#roommate!carmy berzatto
Note
hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty
Short Circuit.
Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.
pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing.
word count - 1.8k
authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3
if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3
masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.
“Sit the fuck down.”
Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.
“W-what?”
“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”
You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.
He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.
He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.
He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt spreads deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.
Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.
You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.
“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”
Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.
You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.
“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”
Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.
“What?”
“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”
He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.
“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”
Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”
With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.
“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.
“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”
You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.
“Whatever you want, babe.”
You press your lips to his gently, resting the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.
“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”
Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.
You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.
“Patience, Carmen.”
“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.
You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.
Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.
“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.
He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.
You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.
“Please, babe.”
“What do you want, Carm?”
“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”
Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”
You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.
He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.
You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.
You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.
So, you stop.
You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.
“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”
“Because I can.”
Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.
“Babe.”
“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”
On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.
“Please.”
“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”
He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.
“Do it more.”
He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.
“What?”
“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”
Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.
“Please, honey. Please.”
You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.
“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”
“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”
You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.
“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”
His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.
“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”
He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.
“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”
It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.
You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.
You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.
“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”
“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”
“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”
“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”
You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.
You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.
“You good, Carm?”
He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.
“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”
You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.
“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”
“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.
You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.
“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”
You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.
“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”
“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”
You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds
#roommate!carmy berzatto x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto#roommate!carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#the bear imagine#the bear smut#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto smut#jeremy allen white#the bear x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#sub!carmen berzatto
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Your last blurb- carmy giving cat energy is the most real thing EVER
YES HES ACTUALLY A CAT (although he is a bear but listen)
This scene. End of s1. Richie wakes Carmy up after he gets out of jail. And carmy just jolts awake. Here’s a pic for reference
WHEN HE JOLTS AWAKE LIKE it’s SO cat. My cat has done that millions of times. When I was watching the bear with my roommates I was like “that was so cat coded” and we were all like “OHHHHH”
Anyway he’s my little kitty cat
#my asks#carmy berzatto#the bear#carmen berzatto#AOUGHUGHHUGH I’ve also drawn cat boy carmy and one of my roommates has as well I will post it sometime
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Okay my sweet, light-hearted little headcanons about Carmy time
He has fallen asleep anywhere and everywhere because he may not sleep well at all, but he’s not really one to ly awake staring at the ceiling
He’s doing something, whether that be watching tv, cleaning his floors, drawing, etc. until he passes out wherever he was doing it
Why not add joint pain to the constant malaise he has going on
In terms of ages, I hc Carmy as 27, Sugar as 34, and Mikey would be 43
So when Sugar’s born, Mikey’s 9, and when Carmy’s born, Mikey’s 16 and Sugar’s 7
Mikey lived with his mom for a good few years after he turned 18 and had to move back for a couple months once or twice
When he did move out, he still lived super close and came over every Sunday to keep making his braciole
Carmy thought Mikey was the coolest person in the world for years and years, and he never quite shook the want for Mikey to think he was cool back
He’s sleepwalked on and off since he started elementary school
The first time it happened, Mikey was up drinking and hanging out with Richie, and Carmy just walked over and stood in front of them
He didn’t move for a while so they started stacking pretzels on his head
They got pretty far but eventually laughed so hard they woke him up
A couple years ago, Carmy finally started doing research when it started getting more frequent, and he bought a child safety lock to put on his bedroom door
He only did it when he had a string of them until he started sleep cooking
He’s a sex-neutral asexual and either generally queer or straight when it comes to romantic attraction
He uses he/him but doesn’t mind it when people use they
I would read an extraordinary amount of fics with him and Syd as queer platonic partners or even just platonic roomies
I’d probably put Syd as aroace, ace lesbian, or lesbian, and Carmy is her platonic life partner, they are besties for the resties
Syd moving in with Carm and actually getting some decor in his lifeless little apartment
They hug, they lay in each other’s laps and watch tv, Syd braids the top section of Carmy’s hair back
They also deal with Carmy’s nightmares and several mental illnesses, and Syd never ever taking a break from actively cooking and making things and messing up her hands, and they take care of each other when dealing with their endless stomach issues
They’re a team of cool cooking powerhouses, forever and always
In relation to them being besties and Syd braiding his hair back, he decides he wants to learn how to do it himself
Whenever he’s had longer hair, he either gelled it back, threw it in a ponytail, or didn’t do anything with it, so he has very little experience here
She lets him practice doing her teeny tiny braids, and he eventually gets the hang of it
Braiding becomes a new hyperfixation for him, he’s determined to be good at it, and he gets fidgety as hell during his smoke breaks because in theory, he’d have time to braid someone’s hair which he desperately wants to do, but in practice, everyone would be too busy and he’d be too embarrassed to ask anyway
After a lot of trial and error, he finally figures out how to braid his own hair back
So if he can get it how he wants it (for this perfectionist? Very rarely) he’ll come to work with it like that
At some point, his obsession overtakes his embarrassment and instead of taking a smoke break, he braids Sugar’s hair, and during family, she braids his, which she hasn’t done since he was maybe five and refusing to get haircuts
And that’s all I have at the moment, but my brain is so full of him!!
#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#the bear#the bear fx#smoking tw#headcanon#asexual#qpr#qpr headcanon#roommates#hyperfixation#sydney amadu#sugar berzatto#natalie berzatto#michael berzatto#mikey berzatto#sleepwalking#richie jerimovich
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i’m back on my Carmy bullshit so i’ll try to write this one fic is started and never really finished
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slippery when wet
summary: after a night out, you get home to hear carmy moaning your name. really, was there anything you could do but join him?
pairing: carmy berzatto x roommate!reader
word count: 2,6k
warnings: vulgar language, 18+ MDNI; smut, unprotected sex, soft!carm, masturbation, voyeurism, dirty talk, creampie, brief mention of breeding kink, mention of sex toys (vibrator)
as always feedback is appreciated <3<3
It's ridiculously fucked up, Carmy knows it—but when he literally stumbles over your fucking vibrator what the fuck is he supposed to do?
You've been roommates for quite some time now, you know each other pretty well and Carmen knows his social skills have improved over the last couple of months because of you. You drag him with you wherever you go, whenever he has time, that is. Even when he's tired after a long day, he will let you persuade him to tag along just so that he can hear you say "please" to him. Of course, he would rather you begged him for something else, but you can't have the cake and eat it too. Especially if one (him) can't even grow a pair and fight for it. The cake was you obviously, and Carmen wasn't quite sure when it had begun.
When he looked back, he supposed there might always have been something. After you had moved in (he'd gotten a new apartment with more space and this beautiful newly renovated kitchen, but he needed a roommate in order to afford it) he'd been surprised to find that you didn't just want to move in—you wanted a friend in your new roommate as well. You would plan movie nights, game nights, and such, wanting it to be more than just a place to live with a stranger. You wanted it to be somewhere you lived with a good friend, a place to call home. He was skeptical, to begin with, as was his custom with new experiences, with new people. Carmen knew his restaurant required his full attention and was therefore unsure he could satisfy your wish, giving you a friend, but after just one night of getting to know one another, Carmen found himself going out of his way to find the time to spend some with you.
Flash forward to now, this second, where Carmen stood paralyzed in your room, frozen in place as if he had accidentally glared into the eyes of Medusa—it was no Greek goddess though, just a regular pink vibrator with a fucking sucker-mouth. His cock was straining in his pants as the toy painted pretty little pictures in his head—fuck. All of this because he let you boss him and tell him to get your charger.
You had vacuumed the apartment earlier—that's why you couldn't get it, you said, because you had already put your shoes on. Now he wondered if you had meant for him to find it.
You must have, he reasoned, looking around like a deer in headlights, an anxious expression already on his face as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. He wasn't though, right? He was getting your charger, per your request—it wasn't his fault you had left your charger right beside the one that was charging your fucking vibrator.
Before he knew it, he was reaching down, pulling the charger from the vibrator, and inspected it closer. Carmen wanted to turn it on, feel how it vibrated, how it sucked, but he was afraid the noise might be loud enough for you to hear. Luckily he didn't, for before he knew it you called for him, asking what was taking him so long.
In a fright he threw it on the bed, covered it under pillows and the comforter, before retrieving your charger and met you by the door.
"Thanks. Y'ready?"
. . .
When you got home at around 3 in the night, you were not nearly as tired as you were when you had left the club. Carmen had left while you were still at the bar, excusing himself with his job—he didn't have to go back to the restaurant until the evening, but you didn't blame him. He wasn't a very social creature and you were just glad he had agreed to come along in the first place.
Sadly, your bit of fun for the night ended with Carmen's leave. Your friends coerced you into clubbing instead, insisting the bar was foul-smelling and boring. You figured it might help you get over the loss of Carmy, but after spilled drinks, men crossing lines and the DJ playing shit-music, you decided it was time to retire as well.
But now, as you stepped inside the dimly lit apartment, you felt wide awake. You wondered if Carmen was still awake or if he had just left them on for you. His door was slightly ajar, but he always slept with it closed. You decided that he probably had dozed off when he'd gotten home, forgetting his usual habits.
You quietly moved around, being careful not to make any noise as you grabbed a glass of water and traipsed back to your bedroom.
Not bothering to move under the covers to comfortably settle in, you laid on top of your bed when you felt something poke at your back. It was your vibrator.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, for you thought you had let it charge after earlier. When you had been using it, the battery quit on you and it wasn't exactly difficult retracing your steps, because you recalled being unable to reach your high without it. Looking back, you supposed that had been why you had found yourself shamelessly eye-fucking Carmy all night at the bar—ever since moving in you had thought he was attractive, but you had never had any trouble keeping your eyes to yourself when your mind began to wander.
