#Carmy x gn! reader

[collecting-stories]

Blueberry BBQ - Carmen Berzatto

Request: no.

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

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

The Bear Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunday night dinner?” Syd echoed.  

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

“It’s uh,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bust.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you making?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marcus’ roommate?” Carmy almost laughed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright…if you let me try the soup.”  

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

Carmy nodded, grinning, “yeah alright.”  

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah if it’s good,” he joked.  

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s your recipe.”  

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

“Apple?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[outoftheseine]

- 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)

[thelvrsera]

WRITERS BLOCK? YES.

send in requests so I can get an idea on what to write, I’m stuck on a fic and I have to post my new directory and works in progress list

[hanasnx]

"scuffling."

MINORS DNI 18+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cloudy-em]

carmy with a OT, an occupational therapist !!! Omg reader in paramedic !! IM TELLING YOUUUU WE HAVE SOMETHING

sorry i'm just now getting to this lol!

OT is super cute like carmy comes home and reader doesn't even have to ask what's up, they just know carm needs some support and they help him wind down.

reader as a paramedic is also cute like they're rushing to his side whenever he breathes "ouch" in the kitchen of their shared apartment and he's like "i'm fine, baby, a little hot oil just splashed, don't worry"

in conclusion, carmy both loves and deserves to be taken care of.

[yellowharrington]

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that. 

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes. 

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath. 

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together. 

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy. 

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink. 

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek. 

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself. 

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms. 

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert. 

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.” 

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features. 

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise. 

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his. 

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence. 

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

[dropitpunk]

luca and carmen berzatto both being into you

carmen berzatto x gn!reader x luca

warnings: suggestive content, they want you badly.

there's a pt.2!

it was well known by all the chefs that luca and carmen were in a constant ego competition in the kitchen.

you didn't have given it much thought until that competition extended to you.

luca was a good friend outside of work. he was warm and attentive to you when you needed support, always offering a shoulder to rest or kind words of encouragement if you felt like giving up. luca would tighten up your apron before starting your shift and rub your back in a comforting manner, making sure you had no worries about yourself.

you liked him a lot. and that still didn't change when you met carmen berzatto.

carmen was much more quiet and reserved, always focused on his work or having his face buried in a cooking book. his eyebrows were furrowed every time you would greet him, but you didn't take it to heart, carmen just seemed like an anxious person.

you didn't talk much, but he always helped you carry heavy ingredients and sharpen your knife along with his so you didn't have to do more work. carmen would tell you to be careful with the heat every once in a while, not wanting the chocolate cake in the oven to burn. he was very polite to you, and that was one of the reasons you couldn't understand why luca didn't like him.

"he's always trying to fuck me over. mess with me. try to get me to fail." luca would tell you all the time in the changing room, visibly distressed. you just didn't see it, keeping a good imagine of carmen in your head. your hands would find luca's shoulders, rubbing slowly while resting your chin on the top of his head. try to get me to fail in front of you, he wanted to say.

"maybe you just don't know him enough and he gave you the wrong impression." you carefully chose your words to not upset luca, missing the way his jaw clenched.

"and you do? you know him enough?" he spat, suddenly taking your hands off him and getting up, face close to yours. his breath was quick in your cheeks, eyes glowing in annoyance. you gulped, shaking your head in negative.

sighing, you looked at his lips and back to his eyes. chest full of worry and care for the man in front of you. "just try not to let it get to you, luc."

the next morning you came earlier to the restaurant to clear your head and focus on your new recipe, finding carmen already there.

it was just the two of you, and he caught you by surprise as he asked you if you already had breakfast.

"i made some pancakes for me, but i can put something together real fast if you don't like it." carmen said shyly and pointed to the plate with beautifully plated pancakes, dripping with the perfect amount of syrup and butter.

you smiled and his heart fluttered, you two ate in silence saved by your hums of delight and hushed praises.

luca and carmen were even more harsh to each other that day, arguing like children over pointless things in the kitchen.

"can you try this?" luca came to you with a spoon full of dessert and held it to your mouth, smiling when you nodded and welcomed it in your tongue.

your eyes widened, "this is really good, chef. great job."

luca was euphoric, going back to his station with your pleased expression in his mind. he didn't notice carmen watching him with a different look in eyes.

you were struggling with a jam jar, trying to get it open for minutes to finish your dish. too embarrassed to ask for help, you were grateful when you locked eyes with a familiar blue plair.

"here, let me help you." carmen dried his hands on his apron and took the jar out of your hands with an amused tiny smile, opening the lid with ease.

you couldn't help but look at his muscles straining against his pristine white shirt, tattoos on full display. his curls were falling in his eyes, and you suppressed the urge to reach out and brush it.

"thank you, carmy." you beamed and he nodded, looking around your station to see if there was anything else he could do to make his stay a bit longer.

after your shift ended, there was only you, carmen and luca left.

you three were cleaning the kitchen in a dreadful silence, air thick with tension.

"can someone bring me a broom?" you asked quietly. you could swear it was right by your side and now it was gone. both luca and carmen turned to you, getting up at the same time.

"i can get it." luca said through gritted teeth, making carmen roll his eyes.

"i'm faster than you, i'm getting it." carmen refuted and you sighed tiredly, getting up yourself.

i'm just gonna go get it." you left carmen and luca as they looked at you astonished, bickering and following you to the small broom closet after sharing a knowing smirk.

you entered it, luca and carmen mirroring it so they could help you in a childish competition to see who was faster.

"wait, just be careful not to..." you paused when you heard the click of the door closing. it was broken for ages and the chefs joked that one day someone was going to end up locked in there as it wouldn't open from the inside. you found it funny, but now you couldn't find your laugh.

"dumb fuckhead," carmen cursed and luca looked offended over your shoulder, absently pressing up against your back so he could point a finger at carmen.

"you pushed me and now you're pretending to be innocent!" luca exclaimed agitated and carmen came closer to you, chest glued to the front of your body so he could lower luca's finger himself.

luca reached over you to flick carmen's ear, his groin now rubbing against your ass. carmen held your waist to avoid it, the other hand trying to slap luca.

you were perfectly situated between the two, your face red and skin starting to sweat.

