#carmy berzatto fanfic
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Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto
Content Warnings: THIS IS MY MEAL. I CALL IT GIRL DINNER ✨️GIRLLLL DINNNER✨️
Inspired by this post I saw by @thebearer (i hope you don't mind me adding to the concept)
"What the fuck is girl dinner?" Carmy sounds more than frustrated, and confused as he stares down at you, sat comfortably on the couch with your choice of meal. It's an apalling assortment of things from his point of view, though your wide smile shows you think the opposite.
"This is girl dinner." You wave down at your food before stabbing a fork into the meal, eyes drifting to the tv.
"No, no, no, I can't let you eat that." Carmy seems a little distraught as you make eye contact with him, putting more of the dish you prepared into your mouth, chewing slowly as though to make the point 'but I'm eating it anyway.'
"Fuck, please stop with the girl dinner." You love how he's adopted the phrase himself, reaching down to pull the plate away from you, though you dodge him well.
"You eat peanut butter and Jelly for dinner almost five nights a week, so don't you dare scold me for this!" You're defensive as you stand with your plate, still spooning the disaster into your mouth. It doesn't taste as good as anything Carmy would make for you, but you're stubborn.
"At least that has substance, just let me make you something—Jesus stop eating it! There's no way that's nutritious at all!"
"Fuck nutrition!" You shout back, sounding almost like a child in your defiance.
"Fuck girl dinner!" Carmy counters expertly, though there's a hint of a laugh within his words. In the phrase coming from both his lips and your own, he finds a sort of hilarity, though the point he's trying to make is a genuine one.
"But I love girl dinner." You raise your brows as if that's the perfect blow, the one that will win you the fight, despite the statements lack of foundation.
"Well, I love you, and I can't let you eat cheese string and oreos—is that a slice of fucking orange?"
"What could you make that's better than this?" It's a stupid question, and one you know that answer to as you gesture down at the plate with one hand.
"Anything, fucking anything!" Carmy runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. "What d'you want, I'll make you something, anything, just stop with girl dinner."
You take the slice of orange and bite into it, eyes locked on Carmen's. "The point of tonight's girl dinner is that I don't want to cook, and I also don't want you to cook."
"That's my fucking job."
"Exactly, you spend all day cooking, i don't want you to have to come home and cook for me too." Your voice is softer now, sweet and soothing, Carmy letting out a sigh at the sound of it.
He moves forward, taking the plate from you and placing it on the stool beside the couch. "Look, I don't mind. I don't mind making you something every once'n a while. You deal with all my shit all the fucking time, it's the least I can do." He takes your hands in his own, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just let me make you something."
"You're ruining the point of girl dinner." You mumble, pressing a short kiss to his lips as Carmy's hands run soothingly up and down your arms.
"Don't care." His mutters back, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, your other meal long abandoned on the stool to be disposed of later.
Days pass, Carmy is still thinking about it, and when he gets to work, he has to say something to the others. "Caught my girlfriend eating fucking orange slices and oreos for dinner the other night." He mutters whilst searing a steak in prep for a menu change. He glimpes Sydney nodding, and as Fak moves behind him, the man decides to speak.
"Girl dinner, good for her."
Carmy turns so fast to face the man that he almost sets his shirt alight on the element, thinking over the utter complexities of the term. "But what the fuck is girl dinner? How do you even know about–never mind."
"You know," Fak begins as Carmy runs a hand over his face in frustration, "this is my meal, I call this girl dinner" He's reciting something though Carmen has no clue where this is going, and when Fak starts singing it all seems to get worse.
He's repeating the phrase, and yet it still means nothing to Carmy as he moves away, leaving Fak to harmonize with Sydney as he picks up the phone.
Pressing call on your contact is like muscle memory, and the sound of the first few rings leaves him impatient, though you pick up eventually.
"Hey," he mutters into the phone, listening to your voice as you parrot the word back.
"Hey, what's up?" You sound preoccupied, and Carmy swears he can hear the closing of a cupboard door, the rustling of a packet of chips.
"Uh, nothing, I just... I wanted to call and ask if you're all good for dinner tonight." He's closed his eyes, leaning against the door of his office as the quiet settles over him. "D'you need anything?"
You answer almost too fast, suspicion creeping through the line with its grasp on your voice. "No, no, I'm good. Dinner's all good."
Carmy catches the tone, a small amused smile wriggling upon his lips. "Cool, so uh, what're you having?" He scared of the answer, if you decide to be honest—which you don't.
"I was thinking tacos, maybe, I haven't decided."
"Nice," Carmy chuckles, "so none of that girl dinner shit? No orange slices and string cheese?" Carmy can almost picture it as the words come to mind, the plate of horrors he'd witnessed not a week before. There's silence over the phone, and Carmy can hear you heave a sigh, loud and final, as you come to terms with your lie. You don't say anything, though, so Carmy fills the space.
"I'm coming home t'night," he whispers into the receiver, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he adjusts his apron. "Me, you and the tacos, okay?"
His voice is so gentle, the affection dripping from the words like honey, and he's truly never spoken to someone with as much care. It scares him sometimes, just how much he loves you.
"Carmy, I make the worst fucking tacos." Your smile is hidden within the sentence, and it reaches Carmy like a wave washing the sand, though you're so far from him right now.
"Yeah, I uh, I know. That's why I'm cooking." The kitchen is starting to get loud outside Carmy's office door, and he knows he has to get out there soon to save whatever is left of the peace.
"You don't have to do that, Carm," you exhale, and he can almost picture you, leaning against the kitchen bench, strands of hair loose that, if he was with you, he would be dying to push back into place.
"I want to." He means it, the words he says. "You're important to me, and I want you to know that. I do."
Carmy doesn't know it, but you're grinning on the other end of the line, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of his affection. His love.
"Okay." You whisper, "you're important to me too, Carm."
That means everything to Carmy, and he's so desperate to hold onto this, so desperate to not mess this all up. Not after Claire.
"I love you." It's unusual for him to say it first, but he does this time, and his voice soothes any stress you might have. He can hear you smile when you speak again and knows he'll be thinking about the sound of your words for the rest of the day.
"Love you too, bear, see you tonight."
CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef
THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique
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MUSE.
“Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me.”
Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto + Artist!Fem!Reader
note : a small blurb for my favorite boy again cuz i cant get him out of my mind. lmk if u have any reqs! :)
In a bustling city, where creativity and gastronomy intertwined, there existed a love story that transcended the boundaries of personality. YN, an artist with a whirlwind of emotions, and Carmy, a stoic, introverted chef with an unyielding passion for food, found their lives intertwined in the most unexpected way.
YN’s vibrant art studio was a haven of color and inspiration. Her days were filled with laughter, conversations with her friends, and the rhythmic strokes of her brush. Her artwork, an extension of her expressive soul, captivated the hearts of art enthusiasts from near and far. She reveled in the joy of sharing her passion, breathing life into her canvases with every stroke of her paintbrush.
Carmy, on the other hand, found solace in the realm of flavors and ingredients. His restaurant, The Bear, became a sanctuary where he could let his culinary genius thrive. With unwavering determination, he crafted dishes that were unparalleled in taste and presentation. He poured his heart and soul into every recipe, channeling his stubbornness into creating gastronomic masterpieces.
Their paths crossed one evening at a charity event, where YN’s vibrant artwork adorned the walls, and Carmy’s delectable creations adorned the plates. Drawn to the energy of YN’s presence, Carmy found himself captivated by her contagious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. Despite his introverted nature, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull she had on him.
Intrigued by Carmy’s stoic demeanor and the unwavering confidence in his culinary skills, YN saw beyond his silence. She sensed the passion and dedication radiating from him, much like the flames that danced beneath his pots and pans. YN, with her boundless energy, brought colors to Carmy’s monochromatic world, and he found himself enchanted by her unfiltered comfort for life.
As their love story unfolded, they discovered a beautiful balance in their differences. YN’s enthusiasm coaxed Carmy out of his shell, encouraging him to share his culinary expertise with the world. Meanwhile, Carmy’s calmness and introspection grounded YN’s allowing her to channel her creative energy with focus and purpose.
Together, they embarked on a journey of culinary and artistic exploration. YN’s paintings adorned the walls of The Bear, creating an ambiance that resonated with patrons. In turn, Carmy’s mouthwatering creations became a muse for YN, inspiring her to infuse her art with the flavors and emotions that his dishes had.
Their love grew like a symphony, with each passing day revealing new harmonies and melodies. The pair celebrated each other's successes, finding solace and comfort in their shared devotion to their crafts. Their relationship became a tapestry of passion, understanding, and unwavering support, each embracing the other's uniqueness.
In a city where artistry and culinary genius thrived, YN and Carmy’s love story stood as an evidence to the power of connection beyond personality types. Their journey proved that love can blossom in the unlikeliest of places, uniting two souls whose passions complemented each other, painting a picture of a love story that transcended all boundaries.
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto one shot#carmy berzatto imagines#the bear x reader#the bear imagines#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto angst#jadeittic
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jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader
pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx
warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.
word count: 1.4k+
a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy
summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.
masterlist | chapter 2
It starts with a ride home after service.
The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective.
It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt.
When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”
He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought.
The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert.
“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”
All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.
When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”
It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.
But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.
#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfic#the bear fanfic#the bear fx fanfiction#the bear fx fanfic#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy x you
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C.B: 1 New Voicemail
Paring: Carmy Berzatto x Reader
Summary: You decided to leave the fresh coast to pursue your art in NYC. However, you fail to mention it your best friend… Carmy Berzatto.
Warnings: some anxiety symptoms?? If there’s anything else let me know!!
WC: 2.3k
A/N: Yay!! I’m writing again!! Albeit veryyyyy slowly but I’m currently working on stuff for the other characters from The Bear and Criminal Minds!! Also, there was a semi prequel to this (its to do with Family and Friends night) but I scrapped it (not entirely) but if you guys want that let me know!!
📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️📞☎️
He couldn’t sleep. He’s finally got everything he has ever wanted and he still couldn’t sleep. His phone hums lightly against the hard wood of the night stand and his hand instinctively reaches for it. The warm tone radiating off the screen helped his eyes adjust to the sudden light almost immediately. However, it took a second for his brain to process the words on the screen.
Y/N Missed Call
1 New Voicemail
His face instantly morphs into confusion. You never left voicemails. You always just kept calling and calling until he picked up, which always drove him nuts, however, now seeing the voicemail notification on his phone only unsettles him. Carmen sat up from his supine position, carefully so as to not wake the peacefully sleeping Claire. He swings his legs off the mattress and props himself up by placing his elbows on his knees with his head hanging low, peering at the screen. He debates whether or not to listen to the recording or wait until morning, which he would admit was stupid to consider as even he knows deep down he can never stall anything involving you. His thumb was quick to click on the notification before he could consider anything else. “C-Bass!” The sheer volume of your voice made him wince and rush to turn it down. A comforting warmth spread throughout his chest hearing the stupid nickname you gave him in middle school. “I’m assuming that you’re listening to this in the morning, but with your shit sleeping habits I know you’re listening to this right now. I just wanted to say that I’m leaving for New York—“ Carmy’s relaxed body immediately became rigid and he began searching for his shoes in the dark. There’s so many things he wants to tell you and to finally get off his chest, but you continue.“Like I’m at the airport right now—“ He halts his movements “So don’t try to run over here” you let out a breathy laugh and he can feel his heart seize up at the sound that never ceases to amaze him. You’ve had that effect on him since you’ve become friends but he has become unbearably aware of it in recent days. “I, uh, just wanted to start by saying that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s just been so hard— and now with the restaurant it felt even worse—“ You had to take a second to breathe and regain your composure and he wanted to do nothing more than to ease you through it and calm you down. “It— I got an offer from MoMA— Well, I submitted some pieces to them and Robbie vouched for me, but I got the offer last week.” you didn’t sound as proud as you should be, but that didn’t matter. Carmy was ready to take over for you and he gladly let the emotion rattle through him. He didn’t understand much of the complexities that go into your art just like you don’t understand the complexities of the culinary world, but that never stopped him from being proud of you even if it wasn’t something monumental. No one has been as proud of you as Carmy has and he will gladly continue to hold that title. “They need me over there for the installation and other artsy fartsy things, that I won’t bore you with.” You laugh, but it wasn’t as genuine as he hoped it would be and you let out a sigh.
