“If you don’t cook it enough you could kill someone and if you cook it too much it’s gross,” you replied, glancing half over your shoulder at him as he leaned in to check the state of the burgers.

“Alright…if you let me try the soup.”

You caved, “fine.” Passing the wooden spatula and stepping to the side. “If Marcus asks, I totally cooked them myself.”

Carmy nodded, grinning, “yeah alright.”

Cooking with him, without the imminent pressure of a working kitchen, was more fun than you imagined it would be. When you’d wandered into the kitchen area of the Beef back when Mike was still around, he was always joking and talking shit with Richie. Carmy didn’t necessarily run a tighter ship but he was more serious about food and cooking and there was less time for bullshitting. You assumed the quiet intensity was how he always was but you realized that was an unfair judgement. He was relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen him be, that confidence in his food coming through with quiet remarks about this meal or that, shitty food he’d eaten while he was working in New York and stories about the CIA.

By the time everyone had finished eating and gone home, leaving you with a mess of plates and cutlery, you were a little tipsy but genuinely happy. It hadn’t been as stressful as you were making it out to be in your mind and Carmy relaxed on a Sunday night was completely different from Carmy in the kitchen at work.

“You have a system or?” His voice broke your train of thought as you wiped the last crumbs off the table and realized that he was standing at your sink, kitchen towel over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to help me clean up,” you tossed the crumbs and came over to the sink, “I mean you fixed the burgers.”

“I didn’t ‘fix’ them,” he almost looked like he was gonna laugh. “I just helped them along.”

“Well either way, you shouldn’t have to clean up too.”

“I don’t mind.” He promised, “now, you got a system?”

“Not really,” you shook your head, “but I don’t have a dishwasher so everything’s by hand.”

“I got time.” Carmy promised and you couldn’t help feeling like your heart was going to thud right out of your chest, “besides you promised me some of that soup.”

“You just ate like a whole meal Carm, you’re not seriously gonna have soup at midnight are you?” You asked though honestly you didn’t think you would be surprised if the answer was that yes, he would have soup at midnight.

“Yeah if it’s good,” he joked.

You shook your head, not answering and instead focusing your attention on drying dishes too large to fit in the rack beside your sink. The frying pan went back on the stove with the pot beside it. While Carmy finished the very last of the dishes you let Rigoletto out of your bedroom, the cat stretching languidly as he appraised the room.

“My mom had a cat once,” he mentioned, eyeing Rigoletto as he approached the kitchen area, “ended up giving it to the neighbor cause it jumped on the counters all the time. Nothing like cat hair in your chicken picante.”

“Rigoletto’s too fat to make it to the counter.” You replied, “if he did I’d be too impressed to be upset with him.”

“What are you doing?” Carmy watched you curiously as you got a bowl out of the cabinet and grabbed a bag of granola.

“Homemade granola,” you shook the bag, “it’s for the top of the soup.” When he didn’t say anything you added, “just trust me.”

“It’s your recipe.”

“I feel like that wasn’t as confident sounding as I wanted it to be,” you laughed, passing the heated up bowl across the counter to him, granola sprinkled over the top, “it’s apple and brie soup.”

“Apple?”

“Okay, like you’ve made some weird fucking shit before Carm. Don’t act like this is the craziest thing you’ve ever heard of.”

He raised his hands in surrender, spoon teetering between his fingers briefly before he was leaning forward to take a bite. “To be fair, I rarely see you even near the kitchen at work.”

“Well I’m not as good as anyone there, I just like trying different stuff on my own time.”

“This is really good,” he mentioned, taking another spoonful, “you have a recipe?”

“Yeah, I have a notebook somewhere.” You weren’t a hundred percent sure where you’d placed your notebook though you knew it was floating around somewhere in the apartment.

“Show me?” He asked, then, “not right now…just whenever.” The request was vague and you knew that ultimately you could just take it to mean showing him the actual handwritten recipe that you used to make the soup that he was almost finished eating but it could also mean actually cooking with him. Something that, 24 hours ago would have definitely scared the shit out of you. Cooking with someone like Carmy? That was out of the question.

“When do you ever have free time?” You kept the question light, a joke more than an observation of his life, “I was surprised you came tonight.”