"guys, can we please try to get out of here?" that seemed to bring their attention, as they immediately looked at you. you stilled, looking at carmen's attentive eyes and feeling luca's hand on the other side of your waist.

"i'm sorry, it's just so cramped in here," luca said against your ear and you blinked quickly, missing the look he shared with carmen.

a finger was now finding the way under your shirt, slow and teasing.

"we will have to wait until someone finds us."

you didn't notice that right behind carmen was the same broom you thought mysteriously disappeared and made you three come to the closet, and you certainly didn't notice that over the past days luca and carmen had finally found something they both wanted, you.

a/n: i can continue this if you guys get any interested!

[highttowers]

Hello i am requesting for Carmen from the Bear!! Something sweet and heart warming about Carmen being worried about the reader and just the whole kitchen seeing how in love he is ❤️ thank you

yes to heaven.

pairing(s); carmen “carmy” berzatto x gn!reader

fandom; the bear (fx on hulu)

w/c; 758 words

trigger/content warnings; brief sexual implications, brief mention of past injuries, language, richie (he’s a warning all by himself), tina n richie being mean to carmy lol, tina and reader chisme together, is this another fic with an ldr song title????, brief touches on carmy’s trauma (not in-depth cuz this is a fluff fic), not-proof read, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! i need him biblically. at first, i was like “mmm, jeremy allen white” as a joke. but bro. i don’t think it’s a joke anymore…

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto who’s always watching you. Who has his eye on you, if you will ;)

Carmy, whose eyes are trailing your figure when you first meet. Not in a sexual way, just taking in every detail. The way you stand, the way you move your hands when you talk. Any time you wear a shirt more than once, the nervous tics you have while he tries your food, if you have any visible tattoos, freckles, or birthmark. His eyes snag on every little thing you do for a split second.

Carmy, whose gaze is locked in your hands while you demonstrate your abilities. He’s taking in every scar, every cut, every tear, every burn that was once fresh in the skin of your hands and committing it to memory. He doesn’t know why, he just is.

Carmy, whose eyes will flicker to your face every so often as you cook, lingering in the scrunch of your brow, the purse of your lip, the muttering under you breath, every curve and divet on your cheeks.

Carmy, whose brain short-circuits the first time he sees you in anything other than your lose white tee, black pants and blue apron. Logically, he knows your body has always been shaped that way, so why is heat crawling up his neck in the biting Chicago air?

Carmy, whose new favorite thing is watching you cook. Especially the recipes you know by heart, when every lovely movement your body makes is muscle memory. Seamless and smooth.

Carmy who appreciates the habit you have of cleaning your station as you cook. Those pale blue eyes locked in you as he exits his office, watching you dumping veggies in a crock pot before scooping up the cutting board, knife, and any food waste and making short work of it.

Carmy who is personally offended by Richie watching you cook. Richie and his Richie-esque comments making him roll his eyes, or warning a scoff. “Makes you wanna know what other moves they can do, eh?” “Shut the fuck up, cousin.”

Carmy, whose habit of paying microscopically close attention to you has whispers from Marcus to Tina to Sydney to you. He appreciates the way you wave them off, using the new kid excuse.

Carmy, who’s been reduced to a stuttering mess when you confront him privately about it. He’s spilling out excuses, until you quietly ask him if he wants to grab coffee with you sometime.

Carmy who, the more and more he arrives to work either with you or with a dumb smile on his face, is getting endless teasing from Richie and Tina. Sydney quietly smiles at him, but mainly sticks to talking about the nature of y’all’s relationship with you.

Carmy, who admittedly fears anytime you let sitting with Tina, exchanging words that have her yelling curses or exclamations in Spanish.

Carmy, who has a retort ready for Richie when he asks you if that means he has a chance now, only to clamp his mouth shut when you wordlessly flip Richie off, bringing another soft look into Carmy’s eyes and a dumb grin on his lips.

Carmy who has to kiss every scar, every mark, every little thing in your body when given the chance. It’s a love language, remembering and worshipping every little thing about you.

Carmy who has his eyes on you so much, regulars at The Beef are silently questioning if there’s anything going on. (there is, but Carmy would sooner be Richie’s personal chef than admit it to customers.)

Carmy whose new greates comfort is you. Any fleeting fragment of you. Maybe you washed his clothes once and now they smell like you. Maybe you hugged him so much your scent lingers in his nose. Maybe he’s got a small piece of jewelry from you or reminiscent of you. Anything that has to do with you can bring him out of the deepest panic.

Carmy who swears up and down and to the ends of the Earth that he’s never gonna lose you. It’s not even an option anymore. He would actually just fall to pieces on the floor.

Carmy who shows the uglier parts of him slowly. You actually have to peel back the first layer and stare it directly in the face without fear before he shows you more. He’s just so scared.

Carmy who’s so so grateful you don’t try to fix him. You just leave him as he is, just giving extra love to those broken bits.

Carmy who used to hate love songs before you arrived.

Carmy who was losing faith in the very idea of love until you arrived.

[jupwrld]

okay okay i literally can’t get this idea out my head BUT a reader who does a lil dance when they really enjoy their food! and carmen just loves cooking for them because he can always tell how good it is by their dancing.

does that makes sense AHHH IDK🥲🫶🏾

A/N: This is a safe space for people who dance when they enjoy their food (me). Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! And remember: comments and reblogs make the world go round! <3

warnings: literally none it's just cutie (but if ur vegetarian sorry bc reader is fuckin' up some bone broth soup)

Carmen Berzatto x gn!reader

"Baby, can you taste this?" Carmy calls to you who's sitting at your usual spot on the kitchen counter, and he's already getting you a spoonful of a new soup recipe he's been working on. He blows gently on it as he makes his way over to you skillfully-- years of having a partner taste your food will do that to a man.

"And if I say no?" Slips off your tongue with a grin, and your lovers eyes flash to yours for a moment before they roll, drawing a brief spell of laughter from the both of you. "What is it, Carmy?"

"Remember that beef bone broth I was making the other day? Wanted to try stracciatella with that, wanna know what you think." He says, finally bringing the now cooled spoon to your lips. The moment the soup hits your tongue, you can't help but smile and shut your eyes. While you swallow, Carmy watches you patiently, awaiting the moment of truth.