He’s getting antsy. Carmy couldn’t stop his left leg from subconsciously bouncing, so he opts to stand up instead. Your voice continues as he quietly makes his way to the living room and takes a seat on the couch. “I just need to get out of here, C, and this was my chance like I finally have a reason to leave— maybe semi-permanently.” All your explicit and unexplicit reasons were always good enough to Carmen and he’s surprised you even stayed here this long. There was a piece inside of him that wished you agreed to go to New York with him and maybe things would have played out differently. He feels like a righteous asshole just thinking about it with Claire sleeping soundly in the next room. You draw in another breath, clearly dwelling on certain emotions that you’re uncertain of baring to him, which pains him that you even had to think about telling him anything. “I told my ma and pa and all them about me leaving and they took it well, actually, maybe too well— This is stupid, but— I stayed for them and they just wanted me gone. Everything I did and everything I sacrificed is dust. I don’t know, man, maybe I was looking or, uh, hoping for a different reaction, I don’t know.” You let out a deep sigh and he can picture you slumped down on one of those awful O’Hare lounge chairs with your spare hand rubbing the long day away from your face. “I should’ve kept calling you so I could hear your voice. You always make everything better, Carmen. I hate that I couldn’t tell you—“ Your voice was barely above a whisper like it was meant only for yourself. Your name is heavy on his tongue and he can feel his right hand twitched slightly as if to reach out to you. As if you weren’t solely an image in his head and the closest you’ll ever be to him in months. He stands up again to pace around the living room so he could have something else to focus on. “But— I just knew that if I did I wouldn’t be at the airport right now. You make me do crazy things Berzatto…” Your voice trails off slightly at the end and he knows you’re listening to the voice that’s coming from the overhead speakers, but he swears the phone grows cold without your cheek pressed against it. “Anyways—“ You regain your composure and continue with the warmth returned to the cellular device, “Bizarre-o tangent over, the Bear is going to be great and everyone is going to love it. You have nothing to worry about and you have an amazing thing going with Claire and I just want to let you know how proud I am of you and everyone who made this crazy ass thing work! God, this is nuts but— Alright, alright, I actually have to get going or the stewards are going to have my head on a pike, see ya soon you crazy bastard”.
The line went dead and the warmth that you graciously provided was gone as the metallic cool of the robotic voice took over. He finally sits down again and lets himself become shrouded in unpleasant darkness. The whirlwind of emotions that plagued him earlier were now absent which made him feel somehow worse. Nothing to keep him company except the gloating sun, who is attempting to make its appearance just beyond the horizon. As he watches the amber light pool into the room, there is an onslaught feeling of a fifty pound weight tucked into his stomach.
Carmen feels sick.
The heaviness in abdomen is awash with acid and he feels like he is going to vomit, yet he can’t do anything but sit there with itchy hands. The bile at the base of his throat finally flips a switch in his brain. The last fibers of control dissipate as memories swiftly flood his senses. They crash and collide. Violently dissolving like sea foam on sand only for them to recede into waves and surge forward again and again. It’s a blurry mess, but his hands find it easy to call you. It’s all he needs to reach his calm. He needs it just as much as you need him. The initial ring echoes through his head and the pause lasts for an eternity. His face is running hot and he’s thinking too much. It’s something he already knows, but once he starts it’s hard for him to stop. All the different possible scenarios are playing rapidly in his brain and he can’t keep up. The phone buzzes again, still trying to connect him to you. His hand is swimming through his hair impatiently as he starts pacing the living room for the uptenth time. The phone hums steadily another time. All of his emotions are caught in his throat and his stomach is in a perpetual knot. His breathing is shallow leaving his lungs aching for more and it’s almost as if there was no more air left in the atmosphere.
Then it clicks.
“Hello, sunshine” Relief crashes over him eagerly when the sound of your voice reaches his ears. He can tell that you're smiling and he can even see it briefly when he closes his eyes. Carmy is finally able to stop pacing and takes a second to sit down on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor.
“C-bass” You elongate the notes in a singsong way to reel him in. Your voice sounds off. It was hard for him to pinpoint at first but now it was easy to hear it was the nerves eating you up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here” he sighs, the heel of his hand rubbing his left eye, “I, uh, thought you weren’t going to pick up.” He can feel the exhaustion settling in as he slouches against a cabinet. You fight with your carry-on as you move through the quiet terminal. It’s a maze of sleeping bodies and you try your best not to wake them. Once you reach your designated gate and find a semi-secluded spot, you continue ”Sorry about that, they changed the gate and delayed the damn thing.”
”I’m glad” Carmy mumbles without a second thought as he reveles in your long distance presence. ”You’re glad I’m stuck here?” You try to act all serious but he can hear the lightness in your voice and he can’t help but crack a smile. ”No, no, it’s just— uh, I’m glad that I can hear your voice” the cadence in his words forces you to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the stupid grin from spreading. It’s the Carmy effect. Idiotic smiles are plenty when the two of you are together.
”Fuck, me too” Your voice contradicts the violent affection that rattles your insides. It’s shy, almost as if you were embarrassed to admit it. There was a beat of silence, but Carmy beat you to speaking first. ”So, uh, how long is your plane delayed?” His now steady hand ghosts over the grooves in the tile. You were still battling the nerves from earlier, but thought it was an opportune time to actually apologize to Carmy ”Only like an hour. It took me over half of that to walk to the other side of the airport— Hey, listen, I just— I wanted to tell you I’m sorry—“
”No, no, I get it. I would have done the same—“ Carmy waves you off as if you could see him. ”I still feel bad“ you groan and lean your head into your hand in an almost facepalm fashion. You hate that you feel bad but you always do and you always will. It’s unavoidable. “Don’t, I didn’t when I left” he shakes his head to get rid of the memory of that day. He was trying to hold on to this tranquility the best he could and not derail again. ”Really?” You pause for a moment before asking, “Did you miss me?” Your subconscious emotions getting the better of you. ”Fuck, yeah like a lot. I wish you didn’t ditch me.” He was sincere like always and you can feel the guilt boiling in your stomach, ”Me too”.
“I think—,” Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose in thought, “Wait, uh, I know that it would’ve been better with you there”, he sighs and lets his hand fall back into his lap. ”Fuck, Carm, I miss you so much already and I haven’t even left the city yet” you try to make yourself laugh to get away from the regret that soared through your body, but you couldn’t. “I’ll come up there as soon as I can and help you unpack—“
” And, I’ll give you an apartment tour and show you my art displayed all fancy at the museum” You were already getting giddy at the prospect of the two of you being reunited. “I would love that, actually”, Carmy smiles into the phone as he imagines taking you on a personal tour of NYC.
”Great, because you still owe me a hot dog”
“You still won’t let that go, huh?”
“It was like the most perfect hot dog and you made me drop it, asshole!”
“Sorry, sorry, okay?” he laughs along with you, “I’ll get you another one. There’s this place in Hell’s Kitchen—“
”Fuck, Carm can you give me a sec?” You hate to interrupt him especially when he was in the middle of his excited prospect, but the airport attendants were making announcements and soon enough they will be calling up groups. You struggle to hear the muffled voice over the speaker and Carmy can hear you shuffle around to get a closer listen. After a few moments, you are able to piece together that the plane is on schedule and that Group A has been called to front.
“Fuck, sorry, Carm, I gotta go”
”No, I get it. Call me when you get to your new place”
”No, yeah, I will and Carmen—“ you interrupt yourself and flounder for a second. The words are heavy on your tongue. “I love you” the words roll off your tongue differently this time. They’ve always carried a hearty weight to them, but this time it felt like a confession. It sears his soul unlike anything he has ever felt before and you pay no mind to the flames raging in your ribcage.
“I love you too” it falls from his lips automatically without hesitation. He swears that his words are tinged with something else. The edges of the words flickering for something more. It holds a familiarity but he can't quite grasp it in the moment. “Carmen, get some sleep ok?” and your line goes dead.
Fuck.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear imagine#the bear fanfiction#carmy x you#pogueit
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Peaches & Cream - Carmen Berzatto
Summary: Carmy talks the reader into making family and their relationship takes a turn.
A/N: I don't know if I like this installment as much as the other two but I'm running with it. Also, the actual dessert made is from Carolina Gelen and it's fucking delicious!
The Bear Masterlist
✰✰✰✰
You shook your head slowly back and forth, with what you were almost completely positive was a look of abject horror plastered across your face as your eyes met Carmy's blue ones. If there was one thing, anything, that you absolutely did not under any circumstances want to do it was cook in The Beef's kitchen.
"No."
"It's not like you haven't cooked for everyone out there before," Carmy replied, leaning against the door and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yeah, but like...at my place...not like, seriously," you mirrored his image, leaning back in the office chair and crossing your arms.
Carmy smiled, "family isn't serious." He said it in that way that suggested he'd caught you out. Like you were trying to pull one over on him but he found a loophole at the last second. He looked too triumphant for his own good.
"Cars..." You groaned, there was no way you wanted to do family. When Syd did family it looked like some fucking five star gourmet meal. Even Ebra cooked up some really wonderful food for family. You had cooked at home, sure, but not in Carmy's kitchen. "Fine...but when it's shit-"
"It won't be," he replied and you practically felt the air knocked out of you. As if those three simple words had the power to truly dictate what sort of cook, chef, you were. And maybe they did because you felt ridiculously confident after he said it.
You abandoned the paperwork to the office and followed Carmy into the kitchen. His attention didn't last long, immediately pulled to something else as Tina called him over to taste the potatoes she was working on. Your unexpected entrance into the kitchen didn't go unnoticed by Marcus or Syd or Tina, all three of whom followed you with their eyes as you went to the family shelf. You were positive you looked a little more than unsure of yourself as you pulled ingredients off the shelf, trying to think of a recipe that you could accomplish, that would taste good, and that might impress Carmy.
-
"What?"
"What?"
"People don't usually make that face after someone kisses them...unless like, I read the room wrong and I wasn't, or you didn't want me to kiss you," you stammered, eyebrow quirking as you stared at Carmy. Ever since the first Sunday Night Dinner you'd been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Probably ever since he first walked in The Beef and introduced himself to you. And maybe he hadn't been thinking about kissing you for that long but you thought maybe he was thinking about kissing you lately. Or not and you were atrocious at reading what vibe other people were projecting.
"No, no...I mean, I, no, I wanted you to...I wanted to kiss you. I liked it. Ah..." Carmy inhaled, held his breath for a second and then exhaled. "I uh, you taste like peaches. It's like, really fucking wild, just like straight up peaches...like, not like chapstick shit or something but like actual fucking peaches."