Carmy had been in here, when he got your charger for you before you left. Your eyes widened at the thought and your breath got caught in your throat—he had not only seen it, he had picked it up, too.
Although you were flustered, your couldn't help but imagine how it had played out. Had he picked it up because he was dense and didn't realize what it was? Had he thought about you using it on yourself? Or had he maybe thought about using it on you? Did it make him horny? Had his cock pressed against his pants the same way it did some mornings when he wore sweatpants?
Your thighs rubbed together to relieve the wave that followed the thought, but in the following moment you heard something from Carmen's room.
You wanted to think your mind was playing games, making you think you were indeed hearing what you had already slithered your hand down your pants to help imagine, but you swore it was, in fact, a moan.
It should make you turn over, slide under the covers, go to sleep, and enforce a little privacy. But you just couldn't help yourself. The sound went straight to your core, vibrating through your head, trying to recall the exact pitch of Carmy's moan. You needed to hear it again. Before you knew it, you were sneaking through the hall, treading carefully as to not make a sound.
You weren't sure what you would do. He might just be asleep, moaning and groaning through his dreams: whatever they might be. As you approached his door, you felt something twitch in you as you heard heavy breathing, panting even. Then a curse left his lips and there was not a single doubt about it now—Carm was jerking off.
Hearing your name fall from his lips, you were suddenly seized by an impulse and let the door to his room open further, leaning against the doorframe. Carmen was struck by surprise, but quickly recovered and pulled the comforter to cover his proud cock.
His face was flushed, even in the dark your could see the redness in his cheeks and chest. Lips parted, between heaving breathing and meaning to speak, wobbling worriedly.
"Don't mind me," you spoke gently.
Striding over there, you slid a finger from his calf to the exposed upper thigh as you tiptoed closer to him, making the air around him all the more hot and heavy as he stared, dumbstruck.
"Were you thinkin' about me, Carmy?"
His face was warm with shame and he tried to form a response, but his voice failed him and clawed its way back down his throat, hiding in embarrassment. Instead, he gulped, feeling his cock still throbbing under the cover.
"'S okay, Carm," you told him, eyes softly scanning over his body as your finger traced small circles where it had come to rest on his thigh. You could feel his muscles ripple beneath the skin and you massaged the flesh with the ball of your palm. "Don't get all shy on me now."
"I—I didn't hear—didn't know you were ba—back already."
You chuckled lightly, fingers skimming the edge of his comforter, but not yet pulling to reveal any more of his body. "Heard you moan my name—I couldn't stop myself, Carmy... Wanted to hear you again."
Carmen felt his jaw clench in anticipation. He had imagined you in several scenarios, many of which portrayed this one deliciously—you finding him like this, flustered, fisting his cock as he pathetically whined your name. It was his favorite, but the fantasy did not compare to reality as you actually stood there, towering above him with a look in your eyes just asking, pleading to take care of him.
The whole night had been like this for him, ever since finding your pretty pink vibrator—a palpable intensity air between you, electric strings bringing you together all the while your similar poles made you repel, shared gazes saying more than words could ever express. Carm had been horny as shit all day.
"Tell me what you were thinking 'bout, Carmy."
He mustered enough courage to take your dwarfed hand in his and guide it over his cock, showing you just what you did to him. It felt like torture to not feel your palm on his cock, and it the pining feeling intensified when you massaged it through the textile, just like you had with his naked thigh.
Encouraged by his guiding hand, heaving chest, ticked jaw and furrowed brows, you leaned down and kissed the spot below his ear, applying more pressure to his cock.
"Saw you found my vibrator, Carmy. S'that what you were thinkin' about, hm?" You nibbled on his earlobe and couldn't help but chuckle as he needily bucked his hips up, using his hand to practically squash his cock into your palm. "You can't imagine how many times I've fucked myself with that fuckin' handle, just hopin' you'd come in and replace it with your cock."
Another string of curses left his lips. In a matter of seconds, Carm grabbed you by your hand and pried it off his cock only to flip you over and mount you.
With his entirely naked body hovering yours, you suddenly felt very overdressed. Though you had rid yourself of the pants and bra you had worn earlier, you were not nearly bare enough.
Your talk had pushed him too far, it seemed, and he wasn't about to let a flimsy pair of underwear stop him from wrecking you, and fuck—he was going to wreck you.
It was as if he gained a wave of confidence when moving your panties to the side, and lined his weeping head with your folds, feeling the slick having amassed.
"Fuckin' hell," Carmy groaned, loving how you lubricated him. Then he felt a sudden pang of guilt, smelling the alcohol on your breath. He would hate to wake up in the morning, knowing he had taken advantage of your state and you would later regret it. But you had said you had thought of him, like he had of you, many times. Carmy cupped the side of your face in his palm and made eye contact. "You sure about this?"
You knew it was because of the alcohol, because you had never shown an interest, because you were roommates and would have to see each other again tomorrow. It was no situation either of you could possibly make light of—the consequences would be dealt with in the morning. The truth was, if there was anything you were unsure about, it was the fact that you knew you'd be better able to fuck him sober. The alcohol gave you courage, but sobriety gave you focus—guess you'd just have to fuck him in the morning too.
"Yes, Carm—now fuck me or lose me."
Yes chef.
He had imagined this many times: he would carefully slide in, melt into you and feel every crevice on his way, but reality turned out to be far from it. When his cock first dipped into your wet cunt, a single shuddered moan left his lips before he pulled out, and he couldn't stop himself.
In no time he had set a rhythmic but furious pace, placing his hands right above your shoulders as leverage, keeping you in place so that he might fuck hungrily into you, just like he had with his fist. But this felt so much better, you felt so much better, hugging him, squeezing him and somehow sucking him in while your contracting pussy pushed him out.
When he looked down at you, you were already staring at him with bleary, hooded eyes, the ghost of a crease wrinkling your brows in pure pleasure.
Your mind had warped somewhere outside this plane of existence, somewhere colors and sounds and smells finally touched, mixing into an ethereal feeling of everything good in the world. When Carmy finally clashed his lips to yours, you were pulled back, cascading into his grasp and you chanted his name like he was your God. You were desperate for release, seeing as your vibrator had failed to help you much earlier. The orgasm had been building up all night, only fueled by Carmy's hungry looks at the bar.
Carm, ever the gentleman, put his focus on bringing you over the edge. Your eyes said more than the incomprehensible sentences you tried to form.
Snaking his hand between your bodies, he knew what to do when your hips involuntarily thrust upward. Your slippery wetness joined with his movements meant his thumb slipped over your clit instead of drawing the circles he had intended. Your slack jaw and glossy eyes revealed to him his attentiveness was sufficient and he continued his deft handiwork, encouraging you.
"I got you. I got you. Lemme feel you, baby—"
And he did and he hoped to God it would not be the last time. The wanton sounds you emitted, along with the pornographic noises of skin slapping skin—he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. Not with his balls vigorously tapping against your ass, not with you clenching him so deliciously, not with a dream coming true.
Your spasms seized and it became your turn to beg him: "Fill me up, Carmy! Want—fuck! Wanna feel you fill me up!"
He had always been good at taking orders, and with you he happily obliged. Although the thought made a scare flash in his mind for a millisecond, it also made his cock twitch and he was surprised when he spilled into you with a loud groan. Carmen wasn't sure whether it was your begging for his cum or your begging for him to come in you, but he fucked you through his orgasm, pushing back the idea of a newfound kink.
While Carmen went limp beside you, you pulled his head to the crook of your neck and calmed his breathing by threading your fingers through his curls. He didn't mean to, but he became incredibly drowsy after that, and he must have fallen asleep there, in your arms, at some point, but not before he wearily made out the praise you offered him: "So good f'me, Carmy. So good."
#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto smut#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#the bear carmy#the bear fx#the bear#theplumsoldier
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carmen berzatto recs
god's plan | two shot, angst | @queers-gambit
more, more, more | one shot, smut | @atrwriting
baby? | drabble, angst | @thetealsky
you're so mean to me | imagine, flangst | @writers-hes
lovesick | drabble, fluff | @violentdelightsandviolentends
make my heart surrender | series | @nolita-fairytale
doesn't show up for a date | imagine, flangst | @irndad
yes to heaven | imagine, fluff | @callsign-jinx
to carry and to bear | one shot, comfort flangst | @neonovember
sardines | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @laiiaaa
neon sticky notes | imagine, fluff | @queers-gambit
(not) strong | imagine, comfort flangst | @lskisms
gf's feeling insecure | imagine, fluff | @laiiaaa
sleepless nights | drabble, fluff | @flavor-of-the-week-writing
always have but never hold | series | @bubbles-for-all-of-us
coffee addict | drabble, fluff | @gxtitobxby
robbery of a heart | one shot, flangst | @theonewiththefanfics
the resolution | one shot, angsty flangst | @tempestuous-lush
cooking up speculations | one shot, flangst | @ticktokrobotsnot
office doors | one shot, trifecta (smut/fluff/angst) | @neonovember
golden boy | series | @neonovember
eat my love | imagine, fluffy flangst | @lskisms
back to work | drabble, fluff | @gh0stsp1d3r
the bear & the fox | series | @thatone-brightstar
sydney saw if first | one shot, fluff | @writers-hes
where there's smoke | one shot, flangst | @thebearer
trying to go to bed mad | imagine, comfort flangst | @laiiaaa
cinnamon sugar | imagine, fluff | @laiiaaa
stressed cranky gf | imagine, fluff (comfort!) | @laiiaaa
rosé flown with your chosen family | imagine, fluff | @thebearer
talking you through it | drabble, smut | @thebearer
waitress at the bear | imagine, flangst (comfort!) | deactivated blog
kiss me and apologize | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @allbark-no-bite
wrinkled cotton | imagine, fluff (comfort!) | @veryberryjelly
chicken soup for carmy | two shot, flangst (comfort!) | @d3add0vedonoteat
the light that always goes out | imagine, fluff | @veryberryjelly
one step at a time | imagine, comfort flangst | @springtyme
our compliments to the chef | imagine, fluff | @pearlzier
new recipe late at night | drabble, fluff | @gxtitobxby
bad day | imagine, flangst | @fooled-around-and-fell
not so secret | imagine, fluff | @violentdelightsandviolentends
roommates | series | @violentdelightsandviolentends
follow me | two shot, fluff | @thebearer
confectionary clash | one shot, angry fluff (comfort!) | @newtkive
in a world of boys he's a gentleman | imagine, fluff | @wannabeschyulersister
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- CARMEN BERZATTO FIC RECS -
yes chef!