And he has just the answer he's looking for as he watches your eyes shut, and you do that little dance he adores when you love what you're eating. Your head bops and your hips sway gently on the counter for a moment, a moment of which he always feels is too short lived.

"S'good?" He asks as your eyes flutter open and the bopping of your head changes into a nod, and your hips do more of a bounce than a sway.

"So good." Carmy knows that, he could tell from the moment you did your little dance-- but it always makes him feel good to hear you say it aloud. "Please tell me you made enough for the week."

"More than enough, sweetheart." Carmen says with a gentle kiss to your lips that you can't help but smile against. And he can't help but do the same as your hips that he holds in his hands tenderly begin to sway against his palms.

I had so much fun writing this! I'm working on the other requests as well, but PLEASE feel free to send in asks! Though they’ll probably be a little slow coming because I’m back in school for the semester. But a drabble is easier to write than fics, so I can get through those much faster :)

[toxicanonymity]

masterlist

TAG: Toxicanonymity ☠️. She/her. FAQ

ASKS: I don't really do traditional requests these days because I'm busy with WIPs, but feel free to come in my ask box with thots, questions, etc.

WARNINGS: Everything is NSFW 18+ w/ F!Reader unless otherwise noted. May have violence, dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual (noncon), unsafe sex, and more. See additional warnings in individual fics.

!! Some of the older Halloween HCs have broken links, and idk why. If it's bold, it means I checked and fixed it. I'll make my way through all of them eventually.

Pedro Pascal characters masterlist

Boyd Holbrook characters masterlist

Scream

Masked ghostface unless otherwise specified.

⭐ Every inch | Every inch 2 | Every inch 3

fight flight or fuck blurb

Rat in a cage oneshot drabble

⭐ Prescott House Bed & Breakfast (Billy Loomis)

Waking up cold blurb

✨Road house - scream AU (Dalton x reader)

Texas Chainsaw

⭐ The Spread (3.5k) Tommy Hewitt x reader. "Heavy" on size kink 🤭

Halloween

Corey Cunningham Stories (CC)

A lift and two screws (4.5k words) - 2️⃣ 🥩

Laid back (2.5k) -  👤 💐reach-around HJ.

Laid back: V-Day Vibes (3.2k) 👤💐 🥩 🧎‍♂️ toy

Corey from the yard (3.8k) - 2️⃣💐🥩

Corey from the Yard pt. 2 (5k) - 2️⃣ 🥩⚰️

It's Halloween (babysitting w/ CC) (3.5k) ⭐ 🎃

Yet another rattle - FFM (2.7k) - ft. Allyson

Corey C. from the call center (4.5k) - 💐

Dominating Corey in a declining mall (2.5k) - 🧎‍♂️

Tighty-whitey workout, interrupted (2k) 🥩

You wear MM's mask in bed (1.3k)

Giving head while CC streams (900)👤

⭐Good behavior (7.5k) work detail 4️⃣

⭐Birthday Wish (2k) dominant bf

⭐Give In (4.5k) 2️⃣

Hot Topic

Scrapyard (CNC) 500

Rock Bottom (22k) 🥩 ⚰️ . Corey, Michael, Y/N. (Other stories don't use Y/N).

Michael Myers Stories

Corey leaves you with Michael (300)

⭐Michael makes them watch (1.3k)

Michael in Ambrose (2k) non con

The summoning (1.2k) ⚰️

⭐Skin Alley (1.5k) MM POV

Michael's Castle (3k)2️⃣ vampire!michael

Gravel Lot (1.1k) - Anniversary 💐

Gas station (550)

Knows you're horny (650 cnc)

Breeder Michael blurb

Reader w/ oral fixation blurb

Bathroom (M!reader)

Michael makes Corey watch

Obsessive Reader GN

Halloween Headcanons

Free Use (1.2k) 👤 🧎‍♂️

The Shape's Collar (900) 👤

Coming💦 (1.1k) 👤 MM, CC

When you're a screamer (650) 👤 MM, CC

Why it's hot when Michael drives 👤

overstimulating a squirter MM, CC

more Corey squirting HCs

Corey coming in his pants

Corey porn habits

Corey catches your self-pleasure

Corey period oral

Halloween drabbles, blurbs, misc.

Who's that calling you under the dinner table (Misc) txts CC

Frisky at the movie theater w/ CC (300)

COREGASM (600?) 👤

CC sounding like Leon in DBD👤

Corey's newest ring

Corey x You x Michael

reader nipple piercings & 2 CC

Corey nipple piercings

Michael x Obsessive! Reader 👤

MM dream / CC 📞sex & CNC

✨Corey x you x Michael u walk in

✨Michael & thighs

✨Michael Makes Corey Watch

Halloween non-Smut

Michael & Corey MBTI types (non-explicit)

1st date, Corey wants to leave with you 💐

Amusement park date 💐

Corey's new ring (100 word drabble)

Corey teaches you to drive (300 words)

Michael/Corey poll results

_____________________

Other Fandoms

The ghost - Mike x reader x Carmy

The Bear

________________________

Triple Frontier

The Worst - Tom "Redfly" Davis x DARK!reader

Road House

Scream AU - Elwood Dalton x reader

New: ✨

Multiple smut scenes: 2️⃣,3️⃣ etc

Fluffy: 💐

Submissive: 🧎‍♂️

Gender Neutral or Male Reader: 👤

Gratuitous beef: 🥩

Kill(s): ⚰️

[caramelberzatto]

permanent // c. berzatto

HELLO <3 here we have one serving of tattoo artist!carmy, made hot to go, fresh this afternoon!!! i may have enjoyed writing this way too much, now i just wanna book more tattoos LMAO anyway ENJOY MWAH LOVE YOU!!!!!!! carmy x gn!reader (no mention of pronouns.) - Clarke xx

“I know a guy.” That’s what your friend had told you when you’d jokingly expressed a desire to get your first tattoo. But then she’d shot the ‘guy’ a message, right then, over brunch, and you’d almost choked on your food. Now, a week later, you were sitting anxiously at the aforementioned friend’s side on a shiny, velvet couch. Fingers drumming on your knees, you glanced at the clock. Four minutes until your session was meant to start.