"Oh," you stopped yourself from laughing, "I uh, I ate like frozen peaches before you came over." You tried to explain. It was the most bizarre semi-compliment anyone had ever offered after a kiss. Probably in the history of the world.
"Yeah?"
"I was trying this recipe-"
"What was it?" He looked over the back of the couch toward the kitchen as if a plate would be waiting there on the island for him to sample.
"It's nothing fancy," you promised, a regular disclaimer whenever you made something new and let Carmy try it. You got up from the couch as you explained the recipe you'd seen online and had attempted to recreate in your own kitchen before Carmy had come over. Aside from the peach, which was frozen in your freezer, everything else was assembled.
Whipped cream went in the bowl first, then the peach shavings, scrapped off a whole frozen peach like you were zesting a lemon, and then brown sugar syrup that you'd made earlier. In the short time it took you to assemble the dessert, Carmy came over to the island, leaning against the counter and watching you walk.
"Here," you slid the bowl over and handed him a spoon from the utensil holder that sat in the middle of the island. He took it from you, his focus already zeroed in on the dessert sitting before him. The assembly was no five-star NOMA dish but you thought it tasted pretty good earlier and hoped you'd made it just as nicely the second time.
The first time Carmy tried anything you made him your whole body had felt like it was on fire. Burning with nervous anxiety eating at your stomach. Now, you thought you should probably still be nervous but you weren't. Somehow you didn't have any of those nerves anymore. Or at least, they weren't turning over your stomach anymore. Instead it was just excitement, watching him taste the food that you prepared for him.
"Well?"
With little actual warning, Carmy laid his spoon on the counter and leaned forward, kissing you this time instead of the other way around. You kissed him back, your hand moving to hold his face, fingers brushing the curls at the back of his neck. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little dazed as he pulled away from the kiss, blue eyes shining with amusement as he smiled. Like really smiled, you noted.
"Yeah, that's the peach I was tasting." He finally said, taking another bite of the dessert, "fire, by the way."
"Awesome," you stumbled over the word, not entirely sure it was the correct one to encapsulate the moment.
-
You knew Marcus was hovering over you without needing to turn around, but you did anyway, twisting away from the focaccia bread that you were kneading onto the sheet pan to look up at him. "What?" You asked, unable to stop yourself from smiling when you caught the amused look on his face, "what?"
"You're doing family?"
"Yeah, why...you have a problem with that?" You asked, trying to sound confident.
"No...this looks good," Marcus replied, checking on the focaccia once more before stepping away from you. "What're you making?"
"Chicken parm sandwiches?" You replied, more as a question than a statement. As you slid the pan into the oven Marcus took a once over of the other ingredients on the counter.
"You making your own mozzarella too?" He asked, sounding impressed that you were going to tackle something that complicated.
"I am," you said, pulling a 'can you believe it' face, "Carmy showed me how to a couple weeks ago-"
"Carmy showed you how to?" He replied, the tone of the question teasing.
"Don't you have like...something to do?" You asked, looking back at his station.
You might've spent most of your shift in the back office but you knew that everyone in the kitchen was talking. It started with Richie, way before you and Carmy had kissed. He'd come into the office when you and Carmy were sitting in there and however you both were acting Richie had interpreted it as flirting (which was impressive considering how awkward you and Carmy flirting was). Richie being Richie, spread the news to Tina and Ebra and Sweeps, then Marcus heard about it and Sydney. Even Fak got filled in on the apparent 'romance' that was happening. You suffered through embarrassing comments every time you were remotely close to Carmy in the kitchen until finally everyone pretty much got used to the fact that you were pinning and probably never going to make a move.
Or at least, you hadn't expected to ever make a move. He just looked so good sitting there on your couch and you'd been thinking about him for a long time and you were positive (at least 99% so) that recently he'd been thinking about you the same way. It was a long shot probably, cause Carmy was almost impossible to read unless he was yelling about food, but it worked out.
"Are you doing family?" Syd asked. She was doing checks, purposely saving Marcus for last so she could see what you were up to. She'd seen you come out of the office with Carmy and go over to the family shelf, surprised since you never seemed eager to be anywhere near the kitchen during work hours. (Syd had come back for her headphones once and seen you and Carmy in the kitchen together, generally being cute...which she pointed out to you later on).
"Yeah?" You felt even more unsure of yourself when she asked than you had when Marcus had asked before.
She nodded, looking over the ingredients you had out. "Dope."
"Thanks," you laughed.
You weren't surprised, considering how hectic you knew the kitchen could get, that you didn't actually see Carmy again (aside from glimpses as he moved back and forth from the kitchen to the counter and back) until family. And technically, once you'd plated family and called everyone out to eat, he was nowhere to be found. Richie told you he was having a cigarette around a mouthful of chicken parm sandwich so you plated some for him and carried it outside into the back alley.
Carmy was sitting against the back wall, a plastic container of water in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He had his head tilted back and his eyes closed like he was maybe trying to catch a few seconds of rest before dinner rush.
"Hey," you tapped his shoulder and Carmy started, opening his eyes and looking up at you.
"Hey," he replied, laying down his container of water and taking the plate from you. He balanced it on his knees and picked up the sandwich to look it over. "What've we got?"
"Chicken parm sandwich on pistachio focaccia bread." You replied, "Richie said I was 'going all out'."
Carmy took a bite and you watched as his face change from neutral to slightly pleased. The look you knew meant that he liked something. "This is good, this is really good." He replied earnestly, taking another bite. "Did you make the mozzarella?"
"Does it taste bad?"
"No," he shook his head, looking away from the sandwich and up to you, "you could've kneaded it one more time, it's a little soft."
"I wasn't sure," you admitted, "you'll have to make me mozzarella and tomatoes again and show me how to make it."
He'd shown you last week, when you were at his apartment for a change. He was in the middle of making dinner when he realized he didn't have mozzarella so he decided to make it, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Or at least the most normal thing in Carmy's.
"You heading back inside?" He asked as you reached for the door handle.
"Back to the office, where I belong." You replied.
He waved you back over, tilting his head back to look up at you when you were standing in front of him again. You took the silent invitation and leaned down to kiss him. "I won't taste like peaches this time."
"It's not a stipulation," he joked and you smiled into the kiss.
Eventually, sooner rather than later, you knew everyone in the kitchen would find out that you were dating. Probably everyone outside of the kitchen too, once Fak knew that you were together it was only a matter of time before everyone Carmy had ever met found out that he had someone in his life.
"Okay," you sighed, reluctant to pull away but knowing there was a stack of invoices you needed to look through, "eat your too shitty sandwich and get back to work chef."
"You bossing me around now?" He laughed, stubbing out his cigarette and following you back through the door into the kitchen.
Everyone else had finished eating and were back to their stations. Tina looked over first when the two of you came in and you smiled, "Carmy said it was awful and I'm never allowed in the kitchen again."
"I didn't say it was awful-"
"The mozz was a little soft but the focaccia was insane," Syd pipped up in your defense.
"I didn't say it was awful," Carmy repeated, nudging you with his elbow when you smiled at him.
"He didn't say it was awful," you admitted, "he did say the mozzarella was soft."
"Why you being a fucking hardass about some cheese?" Richie called from the counter, coming over and throwing an arm over your shoulders, "I'm fucking shocked as it is you got this one to go out with you, now you're gonna be insulting?"
Carmy flushed red, whether because of Richie or because of the whistle Sweeps gave at the previously unconfirmed news that the two of you might be something, "can we get back to work chefs?" He finally said, moving away from you and over to one of the stations, grabbing his knife to start prep.
"Guess that's my cue to get back to the office," you joked, slipping out from Richie's arm.
#collecting stories imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x y/n#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fic#the bear imagine#the bear fanfiction#the bear fanfic#the bear fic
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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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Maybe in time, we can give it one more try
Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/F!Reader
Tags: Angst, break-ups, lovers to exes, the painful acknowledgment that it’s over and nothing can fix it. No use of Y/N
Rating: E
WC: ~700
You lean back into the squeaky, plastic that cushions the diner booth. You drag your fingertip across the white and be-speckled table and trace mindless circles. The pattern reminds you of the cafeteria tables from high school. The condensation from your water pools at the base of your glass. You drag your fingers through it and trace faint water patterns. It helps to distract you. The bell above the door rings and you reflectively look up and your heart clenches.
Carmy slides into the booth and the server gives him a large menu with every single imaginable cuisine printed across it. You could buy a hot dog, or a steak dinner, or a club sandwich or pancakes. It was limitless. His eyebrows lift as he looks over the menu.
“Did you already order?” He asks without looking up.
“No, I’m not hungry.” Your teeth meet your lower lip and scrape against the thin skin there. You resist the urge to peel it off. To feel the sharp, copper-tasted pain. You chose a public place because you felt it would be easier. There was less of a chance you would cry.
“Carmen,” You swallow. His name feels like sand in your throat. “I don’t think I can put this off any longer.”
He looks up at you, blue and soulful and bloodshot. And you look away. You’ve felt yourself drifting from Carmy ever since he reopened his restaurant. You knew there was a chance of your relationship suffering. Or perhaps suffering isn’t the right word. Too dramatic. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried. You told Carmy your worries. You expressed your feelings. You suggested date nights and ways to stay connected and stay close. Somewhere between telling him and these past few months—Carmy stopped trying.
It was as if he was pretending to be in a relationship. He went through the motions. He held your hand. He kissed you and held you at night. But it was like he wasn’t truly with you. He was someplace else. Distracted. You can’t put your whole life on hold with the hope that he’ll come back—that he’ll get it together and be a better partner to you. You could blame the restaurant, sure, but you knew that wasn’t the whole picture. You gave it a few months. You tried.
Now, it felt like you and Carmy were two pieces that didn’t fit together anymore. The more you tried to force it the more obvious it was. Once something breaks, you can glue it back together, but that glue becomes a barrier. You’ll never be as close as you once were.
You say, “It’s not working.”
Your throat tightens and prickles. The familiar ache builds behind your eyes. Once the words leave you, there’s the instinctive desire to swallow them back up. You hear Carmy place the menu onto the table and watch him fold his hands out of the corner of your eye.
His voice is soft and pained, “I thought we could make it through anything.”
You laugh bitterly, “Yeah, me too.”
“What if--”
“Carmy, don’t.” You interrupt, “I’ve heard excuses for the past three months.” You pull your water glass closer and wrap your hands around it. A barrier. A cool, wet comfort between your palms. “This is what happens, you know? People grow apart. People want different things.”
“And you don’t want to be with me anymore.” He nodded, not making eye contact, though you could see the glossy sheen of his eyes beneath the harsh florescent diner lights. His blunt honesty is like a knife through your ribs. Ironically, this is the most honest conversation you’ve had in weeks.
“So, that’s it?” He says, “we’re done?”
“I’m tired of being alone in this relationship.” You push ice around with the straw, “that’s what it comes down to. You don’t have space for me in your life, Carmy.”
“I – I – uh -” Carmy clears his throat and his forehead crinkles, “I don’t want to lose you, though.”
“I know.”
The awkward silent lays before you like a slaughtered, wheezing beast. You feel the life of your relationship slowly drain out of you. The love stays, of course. The love always lingers even after saying goodbye.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy x reader#carmen carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfic#the bear fanfic
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I’m Sorry
Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader
Summary: Carmy comes to apologize from your fight.