main masterlist
SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS
new person, same old mistakes • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @guyfieriii
make my heart surrender • carmen berzatto x pastry-chef!fem!reader
→ by @nolita-fairytale (this series is 🤌. there is smut, fluff, angst, slight enemies to acquaintances to lovers)
not wrong but not right • carmen berzatto x gn!reader part 2
→ by @aliensupastar (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort)
everything you've come to expect • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @delicrieux (smut, angst, age gap, i know this will break my heart so good. this series is also 🤌)
golden boy • carmen berzatto x reader part 2 part 3
→ by @neonovember (friends to lovers, angst, miscommunication, smut, fluff)
hurricane • carmen berzatto x fem!reader part 2
→ by @ticktokrobotsnot
all the quiet nights you bear • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @nyheartbreak
nothing's gonna hurt you baby • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @preciouslandmermaid (enemies to lovers to exes to friends to lovers (whew) slowburn, smut)
about a girl • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @emotionoitme (friends with benefits, age gap, smut)
nemesis • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @astermath (enemies to lovers, angst)
sharpie pens • carmen berzatto x bookstore!reader part 2 part 3
→ by @miss-beep-beep (cursing, fluff)
sweet like you • carmen berzatto x fem!reader part 2
→ by @astermath (very sweet like the title)
ONE-SHOTS
non slip • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @urfavemcustan (fluff)
painted face • carmen berzatto x fem!oc
→ by @f1nalboys (very angsty, toxic relationship dinamic, vomiting, ptsd)
we should love, not fall in love • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @thegreatestsandwich (very fluffy)
surprise visitor • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @carmybears (fluff, a little suggestive)
stay • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @carmybears (angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)
paradise is very fragile • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @anchoeritic (very fluffy)
cooking up speculations • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @ticktokrobotsnot (very much jealous!carmy, a little misunderstanding)
dating carmen berzatto • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @fanboygarcia (sucker for fluffs like this)
syd's jeans • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @peppermint-toads (friends with benefits, angst)
where there's smoke • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @thebearer (angst, slightly explicit)
the feeling • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @thebearer (drunk!reader fluff)
finders keepers • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @violentdelightsandviolentends (roommates, smut)
carry you away with me • carmen berzatto x fem!reader
→ by @rassvetsky (smut!)
"you are so mean to me" • carmen berzatto x reader
→ by @writers-hes (angst, jealous!carmy, fighting, fluff)
#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#the bear#the bear season 1#the bear season 2#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto#fic recommendation#carmen berzatto x yn#the bear x reader#carmen berzatto x gn!reader#carmen berzatto x oc#the bear hulu#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader
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recoil
carmen berzatto x f!reader smut
summary: he pushes you too hard. you push back
etc: nsfw, fingering, piv sex, carmy kind of being a dick sorry.... but then hes nice
a/n: haii this is an excerpt from a long fic i'm writing i just really wanted to write smut abt carmen first LMFAO it's like the reader is his roommate due to situations umm
word count: 1677
“Again, Chef,” Carmen was right behind you, watching you chop carrots on the cutting board in your apartment. You were now finding it redundant that you had asked him to call you “Chef” when he was teaching you how to cook.
“Jesus, Carmy,” You sighed exasperatedly, pushing your already sliced coins away and readying a new vegetable.
He hummed a little, “I said ‘again.’” His voice was low in your ear and your knife almost slipped in your palm. You continued to steadily slice at the vegetable until his voice was sharp in your ear again. “It’s still not good enough. You have to go faster.”
You groaned, loudly, tired of him. “Carmy! It’s, like, twelve-thirty! I want to go to fucking bed!”
He took the knife from you, giving you what could only be categorized as a glare. He took a place next to you, rather than behind you, and quickly chopped the carrot into thin coins, faster than you could ever imagine to do. “Yeah? There. Go to sleep, try again in the morning.” There was a bite to his words.
“Carmen,” You replied, grabbing his wrist.
“What?” He snapped and you pulled him into a kiss.
He was surprised, obviously, but he dropped the knife onto the counter and pressed the brunt of his body weight into you. “Fuck,” You groaned against his lips and he growled against yours.
“Shut up,” He replied, picking you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist and he could walk into his bedroom.
You didn’t venture into Carmen’s room. Ever. It smelled overwhelmingly like him, like earth and his method soap. His room was neat and messy at the same time, with clothes strewn across a chair he had, but his bed was made neatly, sheets tucked under the mattress.
He dropped you onto the mattress, ensuring you were fully settled into the middle of his bed. He crawled over you, kissing you again, his lips playing sloppily on yours.
“Carmy,” You managed to moan out between kisses.
He also moaned your name and it sounded sweet, like he had been waiting for this. He pulled off his shirt, and you would’ve thought it was a shame because of how the shirt hugged his biceps, but seeing the muscles underneath the shirt was way better.
“Shit, Carm, didn’t know you were fuckin’ ripped,” You said, pressing your hands into his shoulders and then letting them travel down his torso.
He laughed a little, “I like to keep it tight.”
You joined him in a small chuckle, “Don’t ever say that again.”
“My bad,” He replied, leaning down and kissing your neck. You groaned a little as his kisses turned into soft bites, leaving marks on your neck. Yep, definitely wearing a turtleneck into work tomorrow.
He helped you pull your shirt off, molding his hands to your breasts and massaging them. He dipped down, kissing your collarbone and then scraping his teeth over it. He brought his hand down, rubbing you through your shorts. If he were to be feeling you over your underwear, you were sure he would feel the fact that you were soaked through, all because of a little kissing.
You locked your fingers together on the back of his neck, bringing him down to kiss you some more because you had barely begun to kiss him and you were already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.
“Is this okay? I can do this, right?” He murmured into your ear, hand still rubbing small circles over your clothed heat.
“Yes,” You breathed out, squirming against his hand.
He swallowed as if regaining self-control. “Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
You nibbled on your bottom lip, “Really?”
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to,” He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
“Fine. I want you to hurry up and put your dick in me. I’ve waited long enough.”
His eyes widened in surprise and he blinked momentarily. “Condom,” He said quickly, as if realizing the gravity of the situation.
“Carmen, no. I’ve wanted this for god knows how long, and I’m on birth control. Fuck me raw.” He dropped his head, groaning.
“Okay, fuck, okay. Raw.” He said the word as if it were something new to him.
He wasted little time taking his pants off and you saw the thick outline of his cock through his boxers. Carmen curled his fingers into your shorts and underwear, pulling them down. He wet his lips at the sight of your dripping pussy and pushed his hand through his hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”
“Shut up,” You replied, face flushing.
“No, no, it’s good. It’s cute,” He said, curving the shape of his hand to fit your cunt. You throbbed against his palm and he chuckled a little. “You’re eager for this, aren’t you?”
You swallowed, digging fingernails into his shoulders. “Shut the hell up.”
“Mm-mm,” He replied, one of his fingers pushing carefully into you. You let out a soft noise as just that one finger stretched you out. He had thick fingers, you realized. You had always been semi-aware of it, but this really went to show it.
“Carmy,” You groaned, digging your nails into him a little harder.
He sunk another finger into you and you let a wanton moan escape you, hands making fists in the sheets.
His fingers spread apart inside of you and you could’ve sworn you were seeing stars. “Carmy,” You moaned, again, his name was the only word your mind could come up with.
“Shh, you’re taking it so well,” He murmured and you nodded.
He pumped his fingers in and out of you at almost an agonizing pace, each movement somehow finding some different spot inside of you and drawing out noises you didn’t even know you could make.
He pulled his fingers out of you when he seemed to be satisfied with how undone he had made you.
He wrapped his hands around your waist as best as he could, lifting your hips up ever so slightly. You kept your position, trembling, as he pulled his boxers down. “Shit,” You sighed softly, realizing that this was, in fact, happening.
“You okay?” He asked, dragging his thumb over your cheek.
You nodded and then swallowed. “It’s not every day someone gets a chance to fuck their childhood crush.”
“It could be,” He said with a small smirk that brought a flush to your already heated cheeks.
“Oh, shut up,” You huffed out, spreading your legs as if inviting him in.