Through the saloon-style doors, you could hear the overlapping drone of the equipment; you were no stranger to tattoo parlours, having been the support person for many of your friends, but today would be the first time you’d be in the chair, rather than in the waiting room. And this was a new place, a few blocks east of your apartment, but apparently the artist was awesome and charged lower rates because he’d only just opened the parlour.

“How do you know this guy again?” You whispered to your friend, trying to act like you weren’t freaking out a little.

“He did my spine a couple of weeks ago, and he’s so chill. Super hot, too, so that’s a bonus. Something to focus on rather than the sting, y’know? Real nice voice.”

You swallowed, unsure if that last tidbit of information was a good or bad thing. Your friend's phone buzzed in her pocket incessantly and she picked up, excusing herself, leaving you alone in the waiting area, swallowing your panic. For a moment, you considered following her, abandoning your reluctant post by the decorative, vintage globe of the world.

“You my next one?” The doors swung open with a squeak, ruining your escape plan, revealing a man with a messy head of curls and a tragically easy smile. He held his hand out and your gaze snagged on the tattoos on his knuckles before you took it, graciously, and he pulled you up off the couch.

“I think so, yeah,” you said, trying not to let your nervousness show, relishing in the somewhat soothing warmth of his palm. 

“Awesome, just follow me through here and hop onto the second chair for me.”

You did as he asked, not even moving of your own accord, simply running on autopilot. He did have a nice voice. Goddamnit. 

You swore you could feel the thudding of the bass-heavy music through the floor as you followed him through the parlour, gaze straying to the way his muscles in his back moved beneath the tight black shirt he wore. Once you got comfortable, the man settled down on a wheeled stool, sliding closer to you.

“Alright,” he fiddled with the equipment in his station, straightening the individually-packed needleheads, sifting through a few sheets of paper with various designs on them until he found the one he was looking for. The one you’d picked out after hours of trying to decide.

“First things first, my name’s Carmen.” He paired it with another soft smirk, and it put you at ease.

“Hi,” you said, and it came out embarrassingly breathily. Clearing your throat, you adjusted your position in the chair and offered him your name. It was hard to focus on much after that.

The softness of his touch as he held your wrist, twisting it slightly, so he could place the stencil. The way he looked up at you, a quiet demand to ‘relax for me’ slipping off his tongue like honey. The closeness as he leaned in, the buzz of the needle making your heart leap into your throat. The way his brow furrowed while he focused, carefully tracing the stencilled lines.

“Remember to breathe for me, darlin’.” His voice was a murmur. A quick glance, a locked gaze, a subtle check-in to make sure you were comfortable. “Feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, and it probably had something to do with the fact that you were completely and utterly distracted by Carmen. In fact, the sting was almost… soothing?

“Good. You’re doin’ really great, ‘m almost done.” 

He was so close, haloed by the overhead light, and you couldn’t tear your gaze from him. His hand was so steady, so careful and practised, and you found your thoughts straying to places they shouldn’t go. Slowly, you crossed one leg over the other, and you could’ve sworn Carmen bit back a smirk.

He pulled back, setting the handpiece down. “There we go.”

There it was, permanent, on your skin. Glancing down at the fresh ink, you smiled. You hadn’t thought you’d love it so much, but it just looked… good. 

“Suits you,” Carmen said, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. “You better come back for more.”

Unable to focus, you could barely manage anything but a ‘thank you’ and an ‘I love it’ as he wrapped your arm in clingfilm, sealing it with a strip of tape. He’d drifted closer, and your knees loosely slotted together; just enough space between you to make you crave less of it.

As he walked you through the aftercare procedure, you found yourself staring at his lips, the way they curved around each word, and only the sudden ‘there you are, all tatted up!’ that announced the return of your friend snapped you out of it. Rising from the chair, blinking away the headrush after sitting for so long, you tried to ignore the searing imprint of his hand on your hip as he stood, too, steadying your stumbling frame.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” He muttered so only you could hear it, leading you back into the waiting area so you could pay. And a sense of boldness welled up in your chest, and before you could hold them back, a string of words tumbled out. 

“Only if you want to.”

[smoshyourheadin]

Sunny

carmen berzatto x gn!reader

a/n: hi guuuuys thanks for all the love on teeth! heres a lil carmy fic bc i love him. reader is gender neutral, but is referred to as sunny and richie calls them sweetheart :-) love y’all!! requests r open <3

you stepped into the chaos of the bear's kitchen, the delicious aroma of sizzling meats and spices enveloping you like a warm embrace. the kitchen restaurant was alive with the metallic clatter of pans, the sharp bark of ‘chef’, and the constant tick of that clock.

as the newest addition to the team, you were seeping with excitement and nervous anticipation. today marked the beginning of your career as a sous chef at the beef, a role you'd long aspired to fill.

you’d known mikey from coming in every day at 5:32pm, just after leaving the subway from your internship. he was always so lovely to you, always calling you ‘sunny’ because of how bright you were, giggling at everything he said. and the day he died you really didn’t know what to do. you’d walked in like normal but there was only the quiet buzz coming from the old fluorescent lights. you shouted out to richie to see what was up, and he told you.

because you’d recently turned 21, you and him went for drinks and talked about stuff, and be invited you to the funeral. a while after, he’d told carm about you, and the fact you were a ‘fucking legend’, and how you'd be perfect for the team. you got the job less than a week later.

walking through the kitchen that helped you through so many nights, you met all the other people working there: marcus, tina, ebra, sweeps, fak, manny and angel, richie, and obviously the man of the hour.

Carmen Berzatto.

you smiled at him, and he just nodded back at you.

“ignore him sweetheart, he’s a fuckin’ jagoff. he’ll come around, don’t you worry” richie shouted over the counter at you, your disappointment clearly visible.

“thanks rich” you say halfheartedly.

as the lunch rush reached its peak, you found yourself navigating the labyrinthine of counters and corners of the bear, wandering into the walk-in freezer, searching for some pre-made batches of dough that marcus had asked you to grab. you crouched down, looking at the lower shelves where he said they were.

but fate had other plans in store for you.

with a sudden click, the door swung shut behind you, plunging you into the cold. panic stirred in your chest as you fumbled for the handle, only to realise it was stuck. trapped in the confines of the walk-in, your heart raced with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“oh yeah this is,” you pinched your brows together “just fucking great! just what i needed." you muttered under your breath, cursing your luck on what was supposed to be a perfect first day.