Continuation of these (in order): Pillow Forts, Soft Spot, Shoulder To Cry On, The Smell of Rain
A/N: Just a short lil something to keep my favorite fanfic universe going <3 This is just a little best friends apology, I promise to give you more Richie x Reader soon!!
Warnings: All my fics are 18+, despite content. Mentions of abuse, angst, and arguments.
Words: 1.5k
The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics
Previous Fic: The Smell of Rain
Thursdays meant a million different things for everyone. For some, it meant almost the weekend, a few days away from sleeping in and no work responsibilities. For others it meant Thirsty Thursday, an excuse to get belligerently drunk like clockwork in the middle of the work week. For you, it meant your day off, which inherently meant you were at your dad’s house cleaning out what was left behind. Ironically, the one stable thing your father gave to you was the thing that caused you the most trouble. The house. It was where you had grown up, sort of, which is why you couldn’t bring yourself to sell it or live in it. So it sat idle, empty, and alone. Everyday but Thursday that is. You assigned this day to come over, pick up mail which usually was just flyers and coupons, check to make sure no one had broken in, go through a box or two of the things your father left behind years ago, it was a torturous escape but being in limbo with the house left no other option.
The knock at the door startled you, while you did pay for the electricity here (the bill was next to nothing since you only spent an hour or two a week at most here), the doorbell didn’t work. It was one of the hundreds of things on the list you had stuck to the fridge labeled “things to fix before putting on the market”. It was more the thought of the list than anything else. ‘Stepping stones’ you would say to yourself.
You opened the door, prepared with a box cutter in your right hand to scare off anyone who might have been trying to, well, do whatever scary people do.
The smell of Carmy hit you before your brain even processed his face which was solemn and sorrowful. His head was staring at the ground and his eyes only looked up when the sound of the door opening alerted him but what made your shoulders slump in relief from your tense worry was the smell of birch and musk, his fancy chef cologne mixed with giardiniera, a scent saved only for Carmy.
You didn’t say anything first, you were still giving him the silent treatment from your fight. You left a couple of texts unanswered, a missed call, you came and went from the restaurant without so much as a grunt at him and you weren’t about to break now.
“You plannin’ on cuttin’ me?” Carmy nodded at the box cutter in your right hand that you retracted back into the casing around it.
You didn’t break your silence, just rotated on your hip a little to lean against the doorway, your way of letting him know he can keep talking, you’ll entertain whatever he has to say for now.
“You’re still not gonna say anything?” His voice was annoyed, like he was trying so hard here and you were the one being difficult.
You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms across your chest, box cutter still in your hand. An empty threat, but it made you feel superior.
“Alright.” Carmy accepted your non verbal answer and started to walk away.
That’s when you realized the toxic part of you didn’t want the argument to end just yet. You leveled with yourself over those next few seconds. He had come here for a reason, and even though it was figuratively, he did seem to be approaching you with his tail between his legs.
“How’d you know I was here?” Your voice caused him to stop on the front steps and turn around so he was facing you.
“It’s Thursday.” The way those words came out of his mouth were obvious. Like where else would you be on Thursday. It made you remember that Carmy knew you. He knew who you were, your habits. For a moment it made you feel forgiving, but then you remembered. He knew you. He knew what made you tick, what would hurt, and that’s why at the restaurant he said all those things to you.
The anger must’ve been apparent on your face because Carmy’s face got softer as he reached in his back pocket.
“Look I just,” He struggled to get the words out as he pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “I, um, got two tickets to go see The Killers tonight.”
Your face wrinkled as you frowned at him, still leaning against the door frame. “The Christian band… The Killers?” You clarified with him.
Carmy’s face dropped, he looked confused, sick, and maybe a tad bit frustrated.
“You–” he stuttered over the first word of his sentence before continuing and stepping forward. “You love The Killers.”
“Yea I know, I’m fuckin’ with you.” You smirked before pushing off the doorframe, turning the light off inside, turning the doorknob lock over before closing the door and grabbing the tickets out of Carmy’s hand. “I love the fucking Killers.”
Neither one of you spoke for the first 15 minutes of the car ride, the sound of the radio being the only thing that filled the silence.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Carmy’s voice caused you to startle a little.
You let out a scoff. You knew exactly what he was asking. He was searching for a way out of the guilt, an excuse to forgive himself for missing every single sign and cry for help you sent his way when you were being abused in Minneapolis.
“I said plenty.” You crossed your arms in an attempt to close yourself off.
“When?” Carmy’s voice indicated he wasn’t trying to fight, he was genuinely asking. But before you could answer the realization washed over him. “When you flew to New York. The fuckin’ bruises on your arms.” He sucked in his bottom lip and rested his left hand over his mouth as he leaned against the door. His right hand stayed steering until the anger overflowed out of him and he slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
You didn’t jump. You didn’t flinch. You just sat there.
“How long?”
“The details don’t really matter.” You spoke for the first time.
“Yes they do.” He disagreed.
“You’re right. They mattered when it happened. When I came to visit. But now? Now it doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.
There was a moment where the music took over again, neither of you spoke a word, until Carmy did again.
“You’re okay, though, right?” He asked, his voice significantly lower than it just was, a lot less on edge.
“Yea, Carm. I’m alright.” You softened your own voice too.
The remainder of the ride went as well as it could. You didn’t say anything else, and neither did Carmy, he turned up the music, rolled the windows down and coasted over to concert venue.
Now, you stood in a sea of people, packed in like sardines, in a crowd that was louder than imagined, feeling the silence even more than ever. You were close to the stage, the barricade only a few feet in front of both of you, the lights dimming as the light strums of the guitar began to hum, a sign that the show was starting.
“You know you still haven’t apologized.” You looked over at your best friend.
The crowd got louder and so did the music. You weren’t exactly sure if he heard you but at this point it didn’t matter. You turned your focus to the stage, forgetting about any animosity you had towards Carmy and just paying attention to the fact that your favorite band was playing just inches in front of you.
In the midst of the show, you heard Carmy say something, but with all the music and crowd noise it wasn’t understandable. Turning to your right, you looked over and saw Carmy looking at you. He was sweaty and the lights from the stage were shining on him to make it even more obvious.
“I’m sorry!” He yelled over the music, the crowd of people jumping up and down around him. Just as you were about to answer, a popping sound went off and a burst of confetti fell from the ceiling. As it fell, your eyes darted up and then back to your friend.
“Well this definitely is in the top 5 apologies you’ve ever given me!” You yelled back at him.
His eyes rolled but a smirk grew on his face as he shook his head.
“Apology accepted!” You yelled back over at him and started to jump up and down as the confetti fell and the last song blasted through the speakers.
Next fic: Bad Day
#The Bear#The Bear Fanfic#The Bear Fanfiction#Carmy Berzatto#Carmy Berzatto x Reader#Carmy Berzatto x You#Carmy Berzatto Fanfiction#Carmy Berzatto Fanfic#Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader#carmy the bear
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Could you possibly write Carmen from the bear have a relationship with reader like in Bob and Linda type beat. Sorry if it isn’t specific
I'll be 100% honest I had no idea who Bob and Linda were until I looked up a compilation of their best moment on YouTube and man am I in love with their dynamic. I hope I captured what you wanted in these headcanons 💕
Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader (Gender Neutral) [The Bear]
Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety, Swearing
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comfort Fluff
Summary: see request above
Most, if not all, introverts like having a certain amount of distance around them, framed by a bubble that marks how far their comfort zone extends
And although Carmy isn't a classic introvert, his closed-off, soft spoken (when it comes to personal things, not when he's yelling instructions in the restaurant) and downright timid demeanor make him seem rather small in the eyes of a bubbly person like you
You are that entire area outside his bubble, looking in at him and tempting him to step past the barrier
You know Carmy is nothing to sneeze at when he's putting his entire lung capacity into trying to set some order in the kitchen
But you also know that there's not much sustenance to it
He's trying to seem bigger and stronger and louder than the mess, the problem, the darkness
And you're quick to snap him out of it
Building his blood pressure never helps him or anyone else
You can tell when he's panicking, even when his composure seems spotless
And you know exactly how to drag him out of that hole
However, when you start panicking, that's when he pulls his shit together
"If you don't got this, no one's got it, ok? Don't do this to me. We're a team, Y/N."
For all the times you're his motivational speaker, he's learned a thing or two to use on you whenever your mind spirals
He knows how to calm you down and how to excite you in seconds
He'll listen to you ramble for hours and when you turn the tables on him he'll shrug his shoulders with minimal things to say
"Oh come onnnn, don't be like that!"
Two hours later and he's still talking
You've built a comforting aura surrounding your relationship that gives him the freedom to be himself
Goofy, childish, ridiculous, reckless - he can be whatever his senses don't allow him to be with anyone else
Because he knows that not only will you love him regardless
But you'll always like him too
He often forgets to like or love himself
And the fact that he is loved or liked by anyone
But you do a great job affirming that with every exchanged look, word or touch
And, although shy and hesitant at first, he now returns your affection ten fold
#the bear#the bear 2022#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen fanfic#carmen berzatto headcanons#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy x you#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#reader#x reader#request#headcanons
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The Bridge
Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto Fanfic
Warnings: 18+, all angst all day, grief/mourning, mentions of death/suicide
Word Count: 1.3k
A/N: There are many reasons I've been so MIA lately but the crippling Depression and debilitating Grief are just a few! But I did manically write this at midnight one night and finally got the time to edit it so I can post it. Watching the Dead Sibling Show while being part of the Dead Sibling Club obviously gave me Very Normal Feelings about it all.
The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @withmyteeth @narcolini @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
He could feel the incessant vibrating of his phone inside the pocket of his jeans. He’d stopped checking it about three blocks into his walk. He’d lost count of how many he’d walked since then. He wished that the stroll could’ve felt mindless, like taking off with no real destination in mind. But he knew exactly where he was going.
For such a busy day, people sure were finding plenty of fucking time to call and text him. Sure, he could’ve put his phone on silent. He could’ve turned it off. Hell, the thought crossed his mind to throw it on the street so it got pulverized by oncoming traffic and he wouldn’t have to deal with it any more. But, no, he left it in his pocket. Maddening when it shouldn’t have been in light of everything else.
He wondered if they were still leaving voice-mails. Maybe they just kept calling hoping that maybe he would get annoyed enough to answer, annoyed enough to reroute himself. There was still time. It wasn’t too late, not for him anyway.
More texts came in, but once he’d read a few, he knew he’d read them all.
“where the fuck are you?”
Missed Call
“mom is asking for you"
“So sorry for your loss.”
Missed Call
“bear? You good? Call me back.”
“you should be here"
“Sorry I can’t make it.”
“I love you"
“Everyone but you is showing up to this. What the fuck.”
“we miss you”
“Sorry for your loss.”
Missed Call
“you shouldn’t be alone right now”
“I need you.”
“Mom needs you.”
“get your shit together cousin”
“love you, carmy”
“There’s still time if you can make it.”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“sorry for your loss"
When he reached the bridge, he thought about throwing his phone over the side of it. Then he thought about throwing himself over the side right along with it. That might be too dramatic though, killing himself in the same place Mikey did. Doing it on the day of his funeral. The funeral he refused to go to. It'd be quite the excuse for missing it. No one would be able to deny that.
But he didn’t do any of it.