“I thought about not coming,” he shrugged, “figured if you wanted me to you woulda asked yourself but…” the sentence teetered off and you took a few seconds silence to really weigh how your relationship with Carmen looked from his end.

“Sorry, it’s not that you aren’t invited or anything…just that you’re kinda intimidating and if you were coming over than I’d wanna impress you and if I didn’t at least make edible food I’d be embarrassed.”

“It could use a little fine-tuning but it’s not bad by any stretch.”

“Okay,” you almost laughed at the bluntness of his statement. Ask him anything else and he clammed up but ask him about food and he was direct.

“Sorry I-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shook your head quickly, wanting him to understand that you weren’t at all bothered by the comment. Maybe if you were in an actual professional in a kitchen...you’d heard him and Syd go at it before over a dish and you knew that Carmy could be mean when he was in ‘kitchen-mode’. “I mean, aside from you, the only people who eat what I cook are like...my parents. And what are they gonna say?”

Carmy didn’t say anything, taking the empty bowl and placing it in the sink. He looked like he wanted to say more but instead he reached for his coat, “thanks for letting me invite myself.”

“Hey, anytime you wanna come over...” You admitted. Tonight hadn’t been as scary as you thought it was and, in all honesty, you kind of liked having Carmy here. Getting to see him more relaxed was nice and cooking with him was somehow better. “Besides, I promised to show you the soup.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. Trying to fix the Beef, pay off Jimmy, and generally just exist didn’t leave a whole lot of free time but he didn’t think he would mind making some just so he could stand around in your kitchen with you again. It felt almost the way he used to feel when Mike was still alive and everything still had a layer of candy-coating on it. That sort of simple, ‘if I don’t leave this moment nothing can go wrong’ feeling that tightened his chest and made him feel warm.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” You phrased it like a question but it was a fact.

“Tomorrow.” He agreed. The possibility of it already making him eager for the morning.

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xblackreader · 12 days

Text

• Sydney and Carmy’s play-fight.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It started with Sydney trying to force him to admit he’s a celebrity in the culinary world at the very least.

“No, I’m fucking not, I go shopping without being approached. I walk down the street, I don’t sign autographs.”

She groans and her eyes roll back into her head, “Oh my god, I literally never named those examples! You’re a celebrity! You were on fucking Top Chef!”

He hides his blush at this flattery with a hand over his lips, “Oh my god— Syd, whatever.” He gets up to go refill their chip bowl, a random dish he found under the sink to put the snacks she brought. Very grown up.

“Literally just admit it!” She laughing and he’s holding back a smile, he thought she’d jump up to chase him but her hands wrap around his palm instead and it sends goosebumps under his forearm hairs.

“Syd, let go,” he laughs, tugging her across the floor, “I gotta get the fucking chips!”

“You’re just avoiding the question!”

“It’s my apartment, I can do that if I want.”

she plants her feet into the carpet and he topples over at the tension, landing roughly on the couch with an oomph! before he can get his bearings she has a leg on his stomach, shoving a pillow into his face,

“You broke- ah my heart, Carmen.” She imitates in her best Pacino impression and he snorts because he laughs at every joke she tells. He wishes he could be offended at the exaggerated Italian accent.

His head turns to the side as she attempts to smother him with the cushion, “G- get—! Get off of— that’s it!” Her laughter turns into a shriek when he tugs the pillow from her and grabs her wrist, twirling it so she lands on her butt. Rolling off the sofa, and on top of her he narrowly avoids her socked feet on his chest and her laughter is so contagious he actually wheezes.

“Uncle.”

“W- what?”

“Say uncle syd.”

“Admit you’re a celebrity!”

He lands a soft poke to her neck testing the waters and when she curls in on her shoulders he knows he’s won. Another poke to her stomach and side before she catches on to his plan, her eyes widening like a baby dear, the way only hers did.

“Fuck! You’ve discovered my only weakness!”

“Your blaring praise kink?” He pauses to say, avoiding a kick toward his crotch, thank god.

“Not too much.” Her hands are gathered to tickle him back only to realize he isn’t ticklish, she looks like a soldier with no ammo on the front lines at this revelation and he borrows her snort.

His pokes become full on tickle, simultaneously avoiding her long super model legs and the hands that are pounding rather ridiculously at his biceps, she’s nearly crying.