“yo fak! sunny’s stuck in the walk in!” you heard richie shout.

there was a clatter of movement, and a bunch of muttering behind the door.

“you doin’ okay chef?” carmen said through the door

“yeah,” you say back, arms crossed over your chest tightly ”it’s cold but, i guess thats to be expected, we’d be even more fucked if it was warm i guess”

you heard a low chuckle, and a scuffle of feet. you made him laugh.

it had been about three hours, fak still trying to get the door open, and carmen talking to you through the door. after what felt like forever, the door finally budged. you practically fell out, your teeth chattering together. fak and carmen looked at you with wide eyes, both amazed at how cold you looked.

you were so overwhelmed, already feeling like a complete fuck up on your first day, and you couldn't take it. you began to cry and ran out the back of the restaurant, shortly followed by carmen

“hey, hey you’re okay” he said, taking your body into his arms. his hug was tight, but the right amount. he was warm, and smelt of vegetable stock, cigarettes, and cumin.

“th- thanks, carmen” you sniffle through your sobs

“call me carmy”

you looked up at him, and he was smiling down at you. he looked into your eyes, and grabbed your shoulders.

“hey, look, it’s your first day. it’s okay. it wasn't your fault. if anything, it was marcus’ because he made you go get the dough from the freezer in the first place. don't worry”

you nodded, and wiped your eyes

“yeah, yeah, ‘m sorry for being sensitive”

“no, it’s difficult i get it. but i need you in there. so go in there and do what richie told me you could - a fuckin’ brilliant chef. if you can do that f’me, thats all i want”

you smile at him, and sniff one more time. you walk back into the kitchen with a new sense of purpose: do it for carm.

he watched you strut back in, and realised he was fucked. he liked you already.

[jaennwrites]

Birthdays ˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗

guysss...i was on twitter and i saw this damn tweet that was like "why are guys never excited for their birthday" and YALL the men in the replies were so SAD AND CYNICAL...and i feel like that's so carmy. SO! In the spirit of raising my spirits for my 19th birthday...i wanna write this...tee hee. pairings: carmy berzatto x gn!reader, established relationship word count: short :D warnings: none, pure FLUFF CUTE DISGUSTING LOVEY DOVEYNESS BLAHH.

Carmy didn't really care for his birthday. He didn't want to sound like "those guys" but it really just was another day. The fact that he was never not working on his birthday also contributed to his nonchalant mindset.

He hadn't planned to be with someone this birthday — had he ever? This year he had you, you guys had been dating for five months now and Carmy was happy. Although, the happiness terrified him to death, it felt good. It felt good to have you drop by the restaurant randomly, to see you sleeping in his bed when he came home late. That will be his birthday present, seeing you when he got off of work, that was good enough.

"Cousin!" "Your lover is here!" Richie announced teasingly

Carmy rolled his eyes at the playful jab but a smile couldn't leave his face at the announcement of your arrival, an early birthday gift. He pushed himself out of the office chair and opened the door to see you with a cheerful smile on your face.

"Happy birthday Carm" You smiled extending the small white bakery box in your hand.

"Thank you?" He spoke trying to sound sincere but this was new for him. He couldn't really remember the last time someone brought him a...cupcake, he discovered as he peeked in the box.

"I know you're so blahh about your birthday but I believe in celebrating birthdays" You nodded stealing Carmy's seat in the office chair.

"I do like my birthday, and I appreciate this cupcake" "Actually" He reassured

"Sit" You demanded as you got up to let him sit down.

You turned off the lights in the office before pulling a pack of candles out your bag. You placed one right in the center of the cupcake, lighting it with a smile.

Carmy wasn't sure if it was the warm somewhat nostalgic light emitted from the candle, or your presence but he could feel his eyes starting to water. He turned his head away from you in hopes to not embarrass himself. However, it wasn't embarrassing, nothing about this was, it was just very unfamiliar for him.

"Carmy?..." "Are you...crying?" You asked concerned fearing that maybe his birthday held a negative memory for him.

You hadn't told him about this cupcake thing considering it was a surprise, but you and Carmy never really talk about birthdays. There were few conversations the previous month about if he was excited but he was always fairly dismissive. It never crossed your mind that the whole day might just be a negative thing for him.

"I'm sorry" "I hope I'm not being insensitive" You apologized taking his hand in yours

"No, No, No" "I'm just...happy, very happy, I love this" "All of it" Carmy smiled, quickly wiping a few falling tears

"Are you sure? I'll throw this cupcake a thousand miles away if you want" You reassured

"Really" "You're the best...best thing that ever happened to me" He declared squeezing your hand lovingly.

You held his face with you free hand, letting your thumb gently caress his cheeks before leaning in and kissing him. Carmy melted into your touch as he kissed you back rather eagerly. You both nearly forgot about the burning candle that was now halfway melted leaving blue wax all over the top of the white icing.

"Fuck" You cursed pulling away to turn your attention towards the cupcake.

"I have to make a wish" Carmy joked, going to blow out the candle

"Make a real wish Carm" You demanded holding his shoulder to ensure he didn't blow out the candle without thought.

"I am" He defended with a laugh —he was not.

Carmy closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted to wish for. I mean realistically, he wanted the restaurant to do great, he wanted things to get easier, maybe for everyone to always listen to him. He couldn't choose one wish and the candle was still burning, and you...

You, he thought, if he had to pick one wish above all other wishes, he would wish for you. So that's what he did; he wished for you and him to be together forever in kidlike fashion. Carmy couldn't honestly say he believed in birthday wishes but as he blew out his candle, he hoped that this wish would be the one to come true.

"What did you wish for?" You asked, laying your head on his shoulder

"I can't tell you" "Or else it won't come true" He argued playfully

"Better have been for something good" "Birthday wishes are important" "We're gonna celebrate every birthday from now on" You informed with an authority he found attractive and amusing.

Carmy watched with adoration as you carefully split the cupcake in half, picking away the blue wax from the top. If every birthday from now on was going to be with you then he didn't mind, didn't mind not one bit.