He stood on the edge of the sidewalk, the poor excuse for a shoulder on the road. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. The inside of his body was making so much noise it completely drowned out the rest of Chicago, and that wasn’t even counting the racing thoughts in his head.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The breeze was cold against his bare arms. It wasn’t cold enough to break out his winter jacket yet. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have worn it even if it had been that cold. He wasn’t looking to be comfortable.
His fingertips brushed against the back of his phone. He’d barely gotten his hands situated when it vibrated again. He yanked his hands out quickly, like he’d grabbed onto a scalding handle in the kitchen on accident.
Tears stung at his eyes and he blamed them on the wind. He cursed quietly under his breath, muttering to no one but himself, hurriedly wiping them away.
It must’ve been a different bridge in the middle of the night, he thought as he watched all the cars passing him by. None of them knew they were driving over a crime scene, a murder mystery that Carmy was never going to be able to crack. It was sunny and windy and cold. People were driving to get lunch and grab coffee. He could hear music from some of their cars. None of them knew what they were doing to him.
He wondered how quiet it was when Mikey was there. Did he have to wait for traffic to slow down? Did he even care? He probably didn’t care. Why would he? He wondered if Mikey still would’ve pulled the trigger if he’d gone out onto the bridge in the middle of the afternoon like this. Carmy couldn’t picture killing himself in that moment, not with the sun and the pigeons and the traffic. Not because it was all too beautiful to leave behind, but because God there were just so many eyes on him even if they weren’t really looking at him.
He wished Mikey was there. He wished he’d come back so Carmy could push him into traffic himself for all that his brother had put everyone through.
Mikey probably wouldn’t even care that Carmy wasn’t going to the funeral anyway. If he cared about shit like that so much maybe he should’ve said something at some point over the last two years. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed himself if he gave a damn about Carmy showing up to things. But he didn’t. And now he was gone.
He paced up and down the length of the bridge. He studied the sidewalk beneath his feet. The same cracks passed beneath the soles of his shoes. More cars passed by, but Carmy didn’t watch any of them now. The wind blew, his heart was racing just as much with anxiety as with all the exertion. This was the closest thing to exercise Carmy had done in years. He was fucking winded but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Had to keep going.
And then he couldn’t.
His legs locked up for a moment as if to brace him before they stopped working completely. He crumpled to the ground with a surprising amount of grace for someone who hasn’t slept or eaten much at all in the last week. Nicotine could only replace so many meals before it caught up to him.
He sat on the sidewalk, legs bent at the knees. He wrapped his arms around them and leaned against his legs. It was the closest thing he had to support in the moment. His phone buzzed again in his pocket.
He blinked a couple times. His vision was blurry and rather than admit it was from the tears, he blamed it on the exhaustion. No one was there to tell him otherwise.
His eyes focused on the street in front of him. Cracked pavement just beyond the curb. He could’ve sworn that he could still see bloodstains between the cars. It was ridiculous, of course. It was untrue. It’d been hosed. It’d rained since then. Nothing about Mikey could be forced to stick around. But he could still swear that he saw it. Rusty smudges against faded paint lines and sun-bleached blacktop.
The wind coming off a car going exceptionally fast nearly knocked him over. He let go of his legs, palms slamming sown onto the sidewalk to keep him upright. Only for him to lift one hand with a curse, looking down to see that he’d sliced his palm open on a shard of broken glass. There was a red smear on the sidewalk where he’d pulled his hand away. More of him was on the streets of Chicago now than Mikey. That didn’t seem quite right.
He wiped his hand on his jeans. The blood would have to stop on its own eventually.
The blood rushing in his ears got quieter. Maybe just enough leaked out of his palm to dull the noise for now. How quiet Mikey's body must’ve been on this bridge, then, if that was how it worked.
His phone buzzed. Another missed call. More tears he’d never admit to.
Mikey wasn’t really at the funeral, why should Carmy be there? There was more of Mikey in the crevices of the bridge than in that closed casket in the funeral home.
Carmy ignored the burning sensation coming from the cut in his hand as he continued to stare at the street. Mikey had never set foot in that stuffy old building where they had his body now. He’d never been there before and in Carmy's opinion he still wasn’t there now.
But the bridge. He’d been to the bridge before. He’d been there and really, he never left. He made damn sure of that.
Carmy almost wished that he didn’t have to leave either.
#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfic#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#the bear fanfiction#my writing#fanfiction#drabblesmc
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Something Like A Dream
Pairing: Carmy Berzatto
Summary: Opera singers write grocery lists in their heads while they sing. What does Carmy, decorated chef at the best restaurant in the world, think of as he excels at his craft?
Length: 700
Warnings: None.
A/N: I told myself I would post no matter what tonight so here we are! My first-ish fic for The Bear.
--
Hands.
Carmy blinked at the gleaming, pristine, circular canvas decorated with measured portions of a new-age take on something inspired by what used to be someone's grandmother's cherished family recipe. He couldn't stop his hands from making the precise movements - smearing, spreading, splattering. He only fully understood how dextrous humans were when he minced an entire tub of garlic for the first time. He wasn't one for math, and he sure as hell wasn't counting, but his hands told him he'd given his 10,000 hours.
Hands.
The sauces around him simmered and glossed. Sparks flew over his taste buds, .02 seconds at a time, and he knew this was the level at which the chefs in his kitchen had always dreamed of cooking. He tossed his tasting spoon aside before giving his critique. There wasn't time to give a glowing review of every element or sandwich his fucking feedback. There was only time to fix what wasn't working and go. This he understood. It's all he understood, actually. Outside of this kitchen… there was nothing outside of this kitchen.
Hands.
Outside of this kitchen, he was an embarrassment. He got lost on the subway at least once a week on trips from somewhere other than directly from his apartment to the restaurant. He'd learned to just keep his bread in the freezer, or else it would mold too quickly, as he never found the right rhythm to know if he'd finish a loaf in one week or three. How much mail covered his counter, abandoned just to make room in his mailbox after the landlord scolded him about not checking it enough and the small box being stuffed? How many texts had he yet to return? Not to mention the laundry he never folded after washes, only ironing it to get the crisp looks, for christ's sake.
But that was why the food was so good.
Hands.
What was passion but his ability to filter every single thing in his life - everything he'd ever been mad about, happy about, frustrated or indifferent - into fuel? What was instinct but to know how to make sure it got strained and garnished and plated every night to rave reviews?
It left everything that couldn't be seasoned to perfection rendered useless. It left his head empty, not knowing how much time was passing to finish his groceries, much less which train was uptown or down. It left his chest hollow.
Luckily for him, hungry bellies and sophisticated palettes didn't wait for him to call his mother back. As long as it was on the plate, colorful and edible, and able to be paired with a good wine, it was enough. He was enough. He was doing enough.
Hands.
That was all there was to it. Interviewers and mentees asked him what motivated him to work through culinary school and be a chef. How could he say being successful was a rage move? That he showed up because the culinary gods allowed it, and they'd likely smite him one day? Or that there are some months when he'd rather share a pizza slice with a gutter rat than smell a medium rare beef roast hit the perfect temperature? Fuck, if he didn't ask himself if he liked to cook every time he delighted in PB&J.
It was a lifelong dream, he told them.
Hands.
The only thing that even remotely calmed him down from his nightmares about being a chef was the picturesque foods of other chefs. It was sick, and he didn't dare ask himself if he was really okay. Because, for better or worse, he was definitely living out something from one of his dreams. The kind where adrenaline shoots through your sleeping body as you free fall into nothingness.
Carmy blinked hard, taking a deep breath that sounded too much like a gasp, ignoring his sous chef's quick glance while separating herbs. The parsley was vibrant against seared scallops. He squeezed lemon over the garlic-buttered perfection and felt his stomach turn. His knuckles whitened around the citrus rind before snatching up a towel and cleaning the plate. The last meal of the night. He'd made it. He did well.
Hands.
#Turns out telling yourself you'll post even if it's half done and embarrasses your name is great writing fuel#Carmen Berzatto#carmy berzatto#the bear#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#Also welcoming to The Bear community to my erratic posting style#Carmy berzatto fanfic
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Burn the house down with you - Carmen Berzatto
Summary: Getting Carmen to take a break is a hard task, especially when you don't know anything about the kitchen.
AN: please don't burn your houses down I beg
"What the hell is that smell?" It's Carmy's voice, home early from work, and it startles you when his arms find your waist. You're at the stove, pushing around an assortment of vegetables in a pan, and Carmen’s head rests on your shoulder, watching you work with a wrinkled nose.
"That smell is your dinner." turning to look over your shoulder, your lips meet his in a short kiss, that says, "Welcome home," and "I love you" all at once. But he's distracting you from the task at hand, and he knows it.
"Is that so?" his hand runs up your waist to your shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake before it continues its journey down your arm, and with gentle touches his hand comes to rest over yours as you grasp the wooden spoon. "What exactly are you trying to do here?" He doesn't mean it in a negative way, and his tone is gentle, unlike the excessive shouting he's used to at work.
"I am sautéing these vegetables."
"Babe," with his other hand, Carmen reaches round to turn down the heat of the stovetop, "you're burning ‘em." His hand is hard and calloused over your own, and the band aid over his pinkie finger leaves you frowning.
"Cut yourself at work again?" you ask as you move the pan off the heat. You shuffle out of Carmy's hold to the chopping board where the rest of your ingredients await.
"Yeah, fucking dull knives." He follows you, placing his hands on your shoulders as you begin chopping tomatoes. "Let me do it, baby."
You push him back gently and continue chopping away at the contents on the board, feeling his eyes on you as you do so. His gaze is warm, soft, and it's something you can always sense.
"I'm cooking dinner for you this time, not the other way around."
"Why?" Carmy comes up beside you, leaning against the kitchen counter as you work. Watching your hands, analysing every movement you make. He'd taught you how to prep vegetables properly, courtesy of you insisting upon being his sous chef when cooking at home, and he's proud of the way you work, even though you burn almost everything once it's in the pan or oven.
"Because you need a break," Putting down the knife you hold and wiping your hands on the cloth beside you, you turn to face him. "You work too hard Carm. You need to sit down and relax."
"I am relaxed."
"No, Carmy. You're not."
He lets out a long breath, eyes closing as he does, and when he feels your hands, running up and down his biceps, your arms, wrapping him in a tight hug, your lips pressed to his in short, delicate, kisses he can find some semblance of peace. When you go to kiss him again, your nose bumps his in an awkward kind of affection, and he laughs, a sound he only really hears on nights with you.
"Please, just sit down." your forehead is pressed to his, hands on his shoulders as you wait for him. It takes a moment, his eyes opening as he takes you in.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Carmy mimics the gentle furrow of your brows, hands finding home on your waist. "I just want to look at you." And that's exactly what he's doing, looking at you like the stars and the sun have become the singular person before him. Like you're a painting, he just can't get enough of and a song he loves to listen to.
Carmen Berzatto is in love, he thinks, though he doesn't know how to say it.
"You can relax and look at me at the same time, you know." The gentle smile you send is the best thing he's seen all day, your voice the one sound to calm him.
"I am relaxed," his hands running up and down your sides cause you to soften, gentle touches from hard hands. "you relax me."
All you do is chuckle, a soft sound that he can feel in the way your body shifts under his grasp. He's tired, and though there is deep-rooted stress from the struggles of work and the ongoing family drama that arises at least once every week, he finds his own calm somehow. His own version of it, when he's with you.