“This could all end with you saying Uncle!”

“Never! Trust y- you will be dealt with!”

Her leg wraps around his hip and he catches it with one hand. Seeing this distraction as an opening she reaches for his neck, but he grabs both arms and forces them to the ground.

The laughter stops.

Bloods pumping to all the wrong parts and he knows she can feel it.

He freezes unable to release her wrists or honestly, breathe. Fuck, he’s ruined it. He ruined this. The easy back and forth that he had managed to reassemble after being a complete fuck up for a full year is ruined.

“Syd—“

“Admit it.”

His eyes search her face only to find her fingers wiggling where he’s holding her wrists, lips parted and a coy smile building with passing seconds. “Admit you’re a celebrity.”

For a moment he doesn’t respond and she fears she mistook his body’s reaction to his wants—

“Say fucking Uncle.”

Parallel chests heaving. One solid and one slight.

She searches his face to find the ring of blue in his eyes nearly gone, his eyes flickered down and he licked his lips.

“Make me.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

reblog, like comment and follow </3

#sydcarmy #syd x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear tv #Drabble #fanfiction

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onestopfanficshop · 2 years

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being in a relationship with carmy: pregnancy edition

warnings/author's note: fem reader, language, one y/n is dropped but i think it's needed (at least i hope) 😟 bitches says they hate pregnancy tropes then go and write stuff like this (it's me i’m bitches)

gif is mine <3

carmy has zero experience with babies. literally NONE. if he's being totally honest with himself, they kind of scare him.

i know a lot of people have super creative pregnancy reveals and stuff, but i honestly feel like this would just be quiet and unplanned tbh. you would be in the bathroom. it's been over half an hour and you've peed on at least 5 of them now. you're looking at the digital display of the fifth test and it reads the exact same as the other four: Pregnant

meanwhile Carmy's in the kitchen and he hasn't even thought to himself where you’ve gone because he's in the zone

you call carmy’s name like three times before he finally hears you, comes over, and you quietly tell him it's unlocked and he come in

he comes in sweaty, hair all messy, towel tucked into the strings of his apron, and he's smiling at you until he sees the look on your face

"you okay, hon?"

you just wordlessly hand him one of the tests and he looks at it

reaction one: *silently stares at the test without blinking for at a good full minute*

reaction two: "how many of these did you take, honey? ...five? shit. okay."

reaction three: him sitting on the edge of the bath tub across from you and just looking at you

"are you okay? does it hurt?"

"not yet," you joke.

"i know it's unexpected, but… i think we're ready. we’re gonna be okay, yeah?"

and he just hugs you and you two stay like that for a while :,)

after your first trimester is over you finally start telling everyone (and i feel like carmy would love those three months of you two just keeping it to yourselves)

he doesn't care about the baby's gender as long as their healthy, but i feel like deep down, in a small crevice of my heart, that carmy is a girl dad

sugar would be the first person you told. she would most definitely cry and you hug you super tight before pulling away and saying "ohmygod! i shouldn't have hugged you that tight! did i hurt the baby??" to which you would laugh and assure her the baby couldn't feel anything. she would be so over the moon excited for you and carmy

michael would be the first person carmy tells. he drove down to his grave, but when he got there, it took him a little while to get out of his car.

"i know i haven't been down to visit you in a while, mike. m'sorry about that, i just... i dunno. the restaurant's keeping me busy, i guess. god, i wish you could've seen the place, mikey. we kept some of your plaques from the old office, put it in the new one. we, uh, we called it "mikey's corner" and... it just helps, y'know? having you be a part of it, a part of the bear. (y/n)'s keeping me pretty busy, too. that's why i came here, to talk to you, because.... she's pregnant. and to be honest with you, mikey? i'm scared. i'm fuckin' terrified, mikey, and i'm not even the one carrying the goddamn baby. i'm scared that i won't be a good dad. i just-- i love her so much, and she deserves that, y'know. she deserves the world. they both do. god, it feels fucking wierd to say that. it feels like now, my heart, it's... it's gonna be split in two different places. does that even make sense? i dunno. but... i know that if you were here, you'd tell me i'd be okay, and that everything's gonna be okay. that i'd be the best dad. and i'd believe you, michael. everything you say has a funny way of comin' true, y'know that? you would've told me i'd be the best dad, and i would've told you that you'd be the best uncle. i mean that. i love you, mikey. i miss you."

everyone at the bear is so excited to see what carmy would be like as a dad, especially tina. she always kisses you on the cheek whenever you walk into the bear and shoos away anyone that comes within a 6 foot radius of you 😭

when you and carmy told richie, he grumbled something about how the kid was gonna be a spoiled brat with unlimited access to free gourmet food??? you assumed that was his way of say congratulations and gave him a big hug anyways

"do you think they'll wanna be a chef like you, bear?" you asked one day.