[cloudy-em]

For the stuff about what you think Carmen‘s girlfriends job would be: idk, I’m kind of thinking lawyer? Because that’s very logistical but also still super face paced like his job. So 1) you could have really cute moments of just “sit down calmness” between the two at home OR 2) really passionate post argument sex

i'm loving the post argument sex for a future post :)

i was also feeling lawyer (maybe i'm projecting though) just cause it's so different yet so similar to carmen's job.

the questions are, my dear anon, what type of law does carm's s/o practice? and if it's criminal, are they prosecutor or are they a defense attorney?

[drabbles-mc]

Curbside Service

Luca x GN!Reader (ft. Marcus)

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: bakery

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: au where Luca runs his own bakery, my beloved. this is retaliatory insanity aimed directly at @narcolini and i simply have nothing else to say about it sksksk.

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @withmyteeth @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

For as much as Luca typically relished the hour or so at the very start of the day that he had to himself, he had to admit that he didn’t quite mind Marcus being there with him. He wasn’t expecting him to want to show up before five—he wouldn’t have blamed him for it either. Luca enjoyed the small hours of the morning because of the silence and peace that they afforded him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Marcus had the same sense of quiet, same calmness about him that was so rare to find in the kitchen. Luca really hadn’t known what to expect when Carmy broached the topic of sending someone his way. The memories of what it was like with Carmy in the kitchen were still clear in the back of his mind, and for as much as he respected Carmy, enjoyed the push that he got from him to be better, Luca was still painfully aware of the energy that he carried with him. He’d been preparing for more of the same, would do it gladly if it was Carmy asking, but he couldn’t deny the relief in him when he met Marcus and felt the easy-going energy he seemed to exude.

“Chef,” Marcus said in greeting as he passed through the kitchen.

Luca nodded, not looking up from his measurements as he listened to Marcus stroll by him to go and put his things away. “Morning, Chef.”

That was all the two of them said for a bit. Marcus came back out, tying his apron into place as he did. He found his place beside Luca and picked up right where Luca was leaving off. It was a routine that they’d found themselves getting comfortable in over the last few days. They would do their work, soak up the peace and quiet. Every now and then they’d chat, but it always felt purposeful when they did—it wasn’t just for the sake of filling the silence.

“Make up the next batch of these, Chef?” Luca asked, wiping his hands on his apron as he got ready to move onto the next part of his daily prep.

Marcus nodded, knowing that the question was only phrased as such to be polite. “Yes, Chef.”

He stepped away, making his way over to where he knew all of the baking supplies were kept. He didn’t have it memorized the same way that he did at The Beef—The Bear, but for how short his time there had been he was doing alright. He scanned the shelves, going back and raking over them again when he didn’t see what he was looking for, then once more even slower when the second through yielded no results. He didn’t want to ask for assistance if the answer was looking him in the face.

When he was fairly certain it just wasn’t there, Marcus took a deep breath. “Chef?”

“Yea?”

“Um. You guys got a secret back room you forgot to tell me about?”

Luca chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“Because if you don’t, we’re out of flour.”

The kitchen was silent for a moment as Luca stopped what he was doing and made his way over to Marcus. For five long seconds it was just the two of them looking at the empty storage shelves. Marcus felt himself tensing up, not knowing how this was going to end up. He knew how this would end up playing out in Chicago, but they were a long ways away from there now.

“Well,” Luca let out a quiet laugh, “looks like we’re out of flour, then.”

The genuine ease in his voice made the tension instantly disappear from Marcus’s shoulders. He laughed, too, before jokingly saying, “Guess we should just close up?”

Luca laughed a little harder at that. “Yea, quit while we’re ahead.” He shook his head. “I’ll make a call in a bit. Been too busy—didn’t realize the delivery hadn’t come through yet.”

Marcus nodded. “Heard.” He paused. “Now what?”

Luca shrugged. “Onto the next.” He nodded towards the doors that led out into the customer side of the bakery. “You can start on front of the house.”

He agreed without hesitation, the way that he always did in the kitchen. “Yes, Chef.”

Luca kept a loose eye on the clock while he did whatever else he could of the prep for the day. The delay was going to put them behind, but not in any way that wasn’t going to be manageable. In the back of his mind he was aware that the people who filtered in and out of the shop most likely wouldn’t even notice as long as there was something in the display case.

When it was finally late enough, he pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. Scrolling through his contacts, he made it down to the list of miscellaneous vendors he’d collected over the years. Once he dialed, he leaned back against the counter, phone pinned to his ear as he watched the timer ticking down on the oven.

“Hello?” you answered, sounding frazzled even though the day had hardly gotten started. It was going around, apparently.

“Hey, uh, sorry,” Luca didn’t recognize the voice, and for a moment he thought he’d called the wrong number. It took him a moment to recover and say, “Just calling about a delivery.”

“Okay, sure. What about it?” you asked.

He chuckled. “Never showed up.”

“Shit,” you said before you could stop yourself. You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, not that he could see you do it. “Sorry. Sorry.”

He smiled, not that you could see it. “It’s alright.”

“Okay. Right. Sorry.” You were trying to get your papers together, dig through the mess of a situation that had been left behind on the desk in the office. “Give me a second to get…get it together.” You heard him let out something between a hum and a laugh, but he didn’t say anything in response. Giving you the second you’d asked for, you assumed. Taking a deep breath, you finally said, “Alright. Sorry about that. What delivery were you looking for?”

The two of you went back and forth for a minute. You asked him some basic questions as you went through the papers, the orders that were pulled up on the computer screen in front of you. Then, sure enough, you found what you were looking for—a delivery that was supposed to have happened two days prior.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you said, pressing the heel of your free palm against your forehead. “Raf’s out and it threw a wrench into everything and his office is a mess so I’ve been trying to figure it out and some stuff, clearly, went through the cracks.”

“It’s alright. Blame it on Raf, yea?”

You laughed, feeling a little relieved at the ease with which he was handling the situation, but still anxious underneath it all. “Believe me, I will.” Leaning back in your chair, you tried to think about what your schedule looked like for the day. “I can run it over now?”

“What?”