"Just let me help you." he's staring you down, intent on winning you over, and trying to memorise every detail of you. Every freckle, every crease in your skin. Every part of you that he wishes he could take to work every day, the pieces of you he's glad to come home to, and the entirety of you that he doesn't want to lose.
Somehow this look seems to work, and you cave, forehead pressed to his chest as you groan in agreement. When you raise your gaze to meet his once more, you've got a seriousness behind the irises he loves.
"But you listen here Carmen Berzatto, I am head chef tonight. You are only the assistant to my power."
Carmy can only chuckle as you move back toward your slightly blackened vegetables and the chicken you have prepped to follow suit in the pan. He can't help but admire the way you're doing things, small movements and actions he knows you've done to please and impress him, though you don't admit it. In a way, it's your approach to showing him how much you notice what he does too. You follow things you've seen him do, even though you have no idea what benefit said actions have on the food you're making, and in doing it you let him know you see him. And care about him.
"So, what do you want me to do chef?" He's humouring you, watching as you slide over a packet of fresh bread buns.
"Ideally I would have wanted you to sit down and relax, but your stubborn arse is gonna butter this bread now." You're not mad, though you would like to be. But Carmy has a way of getting under your skin that doesn't make you hate him. In fact, that itch of him crawling through your bloodstream makes you want him all that much more.
"Really? You're limiting me to bread?" he's not really objecting because he already has the butter knife in hand, ready to do what you say whenever you say it, but he'd like to think he has a chance at convincing you to let him do something more.
You don't give him that satisfaction. "Yes, I am limiting you to bread, because that is the least stress-inducing task I can think of giving you right now." You slide the chicken into the pan, the loud sizzle giving you a fright as the butter and oil spits back at you.
There it is again. The smallest and sweetest of laughs leaving Carmy's lips, all thanks to the company you provide. The safe haven that you've somehow become for him.
For the next few minutes, he butters the bread in silence, and you toss about the contents of the pan, with the hope that it might be bearable to eat. But there is something about the quiet that creates tension, and with tension the need to touch. A moment passes as you wash your hands in the sink, Carmy coming over to do the same, though his hands are clean. He's testing the waters, waiting, and wanting to be just that bit closer.
Three gentle kisses to your neck later, each one creeping closer to the sweet spot behind your ear, and you turn around, flicking the water from your wet hands into Carmen's face. "And what do you think you're doing?"
"Why? Do you want me to stop?" he tries to play it cool, but there is a part of him that holds the concern, that even though he can hear the teasing in your tone, perhaps you're not interested in his not-so-subtle acts of affection.
There are a heavy few seconds—ones where you stand staring bewildered at the man before you, brows furrowed with the lightest of smiles pulling at your lips, before the tension is lifted, and the weight on Carmen's chest ceases to exist. There's something about your hands in his hair, smoothing it back, tugging at the strands near the nape of his neck. The depth of the kiss that takes his breath away, and the smell of your shampoo that he can take in with you this close to him. There's something about the feel of the back of your thighs in his hands, the awkward, messy bump of your knee against his as he lifts you onto the empty space of the counter. The way the chopping board is knocked to the floor with a loud thump you both ignore, because you're too caught up in each other to care.
It's your hands and his hands, scrambling to find purchase on each other, the lips that crash together, the kiss moving from gentle and sweet to intense and passionate in nothing but a second. Broken breaths and gasps that turn to laughs, Carmy's fingers tracing your shoulders, your face, your lower back. The heat that courses through the room, and the sudden realisation that it's not just the kiss that's hot.
You see it first, out of the corner of your eye, the orange light catching your attention. The black block that had once been your meal, and the smell of smoke that fills your senses now that you're focused on something other than the way your body moves with Carmen's. "Shit!" You push him back, jumping off the bench with a yelp as the flames reach toward you, and it seems to register to Carmy then just how serious the situation is. The pan is on fire, the food pitch black and the flames are beginning to lick at the walls.
"Fuck!" His voice is loud and matches the volume of your screams as he reaches for the stove, daring to turn off the element before leaping to the cupboard where he, luckily, keeps a fire blanket. He got it after many incidents like this on his part, with the sleepwalking and late-night cooking that went horribly wrong. Though he hasn't had an incident like that in a while, he's more than glad he kept the blanket around as he throws it over the fire. The fire alarm beeps loudly overhead and is more than late to the scene as you scramble for a chair to stand on so you can turn it off.
"Holy shit." Carmen moves your way once he's sure the flames have died, hands on your hips as he lifts you down from the chair, pulling you close. "That was fucking insane."
"It's burnt." you mutter, somewhat sad at the turn of events. You'd worked hard on the food after all, and while it might not have been the best meal, you'd hope it might have been semi-enjoyable.
"Yeah, no shit." Carmen presses a kiss to the top of your head, eyes still on the place where the flames had once been. "At least we know it won't give us salmonella. That shit's cooked through."
It makes you chuckle, though you don't find the situation funny at all. There is a large black mark on the wall, the place where the fire had bruised the wallpaper, and you weren't particularly happy about it. After a moment, Carmen speaks again, giving you a tight squeeze before his eyes fall to your figure tucked into his side.
"Do you wanna get takeout?"
Your eyes shift up to look at him, lips upturning in a tired smile. "Definitely."
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto smut#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#carmen berzatto x you#the bear hulu#the bear season 2#carmen berzatto one shot#carmy berzatto imagines#the bear x reader#the bear imagines#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy the bear#the bear fx fanfiction#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto imagines#the bear#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto smut
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LOVE.
“Sometimes, someone comes into your life, so unexpectedly, takes your heart by surprise and changes your life forever.”
Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto + Sunshine!Fem!Reader
note: this is my first work since going on a break that was too long so this work might be rough on the edges. this is my first for carmy too so ik i can do better so plssssss send in requests if you have some :)
js a small blurb:) i love love
In the pulsating world of culinary passion, where flames dance and flavors collide, two hearts discovered a captivating harmony. Meet Carmy Berzatto, short for Carmen, an intense and driven chef, whose every fiber was consumed by the pursuit of culinary excellence. And there was YN LN a vibrant and radiant spirit, whose infectious joy lit up even the darkest corners of Carmy’s world.
With their first meeting at the supermarket, both of their shopping carts colliding as they awkwardly fumble their way through the crowded aisles. Embarrassed yet amused, they both shared a nervous laugh, their initial discomfort slowly giving their way to a shared sense of camaraderie.
Over time, “chance” encounters in the supermarket slowly became intentional. Carmy and YN found themselves gravitating towards the same shelves, engrossed in conversations about the most peculiar products and exchanging recommendations for obscure recipes.
And as they continued to explore the aisles together, they discovered shared interests and passions beyond the supermarket’s walls. They found themselves engaging in activities that pushed them out of their comfort zones. With Carmy cooking dinner, as YN watches him from the counter with heart-shaped eyes. They fit perfectly.
Carmy’s culinary career demanded his unwavering dedication, his focus on perfection pushing him to the edge of his limits. Amidst the intensity of his craft, he often found himself drowning in a sea of stress and pressure. But then YN appeared, like a gentle breeze on a scorching day, bringing with her a tranquility that soothed Carmy’s restless soul.
With her contagious laughter and warm embrace, YN became the anchor in Carmy’s stormy sea. She knew exactly when to wrap him in her arms, easing his burden and reminding him to breathe. In her presence, Carmy found comfort from the relentless demands of his career, a safe place where he could be vulnerable and find respite.
YN, the epitome of sunshine, understood the delicate art of balance. She brought lightness and playfulness into Carmy’s life, helping him rediscover the joy in simple moments. Together, they embarked on adventures that took them far from the confines of the kitchen, reveling in the beauty of nature and the pleasures of the everyday.
With YN by his side, Carmy learned that life was not just about achieving perfection, but also about savoring the sweetness of love and laughter. Through her unwavering support and unwavering belief in his talent, she became his muse, igniting his creativity and reminding him of the wonders that lie beyond the culinary realm.
In the quiet moments shared between them, Carmy found his heart opening, revealing a vulnerability he never knew existed. YN’s presence, like a balm for his weary soul, inspired him to find a healthier balance between his passion and personal life, realizing that love and happiness were as important as culinary triumphs.
Their love story unfolded like a perfectly timed symphony, with Carmy’s intensity harmonizing with YN’s warmth and love for life. In each other's arms, they discovered a sanctuary where stress melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.
As their love deepened, Carmy learned to appreciate the power of YN’s sunshine, not just in his life but also in the lives of those around him. Together, they created a house of joy and tranquility, a respite from the whirlwind of culinary pursuits.
In the magical dance of their love, the pair found a balance that elevated both their spirits. They became each other's pillars of strength, supporting and uplifting one another as they navigated the challenges of life's delicious journey.
In the embrace of their love, Carmy discovered that his work doesn’t need to consume his entire being, while YN reveled in the fulfillment of nurturing and uplifting the one she cherished. Together, they proved that the union of an intense chef and a sunshine girl could create a harmony that transcended the culinary world, forging a love that was as tantalizing as the most exquisite dish.
#carmen berzatto × reader#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fic#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto one shot#carmy berzatto imagines#the bear x reader#the bear imagines#carmy berzatto × reader#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto angst#jadeittic
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jaded -- chapter 3, carmy berzatto x reader
pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx
warnings: smoking as usual. angsty!!! minors dni with this story please.
word count: 2k
a/n: sorry for the kinda late posting, was at the lake this weekend hehe. v angsty chapter but i hope u love it!!
summary: feelings get involved.
masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4
When the morning light filters through your curtains that morning, it’s disappointing to see that he’s not there laying with you. Not an abnormal offence, sure, but it was beginning to hurt more and more when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. The closer you got with him, the more it hurt to wake up alone, knowing he didn’t want to spend the night with you afterwards.
When you finally did make it out of bed, you opened your bedroom door to a very not-empty kitchen. Carmy had his back turned, slightly hunched over the stove with a two pans on the burners, soft sizzling coming from his general direction. You were surprised to see him there, dipping a spoon in the sauce he was making before turning around and seeing you standing there. “Good morning. Did I wake you?”
This was certainly becoming something else entirely.
“No, not at all. Hi.” He looked a little disheveled and sleepy still, white t-shirt now pulled over his chest, slightly riding up in the front and exposing his lower stomach. You did make a mental note that he hadn’t worn his boxers to bed last night. “Hi,” he does a little skip out of the kitchen, coming towards you, leaning in for a warm kiss planted right on your lips. He tasted of butter and slightly of toothpaste. “I made you an omelette,” he goes back to his pan and grabs you a plate, but not before looking through a few cupboards to find where the plates actually are. He puts up a perfect orange-yellow French omelette, sprinkling a few fresh chives overtop. “What has gotten into you?” you laugh, taking the breakfast from him and cutting off a small piece. He looked a little flustered, watching you take the first bite. “Good?” He asked excitedly. “Delicious. Don’t dodge the question. Why are you being like this? What… happened?”
He seemed a little nervous, before leaning over the counter across from you and clasping his hands together. “I’m bad at this,” he starts, drawing his eyes down and attempting not to make eye contact with you. “I’m so bad at all of this shit, and, I feel fuckin’… I feel bad.” your heart sank a little, as you placed the fork on the side of your plate and listened. “Y’know, I was with Claire for a little while, as you, well, as you know it didn’t end well, so I’m kinda scared of all this shit.” You nodded along, not being able to avoid taking another small bite of the food in front of you. Shit, he really did know how to fuckin’ cook.