"oh god. i hope the the fuck not."

sugar constantly dragging you to buy baby clothes! no, seriously. at this point, 80% of the baby clothes you have came from her

"sugar! they're gonna outgrow all of this!"

"who cares!? just make sure you let 'em know their aunt nat bought everything"

carmy secretly hopes the baby looks more like you because he doesn't find himself beautiful or anything (what a silly man 🙄)

he literally would not let you do ANYTHING for yourself 😭 if he sees you lift so much as a finger he freaks out

“carmy, i’m pregnant, not helpless! i promise you i can get myself a glass of water!

“honey, i know you can, i just don’t want you to.”

the delivery would be really hard for him to watch. not because of the blood or anything, but he just hates seeing you in any type of pain or distress

of course when he holds this tiny being that he helped create it's love at first sight

the next one is random but bear with me (pun not intended)

you best BELIEVE carmy is making his baby's food from SCRATCH when it's time to introduce solids. this man would spend hours on his computer after you and the baby were asleep, looking up the best foods to puree for babies and whatnot. he has nothing against pre-made baby food, but this man has two hands, a shit ton of produce, a michaels near by that sells mini mason jars, and a dream

literally just picture this man early in the morning, hair messy, apron on, with a bunch of mini mason jars cradled in his arms, and every vegetable known to man crowding the kitchen island. you're holding the baby on your hip and you're just looking at him like???? even the baby's like 👁👄👁. you just slowly back out of the kitchen and you're like "let's go, sweetheart. daddy's being weird. again."

#carmy berzatto headcanon #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagines #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto headcanon #carmen berzatto fluff #onestopfanficshop

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apinchofm · 1 month

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I wrote my first Sydcarmy drabble. Please clap.

#the bear #i'm obssessed #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #carmy bear #drabble #fluff

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kyloknightren · 1 month

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carmy and syd just sitting outside the back of the restaurant benches on the last days before they part ways (show ending)

they are friendly and smiling sharing stories

i will always love you sydney tells him with a small smile

me too syd carmy with the same sad smile

but they don't say goodbye (immortality by celine dion coded)

i’m ruining my brain even more by imagining sydney and carmy having a moment at one of the restaurant tables during break and a shot of him looking at that spot remembering and smiling.

(song inspiration the alcott by the national)

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newtkive · 3 months

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sweet tooth | luca drabble

just thinking about luca w a partner who has a crazy sweet tooth (like i do) and you never asking for a sweet treat but mentioning it nonchalantly but still not expecting luca to make you something.

first of all, your nickname would probably be sweet tooth or smth similar, let’s be so real. it would start by luca calling you that affectionately, but then it catches on w friends and family and you’re just dubbed sweet tooth.

in general, if you saw some type of dessert on a commercial or a tiktok that had you going ‘oohhh’ luca would scrunch his brows and almost seem jealous. “they used meringue, they should’ve used icing sugar.” he’d scoff judgingly and just see it as a challenge. after he would deem it doable, he’d store the information in his brain and literally make it better at work the next day.

just say the word and he will make it. telling your friends on the phone that macaroons sound good? cool, he wants to practice his piping technique with the biscuits anyways.

a japanese fruit sando? awesome he can make the sweet bread so fast, and the cream is no big deal. in fact he can just whip it up for lunch.

want a hersheys bar? first, that chocolate is trash don’t ever mention it to a european, especially your european chef boyfriend. second, he’ll make you the best stack of milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, and cookies n’ cream bar you’ve ever had (the cookies n cream one is so good, and you’d always say that and it would piss him off). anything to get hershey’s out of your brain.

you see those viral crunchy chocolate and pistachio filled croissants in new york on your phone and groan abt them? he can research the recipe and workshop it for a day or two in the restaurant kitchen, find a cute take out box to present it to you with to give you that full experience you’d get from the real bakery—you just gotta wait. even if it’s a couple days later, it’ll be waiting for you on the table, or pulled out from behind luca’s back as he walks through the door.

to be more specific, maybe at midnight when he doesn’t have work the next day, you guys are up watching a movie or just having pillow talk. saying smth nonchalant abt your cravings like “cookies sound so good right now luca.. don’t they?” your cheek is smushed against his bicep (which you’d much rather eat) so your voice is all cute and mumbled making his heart race.