“The flour. I can run it over to you if that works.”

“I can send my—”

“It’s fine. We usually bring it to you anyway. That’s,” you chuckled nervously, “that’s kind of the whole point, yea?”

Luca was nodding even though you couldn’t see him. Part of him wanted to say not to worry about it, that clearly you’ve got enough shit on your plate to try and handle. But he also knew that if the roles were reversed, he would be offering to do the same thing.

“Right. You have the address?”

“Um,” you looked over the order form on the screen, “yes.”

“See you in a bit, then.”

You let out a short sigh, glad that things didn’t implode like you thought they were going to when you picked up the phone. “See you in a bit.”

It wasn’t long before Luca heard Marcus calling back to him from the front of the bakery. “Chef?”

“Yea!” Luca called back as he started walking towards the door, fairly certain what it was about.

“Someone’s pulling up?”

“Yea,” Luca said with a laugh as he walked out of the kitchen and into retail side of the bakery, “the person letting you get the rest of your prep done, Chef.”

Marcus’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly started to follow in Luca’s footsteps, hardly even a stride behind him. Luca flipped the lock and pushed the glass doors of the bakery open. Reaching, he used his foot to drag out the doorstop to prop open the door on one side, Marcus taking the cue to do the same on the other.

“Wow,” you said with a laugh as you hopped out of the delivery van, “all hands on deck, huh?”

Luca flashed a quick grin as you strode up to him. “Make your life a little easier.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment as you registered the voice. “Luca? We spoke on the phone?”

“That was me,” he held his hand out for you to shake as he nodded towards the other man who had walked out with him, “And that’s Marcus.”

The morning had been such a whirlwind that until you felt the firm grasp Luca had on your hand, the warmth seeping from his palm into yours, your brain hadn’t slowed down enough to even register who you were really looking at. But then your eyes locked with his and every racing thought in your brain came to a screeching halt.

He broke off the handshake, an easy smile on his face as he nodded towards the van. “Thanks for this.”

“Yea, yea,” you worked harder than you should’ve had to just to get another word out, “no problem. Sorry,” you laughed nervously, “sorry it didn’t get here two days ago.”

Then it was just the two of you standing there. The concept of time was completely lost on you. It could’ve been seconds or hours as far as you were concerned. The only thing that alerted you to time passing at all was the sound of Marcus clearing his throat as he stood in the doorway of the bakery.

“These going in the usual spot?” he asked Luca, bag of flour held securely in his arms.

Luca looked back at him for a brief moment, nodding. “Yes, Chef. Thank you.”

Once Marcus nodded in understanding, Luca turned right back to you. You found yourself shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans just to keep from fidgeting with them. This was just supposed to be a quick delivery, and another quick apology, but now it felt like you couldn’t move.

“Raf’s out?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Yea.” You looked at Luca, saw the traces of concern on his face, and you shook your head. “Oh, don’t feel bad for him. He got hurt doing something stupid with his mates over the weekend. Messed up,” you gestured to your leg, “his entire shit.”

Luca chuckled, as much at your explanation as at your annoyance. You made it look good, somehow. “Left you holding the bag?”

You held your arms out. “Looks that way.”

“Still made it, though,” he said with a half-grin, like he was trying to soften the blow of it all for you.

“Two days late,” you said, almost like a joke even though it was the truth, “but we got here.”

You were vaguely aware of the fact that Marcus was still making trips back and forth with the bags of flour. You knew that you should let Luca go. You’d already put them behind schedule enough for not getting them what they needed when they actually needed it. But Luca didn’t seem like he was in that much of a hurry and if he wasn’t rushing off neither were you. You’d be willing to let the rest of your manager’s business crumble for a bit if it meant standing out on the sidewalk in the grey light of the early morning talking to a baker whose hair couldn’t have looked that good when he woke up in the morning.

“You’re not new,” he said it like a statement, but there was an unsaid question in there somewhere. He shook his head. “Never seen you, though.”

You shrugged. “Usually in the warehouse.”

“All the heavy lifting.”

Marcus butt into the conversation for a moment. “Least someone does the heavy lifting.”

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped past your lips. You covered your mouth with your hand, like that would unmake the sound. Neither of them gave you time to wonder if there was tension there, because Luca smiled and Marcus laughed.

“Be there in a minute,” Luca called over his shoulder. Even not knowing him, you could tell that there wasn’t any sense of urgency to his voice. It would be more than a minute.

Marcus mumbled something under his breath. It was too muffled for you to hear, but Luca must’ve, because the slick grin on his face got a little wider. Whatever mumbled shorthand they’d developed was effective. You watched Luca shake his head.

“I don’t wanna hold you up,” you said. It was a formality, of course—you’d hold him up all day if he let you.

He shook his head, the lack of hesitation almost making you want to believe him. “No, you’re good. It’s alright.”

You tilted your head, cocking one eyebrow. “Is it?”

“We’re already behind, you know?”

You laughed. “That makes it alright?”

He shrugged. “A bit.”

You wanted to say that you hated how the way he was looking at you made your whole face feel hot, heat creeping down the column of your throat despite the cool morning air. You wanted to hate it, wanted to think it was ridiculous because it absolutely was, but you didn’t. You watched him run his hand over all the patchwork tattoos that he had and you knew that you would waste away the entire day right there on the sidewalk. Waste his entire day too.

“When’s Raf back?” he asked.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Who fucking knows?” You laughed but you really didn’t have any idea.

“Then back to the warehouse, yea?”

“Hope so—his office gives me anxiety just thinking about it,” you said, chuckling at the truth of it.

“Organized chaos.”

“Nothing organized about it,” you fired back, trying not to laugh because the state of that room really was beyond the reaches of your nightmares.

You didn’t know why it felt so easy. You didn’t know what was so disarming about him. It wasn’t even seven in the morning and his apron already had steaks going down it, probably the last of the flour that they had before running out because of the delivery you hadn’t made yet. No on in their right mind should look as ready and happy about the day as he did, but there he was anyway. Mellowed out and positive in the face of it all.

“You should come by again,” he said, tone level in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to achieve if the roles were reversed.

It sent a jolt through you but you tried to keep it together. “I’ll come through on time next time, at least,” you joked.