“But I like you. And I kept leaving in the middle of the night because I was scared you were gonna wake up and regret it, and regret me, and all this,” he’s so awkwardly sincere, it almost makes your stomach hurt. “But at the restaurant yesterday, and last night, I just felt…” he stops for a moment, trying so hard not to self-sabotage for once, “I felt like you just really wanted me here. And I haven’t felt like that maybe, maybe fuckin’, maybe ever.” the silence that was laid over the kitchen was loud as you let yourself stare at him a little. “Please say something,” he pleaded, his smirk curling up on the left corner of his mouth.
“Carmen, every second I get to be with you is fucking… awesome,” you start, getting up from your seat and letting your hands press against his chest. “I don’t know how to do this either. I just… I’m really happy you’re here too.”
“And, well, I just feel, just fucking stop me if I’m being insane-” you let your lips attach to his then, closing the gap between you two and forcing him to just be in the moment. “Shut up,” and it’s eager against his lips. “Don’t burn your hollandaise.” And when he pulls away to turn the heat off on the pans, he laughs at his own clumsiness.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
—
The only problem now is that there is a secret looming over everyone at The Bear. It’s like the mood shifted when you walked into work on Monday morning, and not just because you had a little pep in your step, but it almost felt like everyone knew.
You’re sure they didn’t, there was no way to know, truly, but it felt like it. There wasn’t even really anything to know, because you hadn’t done a lot of talking about anything after that morning, and instead had chosen to spend the day tangled up in your sheets and trying new recipes in the kitchen. There was no label, no conversation, no anything, so there was really nothing to know.
But it felt like everyone knew.
So when Carmy waltzed in at noon and put his bag away in his locker, hanging up his wool jacket that now smelled of your vanilla perfume, it took every bone in your body not to act like he was your boyfriend. Or, whatever this was now.
But he breezed by you easily, barely even giving you a nod of acknowledgment, and you guess it kinda made sense. Workplace relationships were generally frowned upon by, well, everyone, and the mess that Carmy had gotten into with Claire certainly didn’t paint him as the nicest person to be involved with. He was always going a mile a minute at work anyways, back and forth from office to prep to expo, and you knew he wouldn’t be giving you any special treatment.
What you weren’t expecting was his completed ignorance of your presence, as if you weren’t even in the building. He didn’t want to make anything obvious, sure, but he was at the point where it was honestly kind of funny how much he had switched up.
“Is Carmy mad at you or something?” Sydney asked, pulling you out of your coconut macaroon trance. “I don’t think so, why?” She leaned against your station and watched as he fingered through paper in the office, making a few small notes into a notebook. He was oblivious to the fact that Sydney was staring daggers at him. “He just seems like, annoyed, I guess.” “Isn’t Carmy always annoyed?” she giggled a little at that. “Yeah. He is. I heard Claire was trying to get a hold of him, from Richie,” she whispered. “Like a few nights ago. I guess she wants to give it another chance and like, forgave him or whatever.” You felt your cheeks start to get hot. “Oh, yeah? She, uh, - she told him that?”
She looked at you, seemingly right through your eyes and into your soul. “Does that mean something to you if she did?” You suddenly felt very on the spot, not knowing what to say. “Look, you’re not the first person to have a little crush on your boss okay? But don’t… don’t do it with him. He’s got something going on with Claire that’s just… something else. That’s old family shit, you don’t wanna get involved with that. He’s never gonna get over her.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Syd,” and it all felt a little wrong because now your mouth was dry and your head was spinning a little, because deep down, maybe there was some truth to that. Maybe if Claire was gonna come running back and forgive Carmy, maybe you didn’t stand a chance.
So you made your macaroons, and iced your cakes, and tried not to think about it.
-
It’s the beginning of the end when he starts just coming over to your place after work, instead of asking.
It’s a routine now - you’d stay late together, watching every last one of them leave, before hopping into Carmy’s passenger side and letting his rough hands find the top of your thigh as he drove the familiar way back to your place. You’d share a bowl of chips and salsa, or sometimes a grilled cheese if you were feeling particularly fancy. On Sundays, if he hadn’t stayed the night before, you’d order takeout and watch each other’s favourite movies, no matter how many times you’d seen them before.
It was becoming harder to ignore the looming cloud of Claire. You knew you needed to ask, like, what the fuck was going on, because the problem with dating Carmy and no one knowing was that you were still in on all of the kitchen gossip. Richie was the perpetrator of it all, which made it mostly questionable, but it had some merit nonetheless.
“I heard she called him crying on the phone and was begging for him back, and he was all like, “Claire no, you’re drunk, you’ll regret calling me, or some shit,” Richie had started, and your interest was piqued. “I doubt that happened,” Sydney added, talking just loud enough for you to eavesdrop. “He’s just never gonna get over what an ass wipe he is, beat himself up about it forever, and never properly love again. I think.” And even though the small giggles that erupted from the group were low and gentle, it didn’t hurt any less that everyone seemed to collectively agree that Carmy had fucked her over so bad that he would probably be broken forever. Ergo, you were just a rebound. Nothing more.
When you’re being eerily silent on the couch one night, he seems to notice. “What’s up?” He’s so innocent when he asks, eyes still on the TV in front of him, a spoon stuck into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in his lap. “What really happened with you and Claire, anyways? What’s the story?”
He looked a little jarred by the question, suddenly feeling like the room was too small and the breeze was too cold and it all felt a little weird.
“What do you wanna know? Like, from the beginning?”
“Yeah. Whatever you wanna tell me. However deep this goes.”
He can tell you’ve already overthought this to shit, and this was something he would have to navigate fairly carefully, lest there be a landmine.
“Uh, well, um, she was - like a family friend, while we are growin’ up, y’know. And I had a big crush on her then and I, um, well I didn’t see her for a long time and then she was just, like, in the grocery store that day, when I was buying veal stock?”
You nodded along attentively, watching as he slid his palms down his clothed thighs nervously.
“And uh, we started talking after that, rekindling old shit and just reminiscing, y’know? And it felt really nice. I hadn’t really had like, a real girlfriend before that, like a few hookups in New York and whatever but not like a partner,” he let his tongue dart in between his lips, a pause. “I guess I’m kinda outing myself as a loser, first real girlfriend at this age, but, I trusted her a lot and it felt kinda right.”
You don’t know if you were prepared for this conversation, but it was too late to take back the question.
“So we went out for a bit, and I really liked her, I guess I loved her, I don’t know. But when I was locked in the fridge on opening night and shit was going wrong I just, went on this tirade about how much I regretted being with her and spending so much time and energy on her when I should’ve been dealing with my fuckin’ restaurant. And shit was falling apart and I was so upset about it all, and I just broke.” The silence was palpable.
“And she called me a few nights ago and she was drunk and yelling at me, and I never intended to be such a fucking asshole but I was. And then I kinda heard through the grapevine that she wanted to talk to me again, and explain, but I just felt… like I can’t fix it. So what’s the point, ya know? And- and she told me that she wanted to fix it, and she would forgive me, and stuff, but it’ll never be the same.”
“Would you fix it with her if you could? If it could go back to the way it was?”
There’s silence, again. And this time, there’s an answer hidden under it, one that is better left unsaid. Suddenly there’s an awkwardness, and Carmy’s looking at you with his usually warm blue eyes, but they look icy tonight. You know he feels bad, but not bad enough to be over her completely, and the blanket of sadness that is laid over the room suddenly feels rather overwhelming.
The words hang on the tip of his tongue, as you grab the dishes in front of you and step over him to go to the kitchen, putting them in the sink to soak. You let the hot water run over the porcelain, letting a few small tears fall from the sides of your eyes, into the murky water below. The long sleeve you’re wearing gets pulled up over your hands to wipe the tears away, taking a few shallow breaths to hopefully stop them from staining your cheeks.
He’s beside you in the kitchen now, an apologetic look on his face, watching as you turn to face him. “Maybe you should just go home tonight,” you finally say. “I could use a night to myself.” “Don’t, I didn’t mean-“ “It’s okay, Carmen, really. I’d just rather be alone.” He looks down at his socked feet on your kitchen floor, nodded silently before grabbing his keys and his coat, slipping on his shoes, and walking out.
You watch him from the front window, arms crossed over your chest. He lets a fist hit the roof of his car, and you can hear his “Fuck!” Ring out into the night sky. The orange tip of his cigarette creates a faint glow by his face as he gets in. The tears well up in your eyes as he drives off, leaving you alone in your apartment, before you turn away and let yourself collapse into bed.
#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy x you#the bear fx fanfic#the bear fx fanfiction#the bear fanfic
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Pity Party.
Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader
Word Count - 3k
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.
Age Rating - 18+
Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.
"You're back early."
Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.
"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.
"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.
"You wouldn't even believe."
He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.
Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You think for a moment before replying.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.
"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."
He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.
"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"
"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.
"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"
"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."
He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.
"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."
"I'll hold you to that."
You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.
"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."
"And then?"
"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."
He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Tell me more."
"You really want to hear about all of this?"
It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.
"Of course I do."
His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.
"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."
Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.
"What the fuck?"
You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.
"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"
"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."
Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.
All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.
"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."
Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.
"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."
You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."
Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.
"Wh-... what?" you choke out.
"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."
His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.
"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.
Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.
"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."
His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.
"Okay."
He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."
"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."
"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."
He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.
"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.
"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"
You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.
"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."
He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.
"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."
"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.
Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.
Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.
"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.
Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.
"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.
You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.
"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."
He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.
"Give me a color, pretty girl."
You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.
"Green, Carmen. Promise."
You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.
You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.
"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."
"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.
He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.
"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."
Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.
Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.
"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."
His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.
Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.
"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."
With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.
"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"
You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.
Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.
After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.
"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"
You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.
Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.
"Doin' so good for me."
"You got it, honey, that's it."
"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."
"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."
"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."
All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."
You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"
The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.
"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."
"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.
"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."
You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.
"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."
Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.
Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.
"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.
"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.
You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"
"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."
You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.
You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.
"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.
"Come on, trouble."
He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.
The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.
#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto smut#roommate!carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader smut#the bear x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader#the bear fanfic#jeremy allen white#the bear smut#the bear imagine#roommate!carmy berzatto#roommate!carmen berzatto smut#roommate carmen berzatto#the bear fanfiction#the bear
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Pretty Little Outfit
Characters: Carmy Berzatto x reader(fem!)
Summary: With a new job in your grasp, you decide it's time for some new work outfits. Carmy realizes that he can't get over a new skirt that you bought, only to find out you've unlocked a new kink of his.
Warnings: SMUT (fem oral), cursing, masturbation, hair pulling.
A/N: WOOOOO seeing him in the CK ad only feeds the hunger I have for him. Lord have mercy.. This man has too much of a grip on me. Let's say Carmy isn't the greatest at oral first but with a lot of practice (that I'm not against) he would have me in a chokehold. Just one night. That's all I'm asking.
Anyway.. my rant is done!
Enjoy :)
"I look ridiculous" you huffed, looking at yourself in the mirror. You self-consciously pulled at the pencil skirt that was clinging your curves.
You just got a new job and it was in the contract that formal office wear was expected. When you went into the office for the interview, you noticed no one was wearing jeans and sweaters. It was all slacks, skirts and blazers.
You had spent the day frantically running store to store trying to make a new closet for the job that you gladly accepted the previous day.
You started Monday, and you were petrified. You had experience, but you never were in such a high-end environment which you felt also had very high expectations of their employees.