“mhm.” he’d say. he’s got a lazy smile n a deep chuckle, voice laden w sleep since you’re the night owl and he’s just staying up to spend time with you. “you wan’ me to make some right now? that what you’re saying?” he’s clearly amused, knowing that you don’t expect him to but teasing you nonetheless.

“nono, it’s too late. you’re not allowed to leave anyways.” you would mumble again, arms tightening around his own in a hug. humming happily, a kiss from the chef would land on your head and you kinda forget about the dessert you want but luca doesn’t because he’s a chef and his literal profession is making desserts so why wouldn’t he?? when you want something he can easily make?? like his love language is giving, especially if it’s baking something for someone he loves.

the next day you’d still be asleep and wake up to the smell of cookies. savory was your forte in the morning most times but who could say no to starting their day with a yummy sweet when it’s presented to them, right?

it would take you a second to realize that 1. luca wasn’t wrapped around you like usual, etching a frown into your face, and 2. luca had to be the one making cookies. and he made the best cookies. you’d waste no time in grinning and hopping up to drag yourself to the kitchen. even more of the smell would welcome you, transporting you into some kind of dreamland—and if you really were dreaming you’d be so pissed bc the cookies being pulled out of the oven by your blond messy haired boyfriend look so fucking good right now (aside from the aforementioned boyfriend who is just as, if not more scrumptious than the cookies with only his flannel pants on).

arms would wrap around his waist from behind and luca would laugh muttering “hot pan” but you don’t give a fuck because you want him and those cookies now. if anything your arms tighten and you rub at his stomach sweetly from behind, a sign of affection.

“you made me cookies!” the grin would be so evident in your voice and so infectious that luca beams as he transfers the said cookies onto a pretty dish.

“and who said they were for you?” the tease is obvious and earns an eye roll. you don’t fall for it and he doesn’t expect you to, but you gently nip at his shoulder nonetheless. a dramatic ‘ow!’ comes from the tall man, laced with laughter. you snicker evilly, standing on tip toes to rest your chin on the same shoulder (no matter your height you still gotta do tiptoes bc that man is tall).

soon enough he’d plate the perfect chocolate chip cookies with a dash of sea salt that you spotted, and turn around. it would be your turn to be wrapped in a hug by strong arms, even lifted up a little just to hear your laugh. luca also likes to hear how surprised you get that he can lift you, even though to him you’re weightless.

it wouldn’t be long until you’re begging for a cookie even if he sets you on the counter, stern look as he assures you they’re still cooling off. like hellooo?? who cares?? but he distracts you with soft kisses on your cheeks, leading down to your lips until he pulls away and leaves you wanting more. the mumble from him that, “the cookies are probably cool enough now” has you forgetting your desire for him and replacing it with the golden saucers just waiting for you to demolish them.

hands on his shoulder, you’d firmly push him to the side and hop off the counter. the roll of luca’s eyes would be affectionate and endeared, since you were this excited for his cooking. you were his best customer after all.

your feet would have a mind of their own, floating towards the cookies like a cartoon man levitating towards a pie, lured by the aroma. you start ravaging like a hungry creature. one turns into three as you face your boyfriend, moaning with closed eyes at almost every bite inbetween telling him about what you two did in your dream (he baked you brownies laced with a golden syrup in your dream so you accredit your subconscious to manifesting this).

he would just stand there with a grin, hands on the edge of the sink behind him while leaning on it. usually dreams would be so boring to talk about, but luca swore he could stand there for an eternity just watching you eat his creations and talk about any dream you wanted to share with him.

of course, those cookies would be gone in two days. and in place would be brownies drizzled in a golden syrup that luca took home from work. the surprise would earn him a watery eyed smile, and he’d just shrug and say he had extra time to kill on the evening shift.