He chuckled, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
He positioned the head of his cock with your entrance and you let out a large and shuddering gasp as he pushed inside of you. A groan escaped him as his cock was swallowed by the warmth of your cunt.
There was the smallest hint of pain as his cock stretched you out and he intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing every small inch of skin he could to comfort you.
He began to pull out and you already missed the way he filled you. He rolled his hips back into you, slowly and carefully. You leaned your head back into the pillow, biting on your lip as a pleased whine bubbled over your lips.
“Is that okay?” He asked gently, continuing the soft push and pull of his hips.
“Yes,” You gasped, finally getting used to the feeling of him inside of you.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” He whispered, leaning down and kissing your neck softly.
You nodded in agreeance and this time he kissed your lips as he moved his hips. His hips sped up their pace and he set a fast rhythm, snapping his hips in and out of you.
You let loud moans leave your lips, your nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders and back. “Carmen,” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his torso. No way in hell were you letting him go.
“No, you’re taking me so well, good girl,” He murmured into your ear, nipping at the slope of your neck.
The praise made you gasp and you pulled him down for another kiss and it was heated and messy. He groaned into your mouth as you tightened around him and you bit down on his lip as his hand traveled down to play with your clit. “Stop,” You breathed out, even if you didn’t want him to.
“Yeah, you sure about that?” He asked with a chuckle.
You pouted. “Obviously not.”
His movements had momentarily stilled and he suddenly snapped his hips into you. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the loud yelp that came from you from being too loud.
He smiled, obviously pleased at your reaction. His pace became a little erratic as you tightened around him again. “Jesus, Carmy, I’m so close,” You breathed out.
“Mhm, me too, baby, me too,” He said softly, carding fingers through your hair and murmuring other sweet nothings into your ears.
Heat spread under your skin as you realized how close you were to your climax. “Gonna cum, ah, ‘m so close,” You groaned, hands going up and pushing into his hair. You tugged at the ringlets as soft, pleased noises left your lips.
“That’s right, baby, go ahead and cum on my cock,” He said, nipping at your neck.
With one more thrust of his cock, you came undone. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned, your walls fluttering around his length as you rode out your orgasm.
Carmen gasped a little, pulling out of you quickly, his come spilling out onto your stomach.
“You’re good, you’re so fucking good,” He whispered, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands cupping the sides of your face.
You laughed a little as he kissed you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
A little more kissing, a little more touching, and you were falling asleep in his arms.
#my writing#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader smut#the bear#the bear x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen x sydney#smut#x reader#carmen berzatto smut
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FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.
A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!
PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.
WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
it was a Sunday.
The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.
You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.
The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)
It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.
Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”
“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.
Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”
“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”
That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.
Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!
You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”
Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”
“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.
Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”
“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”
Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”
“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”
Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”
You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.
Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.
“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.
Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”
“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”
Sydney says, “give it time.”
“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.
Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”
“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”
“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.
“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.
You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”
Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.
“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”
“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.
“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.
Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”
“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.
Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”
“Hmm…it doesn’t.”
Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—
“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—
Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”
He nods.
“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”
“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.
If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.
He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.
That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.
You weren’t clueless.
He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.
What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?
The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.
“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.
“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.
“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”
“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.
Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”
“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.
See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?
You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”
Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—
“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”
“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”
You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”
Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.
“Everything okay in there, Neil?”
“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”
“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.
The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.
If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.
You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?
You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.
A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.
“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.
It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.
“…are you asking me to hang out?”
“We had fun at that club way back when no?”
“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”
You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.
The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.
Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.
“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”
You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.
“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”
“So…?”
“Can’t do it.”
“You didn’t even hear all the details!”
“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”
“I could never!”
“You know you could always ask carmy-
“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.
Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”
You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.
“Do you want me to hang up on you?”
“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”
“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”
“…whatever that means.”
“Right.”
You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.
Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.
Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.
Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.
You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”
“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.
“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.
“I’m not here to do think pieces.”
“…aren’t you a writer?”
“Have a good night, nat.”
“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”
Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.
“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.
His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.
“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”
The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.
Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.
You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.
Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.
The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.
He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.
Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.
“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.
Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”
“Watching you prep.”
You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”
A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”
“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.
“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.
You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”
“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.
Which is a sight to see.
You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”
Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”
“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.
Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.
“The hell is this place?”
You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”
“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”
You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.
“What looks good?”
“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”
The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”
“Sounds good...I guess?”
“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.
“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.
You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”
“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.
You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”
It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.
“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.
You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”
“That’s not really my problem?”
“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”
Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”
“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.
You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.
*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*
Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.
Not you.
“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.
You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”
Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.
“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.
That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.
So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.
“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.
Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”
“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”
Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”
Sydney.
You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.
“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.
His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”
You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.
The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.
Communication was important people!
And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.
“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.
Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”
Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”
“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.
“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”
She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.
“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.
Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”
Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”
“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.
Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”
“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”
“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”
Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.
“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”
“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”
“You wanna do this with me right now?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“I thought we could move past what happened—
“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—
“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—
“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”
“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”
Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.
“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.
“I saw you—
“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.
You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.
“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.
You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”
Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.
He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.
“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.
He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”
“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”
Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.
He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.
Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.
“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”
And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!
You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”
You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.
You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.
If you believe in that shit.
So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.
He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.
So you took carmy’s input into consideration.
With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.
Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.
He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.
Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.
Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉
“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.
You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.
Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”
“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”
“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.
Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???
Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.
He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.
Syd: well youre gonna.
~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~
“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.
Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”
He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.
“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”
Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”
“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.
You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”
“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”
“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.
Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”
“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”
Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”
And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.
“What’s funny?”
“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”
Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”
“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.
The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.
“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.
You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”
“What’s the rating?”
“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.
He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”
“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”
“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.
Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”
Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”
“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”
“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”
That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”
And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.
“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”
“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”
“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”
“Yet.”
Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”
“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”
Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”
“I said that?”
“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”
Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.
Someone just had to look hard enough.
“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”
“What do you want?”
“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”
“You swore off love.”
“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”
Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?
Maybe.
Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.
He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.
“How’d—
“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.
It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?
So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.
“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.
You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.
“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.
Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”
You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”
Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”
“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”
Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”
“On what? My review or showing up?”
“Both.”
“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”
“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.
And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.
You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.
Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.
And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
February fluff anthology series continues here.
#Spotify#queued#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#the bear s3#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x black reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x black reader#sydney adamu#carmy x sydney#natalie berzatto#richie jerimovich#michael berzatto#marcus the bear#luca the bear#february prompts#february fluff#neil fak#jeremy allen white
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Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.
PART 1/2.
warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)
a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!
You needed inspiration.
With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.
You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.
Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.
The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.
Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.
It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.
You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.
Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.
"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.
You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.
"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.
Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.
"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.
"Shit. Really?"
"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.
"Not really."
You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.
If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.
Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair
"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."
"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.
"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.
"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"
"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."
A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.
"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.
You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.
You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.
He changed you. You were softer, calmer.
And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.
Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.
It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.
You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.
#carmen berzatto#the bear#carmen berzatto x reader#painter!reader x carmen#ugh i love this#angsty fluff#carmy is so cute i need him#sorry i haven't posted#depression is a bitch#uni is kicking my ass#like seriously#anyways yeah#enjoy this#love you guys mwah
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Winter Writing Prompts 2022 Masterlist
I’m participating in a ~Fluffcember~ 2022 this year using this list by...Me. If you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on this post or send in an ask.
The highlighted prompt is the one filled in the given day.
Day One - Don Eppes x Reader
Prompts: Ice skating/ Wintry/ First Date
Day Two - Angel Reyes x Reader
Prompts: Crunchy/ Honey/ Bake Sale
Day Three - James Bond x Reader
Prompts: Snow/ Shopping/ Undercover
Day Four - Indiana Jones x Reader
Prompts: Cider/ Moon/ Matchmaker/Matchmaking Gone Wrong
Day Five - Raymond Smith
Prompts: Shiver/ Warm /Old Enemies
Day Six - Frankie Morales x Reader
Prompts: Mittens/ Kid/ Parent and child's teacher/caretaker/nanny
Day Seven - Duke Leto Atreides x Reader
Prompts: Soup/ Memories/ Next Door Neighbor
Day Eight - Don Draper x Reader
Prompts: Party/ Locket/ Everyone can see it but them
Day Nine - Javier Peña x Reader
Prompts: Coat/ Bundle/ Blind Date
Day Ten - Matt Murdock x Reader
Prompts: Cards/ Sassy/ Office Party
Day Eleven - Santiago Garcia x Reader
Prompts: Hot chocolate / Tired/ Enemies to Lovers
Day Twelve - Marcus Pike x Reader
Prompts: Jingle/ Basket/ Country Inn
Day Thirteen - Carmy Berzatto x Reader
Prompts: Snuggle/ Book/ There Was Only One Bed
Day Fourteen - Harvey Specter x Reader
Prompts: Mistletoe/ Hands/ Fake Dating
Day Fifteen - Benny Miller x Reader
Prompts: Marshmallow/ Cabin/ Fish Out of Water
Day Sixteen - Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader
Prompts: Candy Cane/ Playlist/ Oh My God They Were Roommates
Day Seventeen - Poe Dameron x Reader
Prompts: Cookies/ Mug/ Love at First Sight
Day Eighteen - Jonathan Levy x Reader
Prompts: Gifts/ Fluffy/ Single Parent
Day Nineteen - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader
Prompts: Lights/ Holly/ Childhood Sweethearts
Day Twenty - Josh Lyman x Reader
Prompts: Merry/ Explore/ Save me From a Bad Date
Day Twenty-One - Bruce Wayne x Reader
Prompts: Sales/ Sparkling/ Opposites Attract
Day Twenty-Two - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Prompts: Stocking/ Hum/ Meet-Cute
Day Twenty-Three - Bishop Losa x Reader
Prompts: Wrapping Paper/ Travel/ Home for the Holidays
Day Twenty-Four - Nathan Bateman x Reader
Prompts: Dinner/ Peaceful/ Rivals
Day Twenty-Five - Eddie Munson x Reader
Prompts: Fruitcake/ Old-Fashioned/ Learning-to-Love
Day Twenty-Six - Javi Gutierrez x Reader
Prompts: Quilt/ Scrooge/ Sunny vs Grumpy
Day Twenty-Seven - Will Miller x Reader
Prompts: Icicles/ Smooth/ Pen Pals
Day Twenty-Eight - Steve Rogers x Reader
Prompts: Heater/ Sunrise/ Sleepover
Day Twenty-Nine - Oberyn Martell x Reader
Prompts: Dance/ Fireside/ Frozen
Day Thirty - Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Prompts: Scarf/ Flu / Hurt/Comfort
Day Thirty-One - George Russell x Reader
Prompts: Midnight/ Kiss/ Forced proximity
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Hi 💗 I hope you’re doing well! This is soooo random and might not be much but may I request another roommate Carmy one-shot where he fixes something around the apartment and looks really hot while doing it? So, reader gets turned on and wants to show her appreciation for his handiness, meanwhile he’s like, I’d fix anything for you. And things just get hot and heavy and maybe even kinda fluffy. I’m just on a Carmy binge rn, and I loveeeee how you write him! 🥹❤️
Hands On.