You cursed to yourself as you adjusted the new bra you also bought. It was uncomfortable and tight as hell.
"Fuck" You cursed, feeling panic set in.
You turned around analyzing your clothes to realise that from the back of your white shirt, you could see your bra straps clearly. The one decent shirt you felt somewhat comfortable and it was see through.
You groaned, bringing your hands to your face. Usually, you didn't give a shit but you had a feeling HR wouldn't feel the same.
You took a deep breath in and stood up straight, looking back into the mirror.
"Good morning," you smiled brightly, pretending to lean into a handshake towards the mirror. You were trying to imagine yourself in these clothes in an unknown environment. The more you looked at yourself, the more you started to overthink.
His eyes were on you through the gap on the ajar door. His stare traveled the length of your body and paused at your hips, shifting to your ass. He bit his lip, trying to hold back any audible moan he felt climb up through his throat.
Carmy rarely ever saw you in skirts. He didn't think he had a thing for them but when he unexpectedly came home to see you in the bedroom trying on some clothes he couldn't take his eyes away.
You didn't know he was home. He felt bad spying on you, but he couldn't pull himself away.
Carmy leaned against the door frame, being careful not to make the wood creak. He watched as you bend over to grab something from the clothes bag. His eyes fell on your cleave, which showed through the reflection of the mirror. Your soft plump breasts pressing against the shirt.
He swallowed, feeling his crotch getting tighter and tighter. The material straining against his growing dick.
The thoughts that spun in his head, with your legs up on his shoulder, the skirt riding up as he drilled into you. His eyes darkened, imagining you all roughed up in your office wear. Make up smudged, skirt rolled up, shirt wrinkled. Your pretty little outfit completely fucked in. Tainted. Corrupted.
He shook his head softly, trying to clear his mind. He needed to pull himself together before he completely unraveled at the door.
You heard a gentle knock on the door. You saw Carmy enter in while looking at the mirror.
"Hi babe" you greeted, giving a soft smile.
You turned around to see his eyes locked on your body. He stood there in a white t-shirt and jeans with his arms above his head, and his mouth scrunched up like he was trying to hold himself back.
"What ya think?" You did a spin, feeling his stare.
The more he stared, the shyier you got.
"Uh y-you look unbelievable," He stuttered, raising his eyebrows.
"I don't know.. I think the skirt is too tight. I can barely walk in it"
You turned back around, showing him the back of it. To which he brought his hand to his face, trying to hide the fact he was forcefully biting his lip. Your eyes flickered to him, and in that moment, you saw the haze in his eyes.
A small smirk crept up on your face.
Your hands ran over your thighs, flattening out any wrinkles in the skirt and seeing your hands travel, wanted Carmy's hands to be there even more.
You continued to look in the mirror briefly, bringing your flirtatious stare back to him through the mirror.
"What do you think about my hair up?" You gather the ends of your hair loosely, holding it there with one hand while looking at him teasingly.
He licked his dry lips and gazed at your neck. He took a couple of steps forward, getting closer behind you. You knew you had him.
You would do it every time you were on top. As you would grind on him, you would bring your hair up the same way. It would only make he want to flip you over and get to that one weak spot you had. The one angle he knew made your shake in complete pleasure. He would feel you milk him, and he would lose it.
With that thought vivid in his head, he leans down and kisses your exposed neck gently. You felt his soft lips pressed against your hot skin.
He placed his hands on your hips and moved them down your sides while you both watched him make his way to your ass.
You let out a light gasp, feeling his grip get tighter.
"Jesus- feel what you're doing to me" He whispered in your ear. You felt goosebumps raise on the back of your neck.
He leaned in closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You felt his stiffened dick pressed against your ass. You could feel everything in this tight skirt. His stare was dripping with lust, just want your body rubbing up against his.
"Is this a new bra?" He asked flirtatiously
His hands bring your focus up to your chest, where you watch him lightly trace his finger on top of your cup.
"Mmm hmmm" you hummed, feeling like putty in his grasp.
"Can I get a better look?" He whispered, side eyeing you in the mirror.
You nodded, angling your head to the side as he kissed you a few more times down the neck. He started to unbuttoned one button after another, starting from the bottom, making his way up. With the last button popping open, the shirt gave a peek to your new bra you were wearing. The tip of his fingers gently pulled the shirt away from you, giving him full view from the mirrors reflection.
A small croak escaped his throat, and you heard him swallow, trying to hide it.
He brought his hand up to your new bra and massaged your breast while he pulled his stare up to your eyes. He watched as yours glazed over. He continued to watch you crumble in front of him. He felt you push your ass out, asking him to grind up against you more.
"Carmy... my new clothes.." You whined, feeling yourself get more lost as he felt more of you.
"Keep the skirt on" He ordered, spinning you around and bringing his hands to your face.
"But-"
"But nothing, I'll buy you a new outfit, but.. keep it on," His stare darkened as he played with your lips.
He leaned down, kissing your neck all the way down your chest. He gave wet open kisses to the top of your breasts, massaging them with both hands. You looked down and watched his curls move as he made his way further down. You felt him hike up your skirt, giving him more access to the heat between your legs.
His fingers lightly traveled up the inside of your thighs until he felt a moist patch.
"Fuck, you're all ready for me" He moaned lightly, kissing your covered pussy.
You felt his fingers move your underwear to the side, making them slick with your arousal as he played with your folds. He focused on your clit lightly making you fall into him a little, leaning on his shoulder from the welcomed pressure of his fingers.
He smirked to himself, looking up at you as he worked his fingers back and slowly slipped them in with ease. One finger teasingly first, but he could feel your hunger for the second. With ease, he added another finger.
"Oh shit," you gasped, spreading your legs more trying to hold yourself up.
"Mhmm, good girl," he praised, gently pumping his fingers out of you.
One of your hands went to his hair, and you placed the other one flat against the wall.
Your breath only got more and more shakey. You looked down and watched him bringing his mouth your clit. The sole sight made you pulse. You felt his soft lips pressed against wet ones. His relaxed tongue licking your sensitive bud. Your whole body quivered underneath his tender touch.
You felt yourself building, the pleasurable rhythm his fingers moved at and him sucking your clit made you fight against the urge of climbing higher and higher. You closed your eyes and listened to the wet sounds he was making with his mouth.
Fingers on his other hand were digging into your thigh, holding you steady. His curls tickled your abdomen with every movement he made.
Him watching you above only made him harder. He wanted you to let go. He opened his mouth, giving you wet kisses on your clit, with some light sucking. He pulled away and watched the mess you were. Your chest heaving, your hair tossed, and your brows furrowed with pleasure. He could stare at you forever like this.
"Use me." He breathed out
You opened your eyes to see him gazing up at you. His eyes flickered down to his hand, while his fingers continued to disappear in you.
"W-what?" You stuttered, it getting harder and harder for you to concentrate.
"Use me," He repeated, staring at you with his blown out pupils.
He placed his free hand on top yours that was in his hair. You felt him tighten your grip on his hair.
A grunt came out of his mouth and in that moment, you realized he liked his hair getting pulled.
Your mouth fell open to the thought of him being at your mercy. You watched as he eagerly brought his mouth back to pulsing core.
His tongue lovingly licking your bundle of nerves, with his lips wrapping around and sucking every so often. He could feel your wall gripping onto his fingers. He knew you were close.
"Carmyyy.." You whined, gripping onto his curls.
You felt yourself slowly start to grind your hips into him. A muffled groan came from him, the sound traveling straight to your clit. You fumbled, feeling it travel up your spine.
You felt his hand lift your leg over his shoulder, bringing him deeper into your folds. His finger tips traveled up and down your thigh as he devoured your pussy.
He watched you whimpering out and calling out his name weakly. He couldn't resist, and brought his hand down, palming his harden self in his tight jeans. He hastily unbuckled and unzipped them, giving him a little bit of relief and ease of access. Calvin Klein briefs peeked out from the undone jeans and were stretched against his bulge. He felt the moistness in his underwear from the continuous leaking cock. He half-ass pulled out it, giving himself some relieving strokes from the sight of you fucking his face.
With his sucks and kisses getting sloppier, he passionately focused on your throbbing pussy. He knew you couldn't last much longer. Hell, he wasn't going to last much longer. He pulled his hand away from his begging erection and wrapped his arm around your thigh. He gently nursing your throbbing clit with his tongue. Slowly, he added his index finger, feeling your lips suck them in as he pumped more.
You looked down and saw his blue love-drunken eyes on you, with a smirk on his face. He started angling his hand, sending another wave through you.
"Oh god.." You cried out, leaning more of your weight on to him.
He pulled his glistening mouth away, "Come f'me," His breath rugged and heavy.
"Carrmmyy-"
"Ssshhh, come on baby girl" He rasped, kissing your inner thigh.
You couldn't fight it anymore. You felt the pressure of pleasure build fast.
"Keep g-goin'" you whined, your hands tangled in his hair.
He leaned in and went back to sucking your clit. He felt your hips faulter feeling his tongue there again. Your thrusts became more desperate as you chased the high that he was inflicting on your pussy. He looked up seeing your mouth open in pure ecstasy.
You felt his fingers hit that one spot over and over again and mixed with his tongue lapping up your clit, you couldn't hold on any longer.
"Carm- Babe... I'm comin-" You gasped, your grip tightening on his hair.
He hungrily devouring your pussy, sucking on your clit and lips as your legs shook around him.
As he watched you fall apart in front of him, he couldn't hold back anymore. He impulsively brought his hand down to his weeping cock and stroked himself eagerly while lapping up your juices. He felt you tug his hair harder, and with that he let out a pleasurable moan.
The wave washed over you with the tension in your body melting away with orgasm. Your head fell back, breathing rapidly, trying to recover from the rush that was still flowing in your veins.
Your eyes fluttered open, and fell on Carmy below you gently kissing your outer lips before easing his fingers out of you, his hand completely covered in your juices. He pecked your inner thigh a couple of times before bringing your leg down from his shoulder.
As he pulled away from you, your eyes landed on white globs all over the bottom of his white t-shirt.
"Babe... Did you?" You asked a cheeky smile crept up on your face.
"Yea- Yeah I did" He looked down and chuckled.
You leaned down bringing him into a kiss, tasting yourself off of him. His tongue brushing against yours. With him still on his knees, he gently pulled down, the now, wrinkled pencil skirt.
"I think I owe you a skirt" He grinned, as you helped him up to his feet,
"I think so." You looked down, flattening the wrinkled with both hands.
"Are you going to be wearing skirts every day?" He raised an eyebrow, playing with the buttons on your shirt.
"Uh.. Most likely"
He sucked in his lips and glanced away for a moment.
"That's going to be hard" He hummed bringing his blue eyes back down to yours.
"I'll make sure it won't be an issue" You winked before giggling
A smile played on his lips before he leaned into give you a tender kiss.
"Here, let's get this off," you tugged the bottom of his t-shirt.
He raised his arms, letting you slip the shirt off of him and being met with his toned chest that only made you want to go for round two.
You could feel your sensitive pussy murmur awake from the thought of him bending you over and railing you. The thought made your stomach twist with excitement.
"C'mon, let's go take a shower" You teasingly smiled, and grabbed his undone belt that was still wrapped around his jeans making him follow you to the bathroom obediently.
Masterlist of fics
#fanfic#fluff#smut#fanfiction#love#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#the bear#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy x reader#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut#jeremy allen white#the bear fanfiction#the bear fic#the bear fx
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