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dallianceangel · 5 months

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𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 💋✨

this is a random drabble that i might edit soon 🖤

🎄 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🎄

The office is a complete mess. Carmy could've sworn it wasn't like this when he left work. There's pens and paper scattered all over the floor, and the table has moved a good few inches. It's a complete mystery to him, that is until he checks the security cameras and sees the footage from a few hours ago of you and Richie having sex in the office.

“What the hell?”

It's a crazy pairing to say the least. Carmy was always under the impression that you couldn't stand being around Richie, you even said so yourself, more than once to be exact.

“Hey, do you know where—”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Fak catches sight of the footage playing back on the computer and practically loses his shit. Despite Carmy's best efforts to stop him, Fak spills the beans about it to the entire workforce, including yourself and Richie.

It's safe to say the unexpected romance was the main topic of conversation for weeks.

#the bear #the bear fx #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto #drabbles #fanfic #drabble #txt #neil fak #fanfics #fanfiction

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ohcaptains · 2 years

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jfhdhfjf i just can’t stop thinking about him fucking the newest front of house who’s just really good at her job and he appreciates how easy she is for him when everything else is hard especially when she lets him fuck her when he needs to blow off steam SORRYEYY ?????

Carmy doesn’t know when it happened.

Doesn’t know when it started, but he’s starting to think it’ll never stop. You’re just so…helpful. Good at the till, good with the customers, good at the fancy new coffee machine Carmy had bought (just for you) and good at expediting, when shit got busy, and he needed another hand. Good, good, good, good – fucking brilliant, if you ask Carmy, wasted on a place like The Beef, or The Bear, or the shit hole his brother left him, that he’s trying to make good. Good, good, good. Good at other things, too, like keeping quiet when you’re in his office and he’s fucking you from behind. Or, getting loud when you’d managed to get to his apartment, and he’s saying how thankful he is.

He’s spilling the truth into your mouth when you gasp his name, hitching your legs up higher so he can hit that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll back – makes you go quiet. Until you’re sobbing out how thankful you are. Gripping his curls, nose pushed against his, I like making things easier for you, Carmy. You whisper as you grind into him, I like being good for you. That’s how it starts – this whole good thing.

“Good,” he’d comment when you finished a particularly hard lunch rush. “You did good,” and he’d see it. See the way your face relaxed and feel how he’d want to say it again.

He can’t stop saying it. Can’t stop when it’s after closing and everyone’s gone home. When he’s got you against the door to his office, mouth pushed into your ear, and he’s taking his time, making his strokes deep and steady as he says, so good for me. Such a good fucking girl. I’m not letting you leave this goddamn restaurant – and he kisses you between words, between grunts and groans – not letting you leave my goddamn sight.

#meow hello #sorry this took forever i thought i #d save for blurb night !#blurb night october 22 #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto drabble

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neonovember · 27 days

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Never not feeling thirsty for Carmy. I am so excited for the new season I can’t WAIT. But low-key though? Never not thinking spicy thoughts about him, I wanna palm him through his jeans while kissing him and when he finally cums he moans all hot and needy into my mouth. I need to make him feel like a princess

omg omg omg, driving across country to try some enchilidas carmen is 98% sure wasn't a fever dream and you just reach over and sink your hands into his pants..make him swerve off the dirt road shoulder while your thumb circles his tip, already weeping for you. so slick and wet and ready for you, and with the way he just whimpers?

his tatted knuckles gripping the wheel so tight whilst you stroke him all soft and slow. "go-od, please baby" "need it so bad", grunting and hips canting up, humping himself into the coloumn of your wrist as you squirm in your seat.

going to stop the car off the side of the road when you grip his base but you urge him to keep driving, there isn't anyone for miles and you wanna see how long it takes before he's making a mess in his pants.

ty and good bye

tags <3 @hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @parmforcarm @nolita-fairytale

#carmen berzatto #neonovember #the bear discussion #the bear hulu #the bear #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto filth #my mind is a hellscape #thank you anon #sub carmen #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy the bear #neo writes #carmy berzatto