Synopsis - A broken lightbulb leads to some interesting discoveries for both you and Carmen.
Pairing - Roommate!Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader
Warnings - smut. cursing. carmen's big ego.
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 1.5k
Author's Note - thank you for this request!! another roommate!carmy fic <3 this takes place in the roommates universe, but it's up to you if it comes before or after the other fics - there's no timeline!! this one got a little filthy, actually. the roommate series seems to be getting dirtier and dirtier... i would apologise, but i'm not sorry.
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 sat reading a book on your bed when the room is suddenly plunged into darkness.
You shriek in shock, and Carmy comes running, socked feet sliding on wooden floors through the apartment.
"Honey? You okay?"
He knocks twice before swinging the door open, looking around.
"Why are you sat in the dark?"
You huff and throw your book in his direction.
"I wasn't, until one second ago. The light just went off."
"Did it blow?"
"What?"
"Did it make a noise, when it went out? Did it flicker? Pop?"
"I don't know, Carm. It just kinda... went out."
He grabs his phone from his pocket to use as a flashlight, shining it at your overhead lamp.
"Looks like the bulb has blown. I think have a spare in the kitchen cabinet. Hold on."
He departs, leaving you sat on your bed, unable to see much. There's a warmth slowly building in your stomach, and you take a breath. Why are you so flushed, all of a sudden?
"Here. Got one. You think you can hold the light for me while I replace it?"
You nod and jump out of your spot, grabbing the phone from his hand. You point it towards the ceiling, watching as Carmy reaches up to unscrew the old bulb. His white t shirt rides up his stomach as he raises his arms, exposing his taut muscles. You exhale a shudder of a breath, willing yourself to calm down.
"Honey, can you stay a little more still please? The light is shaking."
"Sorry, Carm."
He winks at you before reaching up again, screwing in the new bulb. You can't stop staring at his arms, his strong biceps flexing as he works. His hands, big and rough, completely dwarf the little lightbulb. You know how those fingers feel as they brush across your skin. Little moments - like him skimming your back as he passes you in the kitchen - are imprinted in your mind, swirling around at a million miles per hour.
You're practically panting by the time he's finished, willing yourself to calm down.
"You okay, honey?"
You don't hear him. Instead, you're watching him run his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. You want to pull it as hard as he'll let you.
A hand on your shoulder startles you back to reality.
"You okay?"
You clear your throat, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thank you, Carm. Don't know what I'd do without you. Seriously."
He chuckles, running his fingers up and down your arm.
"It's not a problem. I'd fix anything for you."
Your eyes shoot up from the floor to meet his, ocean blue irises focused on your face.
"...Really?"
He looks taken aback by your question.
"Yeah, really. You didn't know that? I'd do anything for you, sweetheart. Genuinely, anything."
You don't think before you move. You lunge forward and connect your lips to his, fingers tangling into his hair just like you imagined.
Carmy kisses you back with more passion than you expected, hands gripping at your hips to pull you flush against his body. He slips his tongue into your mouth as you happily let him take the lead, humming in contentment.
Eventually, you pull back, gasping for air. Carmy rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath.
"What was that for?" he whispers.
"Just wanted to thank you."
"That was a hell of a thanks," he chuckles.
You smile, running your thumb across his cheek.
"You're so fucking hot when you fix stuff for me around the apartment."
"Wait... what?"
"Fuck, Carm. I got so turned on watching you drill that kitchen cabinet last week that I had to take a cold shower."
"That's what does it for you?"
"It's just you. You're good with your hands. It's fucking sexy."
"Yeah?"
He's smirking now, clearly enjoying having his ego inflated. You know you shouldn't, but you continue. You grab one of his hands, running your fingers over the palm.
"I imagine that my hands are yours when I touch myself."
He groans, low and rumbled.
"That's what I think about, Carm. At night, when I can't sleep. Think about the way you'd touch me, the way your hands would feel on my thighs, my tits, wrapped around my throat."
"Fuck."
"I'm surprised you haven't heard me. I try to be quiet, but I'm not very good at it."
Carmen's chest is heaving, eyes dark and watchful. You can see the thoughts forming in his head, filthy and menacing.
"Such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he drawls, running this thumb over your bottom lip carefully. "Maybe we should put it to better use, hmm?"
You whine at his tone, but you're smug on the inside. There he is, you think. The Carmen that you don't get to see very often. The version of him that's domineering, possessive, assertive. You like him like this.
"Wanna see how pretty you look on your knees for me."
You can't say no to that.
You sink down onto the carpet, looking up at him with wide eyes. He looks as if his control is wearing thin. You want it to snap.
"Now what?" you tease.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Play innocent. Not after all that shit you just said."
You smirk, running your fingertips over the tent in his sweatpants. He grabs your wrist, holding it tightly.
"Don't fuckin' tease, honey. You and I both know I'm not patient."
"Something you should definitely work on," you wink, pulling his pants and underwear down his legs.
Your mouth waters as you look at him. He's pretty all over.
"Gonna thank you properly now," you murmur, before taking him in your mouth gently.
Carmy groans, hand flying to the back of your head. He tangles his fingers into your hair, keeping you anchored in front of him. He doesn't force you anywhere, just keeps you still.
"Goddamn, you look pretty with your mouth stuffed full of me," he drawls. "This what you wanted, baby?"
Baby. That's a new one. The nickname goes straight to your core, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache. You nod in response to him, taking him deeper.
"Fuck. So perfect. Fuckin' made for me. Only me."
You nod again, reassuring him you've heard.
"Tell me, baby. Please. Use your words."
You release him with a pop, drool running down your chin and landing on your chest. You take a deep breath, licking your lips.
"I'm yours, Carm. Always have been. I'm yours. This pussy is yours."
You swear you see his knees buckle as he smirks down at you. He looks like the cat that got the cream.
"Gonna fuck you all over the apartment, baby. Every single surface. Doesn't matter if we break something. I'm good with my hands after all."
He winks at you before guiding himself back to your mouth, sinking down to the hilt. You hollow your cheeks and suck, trying not to smile when he practically whimpers. It's a power trip, having a man like Carmy at your mercy.
"Gonna cum down your pretty throat, angel."
You pull away to murmur against his skin.
"Want you to. Please, Carm. Wanna taste you. Wanna swallow it all."
He groans, deep and visceral, as you double down on your efforts, determined to get him to his ending. You dig your nails into his thighs, scratching down the skin as his hand tightens in your hair. The edge of pain is what undoes him, muscles tensing as he spills down your throat.
You catch his eyes, ensuring you have his attention. Swallowing carefully, you stick your tongue out, showing him proof of your promise.
"Good fuckin' girl," he breathes, dropping to his knees to connect your lips, languid and filthy.
Carmy smooths the hair back from your face, placing a tender kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth. Collapsing back against the bed, he pulls you with him, wrapping you in his arms.
"You okay?" he whispers into your ear.
"More than okay. You?"
"I've never been better."
You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, white and beaming.
The two of you sit on the floor for a while, unbothered by the passing of time. You're enjoying being so close, the proximity a welcome change. Eventually, Carmy breaks through the silence.
"So, I've been meaning to mount our TV on the wall... you wanna watch?"
You elbow him in the side, heat creeping up your cheeks as you both laugh.
DIY suddenly doesn't seem all that bad.
@dins-cyarika
#roommate!carmy berzatto x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto#roommate!carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#the bear imagine#the bear smut#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto smut#jeremy allen white#the bear x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader
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ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza
Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4
Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.
Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.
Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you
A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!
CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza
It always stays the same.
This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.
No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.
He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for?
What is he even for?
These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.
Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.
Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…
The quiet is dangerous.
It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land.
A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:
Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—
“Mornin’, Carmy.”
Until his roommate wakes up, that is.
When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.
He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there.
If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.