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kaylasficrecs · 4 months

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carmen berzatto recs

god's plan | two shot, angst | @queers-gambit

more, more, more | one shot, smut | @atrwriting

baby? | drabble, angst | @thetealsky

you're so mean to me | imagine, flangst | @writers-hes

lovesick | drabble, fluff | @violentdelightsandviolentends

make my heart surrender | series | @nolita-fairytale

doesn't show up for a date | imagine, flangst | @irndad

yes to heaven | imagine, fluff | @callsign-jinx

to carry and to bear | one shot, comfort flangst | @neonovember

sardines | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @laiiaaa

neon sticky notes | imagine, fluff | @queers-gambit

(not) strong | imagine, comfort flangst | @lskisms

gf's feeling insecure | imagine, fluff | @laiiaaa

sleepless nights | drabble, fluff | @flavor-of-the-week-writing

always have but never hold | series | @bubbles-for-all-of-us

coffee addict | drabble, fluff | @gxtitobxby

robbery of a heart | one shot, flangst | @theonewiththefanfics

the resolution | one shot, angsty flangst | @tempestuous-lush

cooking up speculations | one shot, flangst | @ticktokrobotsnot

office doors | one shot, trifecta (smut/fluff/angst) | @neonovember

golden boy | series | @neonovember

eat my love | imagine, fluffy flangst | @lskisms

back to work | drabble, fluff | @gh0stsp1d3r

the bear & the fox | series | @thatone-brightstar

sydney saw if first | one shot, fluff | @writers-hes

where there's smoke | one shot, flangst | @thebearer

trying to go to bed mad | imagine, comfort flangst | @laiiaaa

cinnamon sugar | imagine, fluff | @laiiaaa

stressed cranky gf | imagine, fluff (comfort!) | @laiiaaa

rosé flown with your chosen family | imagine, fluff | @thebearer

talking you through it | drabble, smut | @thebearer

waitress at the bear | imagine, flangst (comfort!) | deactivated blog

kiss me and apologize | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @allbark-no-bite

wrinkled cotton | imagine, fluff (comfort!) | @veryberryjelly

chicken soup for carmy | two shot, flangst (comfort!) | @d3add0vedonoteat

the light that always goes out | imagine, fluff | @veryberryjelly

one step at a time | imagine, comfort flangst | @springtyme

our compliments to the chef | imagine, fluff | @pearlzier

new recipe late at night | drabble, fluff | @gxtitobxby

bad day | imagine, flangst | @fooled-around-and-fell

not so secret | imagine, fluff | @violentdelightsandviolentends

roommates | series | @violentdelightsandviolentends

follow me | two shot, fluff | @thebearer

confectionary clash | one shot, angry fluff (comfort!) | @newtkive

in a world of boys he's a gentleman | imagine, fluff | @wannabeschyulersister

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #masterlist #fic recs

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xblackreader · 23 hours

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Mini Sydcarmy domestic headcanons : SFW

when they start getting closer as best friends (basically dating but without kissing bc they’re scared), Sydney starts biting his hands or his forearms and he just… lets her, making comments about her being a cannibal to see her pout and asking ‘what sides she wants to eat with his left arm’.

Sydney Thee Biter 👹🤭💞✨

In fact, he just starts offering her his arms whenever she looks antsy, she bites him once to sate her blood lust, and smiles at him.

Now Once they start 💞✨smooching✨💞 officially, she moves on to biting his cheek meat or his bicep; carmy’s body is nice and firm so it’s very pleasant to bite on. Good for chewing.

If they’re pillow talking, she’s biting his jaw. If they’re working in the office side by side, her teeth are in his shoulder. If they’re watching a movie together, Sydney is in his lap practically eating his face.

also Sydney smells like cocoa butter and her hair always smells like fruit somehow? (That’s that black girl magic) Carmy is obsessed.

Carm is also a chronic sniffer. If Sydney is a biter, Carmy is a sniffer; he’s smelling her hair and her pillow and he love using her body wash.

He will stick his nose in her hair and just inhale. “You’re a creep, Carm” he doesn’t care.

But He can’t use her shampoo anymore bc apparently her haircare is expensive and she popped his wrist when she caught him sneaking into it.

Sydney after catching Carmy using her Shea Moisture and Carol’s Daughter in the bathroom:

#sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear tv #headcanons #Drabble #otp ideas #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #jeremy allen white #ayo edebiri #jayo #ayomy

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

42. "I can't do this anymore." + Carmem (The Bear) + Smut :)

Denial.

42. "I can't do this anymore."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. always happy to write a carmen request. man, those biceps. i've been a jeremy girl since shameless and it's so wonderful to see his evolution <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 775

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

It isn't unusual for the two of you to be the only ones left in the restaurant.

Carmen's cleaning the kitchen, while you're mopping front of house. Between you, you'll be done in record time.

He emerges from the back to stand in the doorway. You can feel him staring at you from where he's leaning against the frame, eyes burning into the back of your body. You try not to turn around for as long as possible, but it's becoming unbearable.

"Quit staring, creep."

He chuckles, and the sound makes you smile.

"I'm not."

"So now you're a creep and a gaslighter?"

He laughs, and you can picture it perfectly, even with your back to him. Head thrown back, gorgeous neck exposed, chest vibrating.

You continue your mopping, very aware of the eyes on you. You finally turn around, and he's closer than you thought. He's silently moved to perch against a booth table, still looking at you intently. You meet his gaze, and shudder instinctively. There's a look in his eyes you've never seen before. He looks hungry.

His eyes are dark and reflective, boring into you intensely. His eyelids are hooded, body weirdly relaxed. He's borderline feral.

"So, I figured something out a minute ago."

"Oh yeah?" you question, propping your mop against a table. "And what's that, Carmen?"

"I can't do this anymore."

He stalks towards you, all cleaning abandoned.

"... Can't do what?" you whisper.

Carmen twirls a strand of your hair around his finger, moving so he's almost pressed to your front.

"I can't keep pretending that I don't wanna rip your clothes off everytime I look at you."

You're rendered speechless. You've had the most ridiculous crush on Carmen since you started waitressing at the restaurant, almost 2 years ago. You've had one too many dreams about him saying these exact words to you.

"So why don't you?"

With that, he lunges at you, ripping open your blouse and tearing his shirt over his head. He scrambles to unbutton your pants, slipping his hand into your underwear.

"Oh, fuck. Are you this wet from me just looking at you?"

If you weren't so turned on, you'd probably be embarrassed. You can't bring yourself to care.

Carmy grabs your thighs, and hoists you onto the table. You become suddenly aware of how wrong this is.

"Carmen, you can't fuck me on this table. Customers eat here."

"Watch me, honey. It's my restaurant. My fucking table."

He shoves his trousers down and pulls himself out his underwear. You take one look at him, and your mouth waters. He must see it on your face, because he chuckles.

"Not now, baby. Another time, okay?"

"Okay," you whine, breathy and impatient.

"You ready?" he asks, lining himself up between your legs.

You nod frantically, hands clawing at his shoulders.

"I need to hear you say it. Use your words, sweetheart."

"I'm ready, Carmy," you whinge. "Please, please. Fuck me. Now."

That was all the confirmation he needed. He slides home in one careful thrust, and both of you groan in unison.

"Oh, fuck. Better than I ever dreamed."

"You've dreamt about this?" you ask breathlessly.

"All. The. Damn. Time."

He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips, knocking you backwards on the table. He places one hand at the base of your throat as an anchor point, the other grabbing at your thigh to hitch it up.

He doesn't break eye contact once, his gaze full of lust and hunger. You've never seen this side of Carmy. Usually, he's a little avoidant, sometimes shy, always conscious of taking up too much space. But now, he's possessive. He's open, he's commanding, he's confident. He's so sexy.

"You're close, aren't you?" he teases.

You can only whine in response, grabbing at his forearms for leverage.

"It's okay, baby. Let go. Come for me. I want it. Give it to me, that's it. Atta girl. You got it."

He's rambling, babbling nonsense as you squeeze and clench around him. Your whole body tightens, back arching off the table, and it sends him over the edge. Both of your climaxes are white hot and electric, mixed groans reverberating around the restaurant.

You're panting, his chest heaving, breathing into each others mouths. After a minute, you speak.

"Carmy?" you ask.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Will you kiss me?"

"Of course I will," he grins. "I can't believe I waited this long."

He presses his lips to yours, tongue moving to tangle with your own. You've never been kissed like this. It's electric, it's instinctive, it's so right.

There's no point denying it any longer. Everything's fallen into place.

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