They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home. They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…
That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.
On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…
He’s grateful. Incredibly so.
And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—
It always stays the same.
“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.
Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind.
“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”
“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.
“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”
“...And that would be?”
“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look. No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”
He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh.
“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.”
“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”
“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”
“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”
“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues.
“Name one,” they argue back.
“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too.
“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.”
“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”
“But.”
“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new.
“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all.
Says more about him than them, he supposes.
“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.”
“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head.
It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not.
It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh.
“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.
“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”
“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows.
Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic.
He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth.
By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them.
The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips.
Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.
In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—
But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip.
“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor.
“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent.
His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe.
“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”
“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”
Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking.
“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”
“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”
So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.
She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?
He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens.
Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.
“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”
Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.
“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket.
“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted.
“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”
“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.”
“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”
“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”
“The fuck? Why ?”
“Canceled,” he replies simply.
“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”
“Not yet.”
“Great.”
“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”
“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere.
“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.”
“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”
“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”
“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”
Silence. The spark of a lighter.
“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside.
Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.
He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably. There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—
Shoot me a text, okay?
He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers.
Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.
“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”
“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all.
“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it.
“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on.
. . . . .
It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.
Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird.
It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.
Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.
With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms.
Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.
The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.
You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.
Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.
Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it.
He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.
Oh, he realizes. That’s them.
The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—
There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.
Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all.
They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron.
His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—
“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away.
“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself.
He forgot.
“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.
It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.
“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings.
“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“
“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”
“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.
“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”
“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”
“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.
“Shitty day for you, too?”
“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”
“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”
Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too.
“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”
“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected.
They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue.
“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up.
“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?”
“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.
“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say.
“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”
“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.”
He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does.
He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.
The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else.
He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him.
He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—
He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”
The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him.
This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.
He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window.
“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”
“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window.
“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.
“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused.
Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though.
It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed.
He wonders if they’ve noticed.
“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair.
“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”
“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?”
He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke.
“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh.
“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”
“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”
“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”
“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”
“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”
They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects.
“And?”
“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.
“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.
“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.
“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight.
“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”
“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”
“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”
They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.
Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does.
This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud.
“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!”
“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”
“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space.
“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”
“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter.
“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face.
“Oh,” he reacts mildly.
“Shit, I’m so sorry—”
“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”
“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically.
“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”
“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten.
When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected.
“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”
“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”
“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it.
“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”
“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.
“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”
“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”
“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is.
“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth.
“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food.
“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?”
“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”
“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”
They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it.
“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.” Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…”
“...And?”
They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it.
“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”
As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does.
“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.
Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go.
Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?
But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.
He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten.
The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end.
And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed.
“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”
“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.
“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”
“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.
Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep.
But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.
“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Weed,” they say with a shrug.
“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes.
“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”
“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”
“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”
“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”
“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”
“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.
“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly.
“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”
“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”
“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.
“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face.
“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently.
“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling.
I can’t fucking do this.
The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear.
“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.
What the fuck are you doing?
Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.
“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”
"Night,” he murmurs back.
This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it.
He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things.
This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.
#carmy berzatto#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear fx#jeremy allen white#lip gallagher#the bear fanfiction#hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now#they're around the same length#AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!!#my writing#my fics#carmy#reader#alexithymia fic
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Easy As
A Carmen Berzatto Universe
Wow! We’re already at 10 installments! I’m having so much fun writing this series, I hope you all area continuing to enjoy it!
Vanessa Monaghan is the breath of fresh air that Carmen had been gasping for.
Page 10: Roommate
“Hi Roomie,” Vanessa pulled the front door open excitedly. Carmen’s grinned wildly, spanning from ear to ear as he stood in front of her, two duffels crossed his body, a backpack on his back and an empty canned tomato box in his hands.
“I’m here,” he was practically breathless.
Today, after 20 months of dating, Carmen was moving in.
To be fair, she was honestly surprised he had as much left at his place as he did. He’d been sleeping at her place 80% of the time, save for a few last nights at the restaurant and he couldn’t be happier to be adding twenty minutes onto his commute.
“Let me help,” she said, grabbing his box and leading the way into the apartment. “I cleaned out a bunch of space in the bathroom and closet,” she explained. “And I also emptied the shoe shelf in the guest room,” he’d follow her anywhere frankly.
Carmen made quick work of his things. He’d squared away his few toiletries while Vanessa got to work unpacking his clothes into the closet.
Heading over to the kitchen, he laid out his knife roll, a few pots and pans and a box full of his other tools. He had more items for the kitchen than anything else.
“You’re unpacked, but I wasn’t sure where you’d like two of your jackets, in the closet or the front hall,” Vanessa said, joining Carmen in the kitchen.
“I’m sure where they are is great,” he said, bringing her into his arms and holding her close.
“Sleepover every night,” she giggled conspiratorially. “M’gonna steal all your clothes.”
Carmen laughed, burying his face into her neck and inhaling the sweet smell of her.
They had been working out the logistics over the past few weeks – all bills would be split evenly. Vanessa would pay the HOA and they’d split her mortgage. When they got a car in the summer, they’d split the payment with Carmen paying the insurance and Vanessa paying the garage fee.
“It just feels like something exciting is starting,” Vanessa said, leaning up to kiss Carmen soundly.
“You’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” Carmen replied, holding her closely.
“What should we do? First day living together,” she sighed dreamily.
“Anything you want,” he replied.
“I’m a little hungry for some lunch and then maybe we can take a bath?” She asked, ‘s’chilly outside.” Carmen hadn’t taken a bath in probably 10 years, he figured he was due.
“Sure baby, what are you hungry for? I’ll make ya anything you want,” He said, rubbing his hands up and down her back.
“This might actually be more like a Chopped type of situation because I have no idea what’s even in the fridge,” she admitted, making him laugh.
“You did this on purpose, huh?” He asked.
“If you go for the ice cream maker, I’ll throw my panties at you,” she replied, causing them both to burst into laughter.
After a thorough inspection of the fridge and pantry, Carmen eyed enough items to make a good grilled cheese and tomato soup. Though he’d rather make it fresh, he wasn’t opposed to doctoring up a carton from Whole Foods.
“Don’t burn ‘em,” Carmen murmured, standing behind Vanessa as she watched the sandwiches dutifully, her spatula in hand. He pressed another kiss to her neck, grinning softly as he felt her goosebumps appear.
“Stop distracting me, I’m hungry,” she said, pushing her body back into his crotch. He held her hips in place before sliding one hand up her stomach to her breasts, cupping one gently and running his thumb back and forth over her nipple through her soft cotton T-shirt. “Carmy,” she whined, swatting at his hand with her spatula. He laughed, retreating and walking over to the fridge.
“Babe, you’ve got five kinds of bottled water, a Brita pitcher and a year’s worth of ginger ale in here,” he commented. “There’s more water than food.”
“I get thirsty!” Her voice went up an octave. He grabbed a can of ginger ale, pouring her a glass of water before she carefully flipped their sandwiches on the griddle. It wasn’t long until they were sitting at the kitchen island, Vanessa dunking her sandwich crusts into the soup. “Fuck Carm, this is so good,” she groaned.
“It’s not bad,” he agreed. He didn’t get to do it often, and the more he thought about it, the worse he felt, but it was incredibly rewarding to cook for Vanessa.
“Baby, they’re amazing,” she replied, taking a bite of her sandwich and letting the cheese pull from her mouth.
It seemed that Carmen and Vanessa never left the honeymoon phase of their relationship – at least, it certainly felt that way as he watched her undress and join him in the steaming hot tub. She’d poured in some lavender crystals and just a bit of soap that made the water creamy and bubbly.
“C’mere,” she motioned with her finger, gesturing him over. He moved slowly and carefully, joining her on the other side of the tub. She guided him to rest his back against her chest and he melted into her embrace. “S’nice,” she whispered, kissing behind his ear. He mumbled in agreement, his eyelids heavy as he felt her breasts pressing against his back. He felt her move, and droplets of water hitting the bath before he felt a wet, warm presence on his skin. He dropped his head back against her shoulder as she ran a washcloth slowly across his chest and shoulders. “I love your little chest hair,” she whispered, running the cloth over the small patch between his pecs, “and these arms.”
Vanessa’s hand traveled down his chest to his stomach, where his toned stomach fluttered underneath her hand. She methodically dragged the cloth up and down his stomach and chest while she gently kissed his neck before fixating on one spot, sucking gently.
It took zero time for him to be fully hard, his pink tip just a few inches below the water line.
“Oh,” Vanessa murmured as he hand brushed against his erection. “Let me take care of you, Carmy.”
She set the drenched wash cloth on the edge of the tub before sliding her hand down his stomach yet again, circling his cock with her hand. He hissed at the initial touch, doing his best to keep from bucking in her hand.
Between the pressure of her fingers, the silky bath water, he breasts against his back and her lips, currently sucking his earlobe, he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. All the pain, suffering, late nights, early mornings, verbal abuse and emotional turmoil was worth it if it lead him right to Vanessa and this moment.
She pumped him methodically, a choked groan releasing from his throat.
“It’s okay, baby,” Vanessa cooed in his ear. “I want you to cum,” she purred. Her other hand appeared from around the side of his hip, reaching down to cup his balls in her fingers, rolling them gently.
“Ness,” he gasped, hips stuttering at the feeling.
“Come on, Carm,” she whispered into his ear before repositioning to blow gently into the other. “You can do it, baby,” she encouraged. Carmen had tears in his eyes as he shot off into the water, his chest giving a soft hiccup.
“Fuck,” he hissed, hips stuttering again as she swiped her thumb over his tip.
“Good boy,” she murmured, causing his skin to prickle and hips to jerk once more. He melted back down into the water, turning to kiss her thoroughly. After kissing her nearly breathless, he rest his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he said earnestly.
“I love you, too,” she smiled. “I can’t wait to do this with you for the rest of our lives,” she smiled.
“You proposin’?” He asked, nuzzling into her cheek.
“No, but making you aware,” she giggled, kissing him once again. “Think you can rinse me off in the shower? I’m all soapy.”
There was quite literally nothing else Carmen would rather do.
#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x ofc#carmy smut#carmy fluff#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto#carmy x oc#the bear hulu#the bear#carmen berzatto fluff
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just a favor
Carmen Carmy Berzatto x F!Reader
Summary: Your roommate and close friend Carmy offers you some assistance after you share with him the details of your shitty date.
Warnings: smut, explicit, oral sex (female receiving), mutual masturabation, handjob, swearing, a bit awkward in some places because its Carmy
World count: 2.9k
A/N: Not sure if this is any good but I've had this idea for a bit now so I had to sit down and actually write it. First time writing Carmy so if its shitty just dooont tell me. Thank you to @chelseasdagger and @baby-walsh for encouraging me to actually write this and thank you to @chelseasdagger for proofreading!
“So? How do I look?”
Carmy glances back over his shoulder. Looking into the apartment through the fire escape window, he squints a bit to try and see you a little better.
“Sorry, what?”
He asks, obviously distracted as usual, and you change your pose slightly, showing off your outfit.
“How do I look? I got a date.”
“Oh…oh really?”
“Mhm…so?”
“Oh yeah. Date yeah, you look great!”
He settles on an answer, pushing his hand through his hair before crossing his arms in front of his chest, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“Well, thanks.”
You mumble under your breath with a little smile before climbing out through the window and onto the fire escape. Carmy watches you for a moment before handing the cigarette over. You nod softly as a thank you, and place the cigarette between your lips. The end lights up as you take a deep breath in before letting the smoke out with a quiet sigh.
“Nervous?”
He asks quietly, and you chuckle, leaning back against the windowsill as you hand the cigarette back and shake your head.
“No, not really, I just…guess I don't like the guy that much.”
You explain, and Carmy frowns at your words.
“Wait, so…so why do you…”
You shrug, not really sure what answer to give him.
“He's cute.”
You look over and watch Carmy nod slowly with an unsure expression.
“Okay, I…guess that makes sense.”
“Does it though?”
You look up at the sky slowly turning darker now after the sun set somewhere behind the silhouettes of the city, silently doubting your own choices.
“Well it… I mean”
You clear your throat, and he looks over while finishing the cigarette.
“Doesn't matter.”
You try to dismiss the whole thing.
“Just don't stay up waiting on me for too long, okay?”
You instruct, climbing back into your apartment through the small window.
“Good thing I wasn't planning to!”
Carmy yells back, looking over his shoulder again, watching as you wave goodbye before shutting the door behind you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a deep breath in before pushing his hand through his hair. He exhales loudly, scratching the back of his head, and for a moment he considers running after you.
“Shit.”
He mumbles quietly. Finishing the cigarette, he tosses the end of it into the ashtray on the windowsill before accepting defeat.
Carmy drags his hand down his face with a big sigh. Noticing the sound of the TV in the living room, he realizes he missed the moment you got back home. He didn't sleep much, the train of thoughts rushing through his head in what seemed like a never ending cycle, successfully keeping him from getting any actually rest during the few hours you were out.
“Fuck.”
He mumbles quietly as he makes his way out of the small bedroom.
You turn at the sound of his footsteps, giving a small smile and a wave before you gesture, inviting him to join you over on the couch.
“Can't sleep?”
You ask, and he sighs, rubbing his hand over his shoulder and flopping down on the couch next to you.
“Didn't feel like it.”
You shrug, moving closer as you throw your legs over his lap, more in a search of heat than some kind of sudden need for romance.
“That sounds healthy.”
He nods at your voice, clearing his throat and crossing his arms in front of his chest, eyes on the TV the entire time. You notice the way he makes sure not to look down at your thighs, now crossing his lap, and you breathe out a little laugh.
“So how was the date?”
Carmy asks after a moment, turning his head in your direction, his eyes still on the TV.
“Ehh, you know…awful.”
“Really?”
His attention is now focused completely on you.
“Terrible.”
Carmy snorts, and you glare at him with an exaggerated, offended expression.
“You serious?”
He shrugs as an answer.
“Just...had a feeling. I’m sorry, okay, how so?”
You roll your eyes but decide to let it go.
“Well, for starters, the food fucking-”
“Sucked?”
“It fucking sucked, Carmy, Jesus Christ, I don't know where the fuck he found that fucking place, Jesus. I mean, I've had better shit at convenience stores than whatever the fuck that was.”
He chuckles quietly with a soft smile, his bright blue eyes glancing over your face as you go over the details of your painfully ordinary and boring date.
“Second thing…he's just an ass.”
“But we knew that.”
Carmy points out, and you nod, admitting your fault.
“We did know that, yeah, was my bad.”
“That's okay.”
He comforts you with those two simple words.
“I mean…we all make shitty decisions sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
You prop your head up on your hand, resting your elbow on the armrest of the couch.
“Okay, so we got a shitty guy.”
He lists, counting on his fingers.
“Mhm.”
You nod, letting him continue.
“Shitty food?”
“The shittiest.”
“Okay, he’s got two strikes then?”
Camry asks, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waits for your answer.
“Well…”
You change your position a little bit, letting out a quiet laugh as you close your eyes and sigh softy.
“There’s a third thing.”
“Third strike? I mean, three strikes on one date, that’s pretty fucking bad if you ask me.”
Camry makes you laugh again, it’s comforting how natural it feels to just be around him. Even after a long and busy day that ended with a not so great date, you can still feel the need to be around him.
“Three strikes…that’s pretty fucking shitty.”
“Yep.”
He turns back to the TV, his arms crossed in front of his chest again. Your legs are still in his lap, and you catch yourself staring at him for a bit too long.
“So what’s the last thing?”
“Hmm?”
You realize you were too busy looking at his features in the moment and the words fly over your head.
“What was the third thing? What did he do?”
“Oh, it’s…it’s more so what he didn’t do.”
Camry frowns, confused as he tries to read your expression. One of his hands falls onto your lap.
You shrug after a moment.
“I didn't…get to come. He didn't do it.”
The way his eyes get wider for a second almost makes you scoff, but you stop yourself at the last second.
“Don’t look at me like that! It wasn't my fault, I told him what to do, he just, didn't fucking feel like it.”
“Sorry! I get it-I mean, it…not like that I don’t just… I’m just-like, I’m just trying-”
He stumbles over his words, pushing his fingers through his hair before tugging at them, and you can’t hold back the little smile slowly making its way to your lips.
“I guess I just meant I-”
He looks up at you, but his gaze quickly falls again.
“Like I understand why-”
“…was that too much?”
The question lingers in the air for a moment before you hear his voice again.
“No, no, I don’t think it was too much I think…think you should talk about those things, right?”
You shrug, still smiling at his adorable attempt to be as understanding and considerate in this clearly slightly awkward situation for him.
“Yeah, yeah, I think so too.”
You reassure him while sitting back on the couch normally. You lean to the side and rest your head on his shoulder with a gentle sigh. Carmy battles his own thoughts for a moment, but when you snuggle even closer to him, he quickly throws his arm around you, his fingers slowly brushing over your side.
“Sorry the date didn't work out.”
He mumbles, glancing down at you.
“Yeah…well, maybe it's a good thing. I guess I’ll know not to go out with that asshole anymore.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, there you go. That's good.”
You nod, feeling the frustration of the evening slowly parting with your mind and your body. The quiet white noise of the TV overlapping the gentle sounds of the city coming from the open window and the feeling of another person this close to you, Carmy's fingers brushing over your ribs, it all slowly helps you push the bad unfortunate events of the day behind you and move on.
“Okay.”
You mumble after a moment before getting yourself off of the couch.
“I need to just be done with today.”
“Oh, oh sure, yeah. I get that.”
Carmy watches you smile at him before you walk around the couch and towards your room. You stop when he calls your name, turning back to face him again.
“Listen… I can’t help with shitty people, but there’s good food in the fridge if you want something and…"
“Yeah?”
“I… could help with the third thing.”
You feel your body respond to his words before your brain can actually process them. You didn't expect him to make the first move, you hoped he might, but you didn't expect him to.
“Camry, you don't-”
You breathe out a quiet laugh, trying to play off the situation as casually as possible, not sure if he actually meant what he was saying.
“No, I-I'm serious, I can help, just let…let me show you.”
“I don’t…need pity sex, Carmy.”
You try to see if that's what he has in mind.
“Wait, wait, no, that’s not - fuck.”
He tries to explain, raising his hand in your direction immediately, the other hand in his hair, eyes glancing around your face trying to estimate the damage.
“Fuck, shit, I didn’t-“
He swallows hard .
“You know I didn’t I-don’t mean it like that, I fucking-I hope you know.”
There’s a pause when he looks directly into your eyes. The words stop and the whole room falls silent as he waits for a response.
“How…how bad did I fuck up just now?“
“You didn’t.”
“No?”
You shake your head, and he reaches his hand out slowly.
“Okay,”
He starts quietly.
“Okay, come here.”
He gestures for you to step closer to the couch, and you do, sitting back down next to him.
“So you’re gonna help?“
You watch him glance down at your lips, his eyes stop right there for a moment before he glances back up into your eyes.
“Fucking hope so.”
He mumbles, and you smile at the tone of his voice.
“If I won't, I’ll take dishes duty for the rest of the week.”
“Month?”
You ask, moving in closer, and his eyes are back on your lips.
“Month.”
“Okay”
“Fuck.”
It's the last thing you hear before your eyes shut slowly, and you feel his lips on yours. His hand is on the side of your face, tilting it to the side slightly to deepen the kiss. You hum against his lips quietly, your hand moving to the sweet little curls on the back of his neck. You feel his hand now on your lower back, pulling you closer to him for another moment before he pulls away.
Carmy lays down on the couch, resting on his back before moving his hips up slightly. You climb on top, your first instinct makes you reach down between his legs to unzip his pants. He grabs your wrists, pulling you up higher, before you can do anything.
“Carmy-”
You start, but he doesn’t let you finish.
“Come here, up, sit up.”
You don’t protest any further, adjusting your position quickly so that your thighs are now on either side of his face.
“Oh shit-“
You grab the hem of the fabric and pull it up so that you can now see him looking up from between your legs.
“What happened?”
“You didn’t-“
He swallows hard, and you feel his thumb brushing over your thigh gently.
“You don’t have anything under.”
You watch the way his eyes scan your face for a moment before they close after he glances back between your legs.
“That’s…yeah, that was on purpose, Carmy.”
You quickly breathe out a laugh, pushing your fingers through his hair.
“Ah…shit.”
He mumbles, turning his face off to the side. He thinks over his decision one more time before turning back to face you again.
“Ah, fuck it, okay.”
Pulling you back down on him, Carmy makes up his mind. You push your legs together slightly, feeling his tongue now pressing against your body between your legs. He kisses and pecks at your thighs, his fingers intertwined with yours as he slowly works his tongue against you.
You hum quietly, tilting your head back with your eyes closed as you let the feeling spread over your body. He switched from licking to sucking, and then kissing over your thighs again. It’s clear he doesn't want to just make you come as quickly as possible. He wants to build up the feeling, he’s trying to make you feel good for as long as he can.
“S-Carmy-“
You rest your hand on his chest behind you, pushing your hips forward slightly before exhaling sharply through your teeth.
“Carmy I can't-“
You attempt to pull away and sit back on the couch, the weight of your body heavy on your knees, but before you can finish your sentence you feel his fingers on your thighs.
Carmy pulls you down on top of him, letting you rest against his body completely now. His face still between your legs, his fingers digging into your thighs as he grunts loudly, clinging onto your body, determined to finish what he started.
You whine quietly at the increased force of the action, and your legs press together, your thighs closing around his head.
His thumb brushes over your leg reassuringly as his tongue works you over and over, nose bumping into your clit again and again until you feel yourself choking on the gasp that gets stuck at the back of your throat.
Unintentionally tugging at the ends of his messy curls again, you feel his hips buck slightly behind you. An idea sparks in your head, and you quickly reach back, your hand now on the bulge in his boxers. Carmy grunts, grabbing your wrist before you could do anything. He smacks your thigh a couple of times to get your attention back.
“Yo, don’t-you,”
You tighten your grip over the fabric and his whole body jerks underneath you.
“Shit-“
“I want to. Hey, Carmen…look at me, I want to.”
His fingers wrap around your wrist a bit harder while he thinks over your words. His intention wasn't to get anything out of this. He wanted to help, to make you feel good.
“C'mon, Carmy, it’ll be fun.”
You purr and he swallows hard.
“Yeah, okay. Okay, shit-.”
“Just try to relax.”
You push your hips forward slightly, dragging your nails over the fabric, and he grunts again as he attempts to pull your hips forward and onto his face again. You work your hand over his length, and he turns his face to push it into your thigh.
“I-I can’t… I don’t think I can focus when you, umm…when you-“
“You wanna try?”
You raise your eyebrow, and he nods after a moment, those bright blue eyes fixed on yours.
“Okay, okay fuck-“
He inhales hard before smacking your thigh one more time as a signal that he’s ready to go again. Holding your hand, he helps you up to his face before grabbing as much of your thighs as he possibly can. You work your hand over his cock as he works his mouth over your center, both of you feeling the blood rush between your legs more and more with every second.
You fight back the whines when he sucks your clit into his mouth again, and he tries to stop his own hips from bucking up into your hand. Grabbing your ass, Carmy lets you grind down on his mouth now, and a loud whine slips past your lips.
“Fuck-Carrmy-“
You start, your head falling forward as you try to catch your breath.
He hums against your body as a way to let you know that he’s also close now. You quickly push your thumb against the very tip before wrapping your hand tightly right under his head. His eyes shut tightly, and you feel his hips shake as he lets out a loud grunt. While coming, he pulls you down on top of him even harder. His tongue flicking against your clit makes you push your legs together again until he presses his tongue against you harder and hums deeply, finally pushing you over the edge.
You tug on his hair, panting loudly as your body gives out. The muscles in your stomach tense up, and you fall forward, failing to keep yourself up, leaning over him.
Carmy helps you down, letting go of your hand when you finally lay down on top of him. Staring up at the ceiling, he rests his hand on your back, brushing over the fabric of the dress. He pushes his other hand through the curls as he attempts to steady his breathing again.
“So…how was that?”
He asks, glancing down at you after a moment.
“Mmmm five out of ten?”
You answer, pretending to think about it way too hard. Carmy frowns, visibly offended.
“Didn’t look like five out of ten from where I was.”
He teases back and you scoff.
“Yeah, I had a better perspective.”
“Fuck you.”
He mumbles, his hand still brushing over your back gently.
“Okay, maybe like seven out of ten.”
“Oh yeah, no, thanks, that's great.”
You scoff quietly, letting your hand come up to the back of his neck.
“I didn't know you could do all that.”
“Yeah I,”
He starts, pushing his fingers through his hair before scratching the top of his head.
“Think it was like…an adrenaline rush or some shit, I don't-I don't really know.”
“Hmm.”
You nod.
“That's good.”
“Yeah…yeah, I guess it is.”
You rest your head back down on his chest.
“So… I don't need to do the dishes for like a month or-”
“Oh, fuck you, Carmen.”
He scoffs and you smile at the sound. Wrapping your arms around his chest tighter, you press your face against his chest and sigh loudly.
“Thanks for this.”
“...I honestly have no idea what I did, but… I'm glad it worked.”
#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#the bear fanfiction#camry berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto smut#jeremy allen white
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Text
Walk The Line.
Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.
roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.
word count - 2.5k
authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.
He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.
The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.
“A… party?”
“Does it say party, Carmen?”
“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”
You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.
“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”
You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.
“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”
“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.
You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.
“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”
“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”
“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”
You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.
“You really wanna go?”
“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”
“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”
“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”
“I don’t fuck recipes up.”
“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”
“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.
You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.
“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.
He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.
“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”
“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”
He huffs, but relents.
“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.
Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.
Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.
The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.
You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.
“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”
“Pat your head.”
“Real subtle.”
“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”
“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”
“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”
It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.
It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.
“Excuse me, sweetheart?”
You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”
You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.
“Thank you so much!”
You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.
“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”
You almost choke on your drink.
“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”
“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”
You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.
“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”
She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.
“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”
Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.
“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”
She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.
“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”
You smile, shaking your head.
“Is he here with you?”
“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”
“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”
“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”
“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”
You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.
“You know where I am, if you need me.”
She nods, standing up carefully.
“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”
You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.
He holds out his hand to introduce himself.
“Hi, I’m Daniel.”
You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
You laugh, shaking your head.
“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”
Now he shakes his head.
“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”
“Ah. What do you do?”
“I’m a model.”
Of course he is.
“What do you do?”
As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.
Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.
“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”
You laugh, nodding.
“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”
“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”
“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.
You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.
“Hi, Carmen.”
You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.
“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.
“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”
“Haven’t we all.”
“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”
“Would you have noticed if I did?”
You spin around to face him properly now.
“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”
He huffs.
“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”
“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”
Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.
“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”
He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.
The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.
You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.
“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.
He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.
“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.
“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”
Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.
“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”
“Well then you better come quickly.”
He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.
“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”
It all clicks for you suddenly.
“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”
“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”
You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.
“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”
“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”
“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”
He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.
“Carm.”
“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”
You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.
“Say it.”
“Hmm?”
You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.
“Say. It.”
He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.
“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”
“So close, honey. Try again.”
You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.
“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”
“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”
With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.
“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”
“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”
“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”
You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.
You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.
“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.
He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.
“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”
You pull back, looking at him carefully.
“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”
You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.
“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”
He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.
“Yes, I did.”
“Do we have any left?”
“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”
“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.
“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”
“Will you make two extras?”
He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.
“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”
He smiles at you, all soft and melted.
“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”
You take hold of his hand, placing it there.
“Only sometimes.”
He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.
“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”
“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.
Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.
#roommate!carmen berzatto x reader#roommate!carmen berzatto#roommate!carmy berzatto x reader#roommate!carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader fluff#carmy berzatto x reader smut#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader fluff#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear smut#the bear x reader#the bear fluff#the bear imagine#and they were roommates
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