The ends of his mouth lifted into a tiny smile. “No, I mean just come by. Stop in. Doesn’t have to be at six in the morning.”

“But I get all your undivided attention this way,” you said, shocking yourself with how easily it rolled off your tongue. You hoped your face didn’t convey the surprise you felt.

If he picked up on it, he didn’t say anything about it. He let out a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Your heart was pounding against the confines of your ribcage but you somehow managed to keep your voice level. “Right.”

There was the sound of one of the doors to the bakery clattering shut. Both you and Luca looked at the van to see Marcus lifting one of the last two bags of flour from the back of it. His gaze was fixed directly onto Luca as he said, “Last bag is yours, Chef. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Luca caught the way that Marcus’s serious façade cracked at the last minute, a grin on his face as he stepped into the bakery. Luca laughed as he called after him, “Thanks, Chef!”

You cleared your throat, trying to knock the dazed look off your face because you were certain it was painfully evident. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

Luca nodded as he looked at you. “Alright, yea.” His eyes scanned over you and you tried not to think too much about the way that his smile grew just a little wider.

“Good luck with the heavy lifting,” you said with a laugh, white knuckling the keys in your pocket like they would keep you present in the moment rather than getting lost in the imaginary future scenarios that you were already conjuring up in your head.

“I think I’ll be alright,” he joked as he stepped over and grabbed the bag from the back of the van.

It was shameless and you knew it, the way your eyes shot straight to his arms. But he started it, right? He looked first. Fair was fair. When your eyes finally made their way back to his face the smirk pulling at his lips said everything that his words never would. He was a gentleman for that at least.

“You’ll be back though, right?” he asked.

You knew that he had the answer to that question already just from the look in his eyes. You indulged him by saying it out loud, though. Maybe you were indulging yourself too. “’Course, yea. Starting at six AM, right?”

He laughed, taking another step backwards towards the door. “I actually get here closer to four, if you’re ever—”

“I’m never,” you cut him off with a laugh. You shook your head, getting yourself together for a moment. “I’ll see you, Luca.”

He laughed, nodding. “See ya.”

He was inside and the bakery door was shut and locked behind him again before you even managed to put the van in drive. You gave the place one more look through your sideview mirror before finally pulling away. You would be shaking your head at yourself for the rest of the day, for sure. But it’d be worth it. Going back would be worth it too.

Luca strolled into the kitchen, not saying anything as he went to put the last of the delivery away.

Marcus was shaking his head as he worked his way through the prep that Luca had decided to put off just a little while longer. He wanted to try and sound annoyed but he started laughing before he could take a good stab at it. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Luca was laughing too as he found his spot next to Marcus. “You had this under control just fine.”

“Like you’d know,” Marcus joked. “Too busy out there talking and not helping me with the two tons of flour you ordered.”

“Want me to pretend to be sorry?” he asked, laughing still.

Marcus shook his head. “Fucker.”

“Come on,” Luca feigned a serious tone, “Get to it—we’re behind on prep.”

The silence between them only lasted for another second before they both broke back down into laughter again.

[chellestrash]

Catch your breath

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto x gn!reader

summary: Nights can get roughy, both you and Carmy know it. Fortunately? Unfortunately? You’re not sure but you’re glad he’s there and you’re glad you can be there for him.

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, mentions of nightmares and night terrors

word count: 1.5k

a/n: another Carmy piece because i am actually in love with that man. Hope you’ll like it! Thank you @chelseasdagger for proofing!!

The usually comforting, sought after, silence of Carmy’s small bedroom somehow turns against you this particular night. Somewhere in that silence you sense something else, an emptiness. It’s not new, it’s familiar, you know it. You recognize it, but it doesn't change the growing, uneasy sensation in your chest. Your sleep, already shallow, breaks as the quiet becomes too heavy; the loneliness too overwhelming for your mind to tune out.

A breathy gasp fills the room when you force your eyes open and sit up on the small bed, pressing your palm against your sternum to attempt to calm the pounding in your chest.

You don’t need the light from the lamp on your night stand to confirm it, you don’t really even need to turn towards Carmen's side of the bed. You’re sure it's empty, he’s not there.

With a deep inhale, you turn your attention to the only window in the room, the one overlooking a small part of the neighborhood. The same one that would let the sunlight into the room in some of your favorite memories from this place. You stare through the glass for a while, noticing, probably after a while longer than it should’ve taken you, how unusually quiet the night seems. It’s that strange period between the middle of the night and early morning, when the streets are almost completely empty and the city falls silent for a moment. You have grown used to the sounds of the city, welcoming them as a pleasant distraction on many occasions before, so to not hear them feels...bizarre. The strange silence of the now, mostly asleep city seems unnerving and unfamiliar. Only adding to the anxiety caused by your broken sleep.

Taking another deep breath, you attempt to loosen the tension in the center of your chest again. You close your eyes. Another inhale, another exhale. Then again, and again.

The dim light of a small table lamp sneaking into the bedroom from the kitchen catches your attention, and you push yourself off the bed before making your way out of the room.

A couple of floorboards creak under the weight of your body when you walk the small distance from Carmy's bed to the small kitchen connected with the living room.

Carmy sits at the kitchen table, his eyes closed, finger pinching the bridge of his nose. You only catch him in this position for a couple of seconds before he lifts his gaze, the sound of your footsteps catching his attention.

“Hey.”

You whisper first, your words sounding out louder than anticipated.

“Shit. Hey, umm.”

He starts while you slowly walk towards the kitchen table.

“Sorry, if I-I... I woke you up?"

He glances around your face, waiting for an answer, and you offer one in a form of a small, tired smile.

Shaking your head, you wave your hand dismissively, not wanting him to worry about the whole thing.

“I woke myself up.”

“Oh…shit...umm, are you okay?"

You nod, knowing he might need the reassurance, and only drop the smile once he glances down at his hands. Watching him fidget with a pack of cigarettes, you attempt to make the right decision. You don’t want to push him, don’t want to force him to share those things with you if that’s against his will, but sometimes, you simply want to know if there’s anything you can do.

“You can't sleep?”

Nodding in the direction of the cigarettes, you catch his attention again, and he stares at the pack, hesitantly swinging the top open before shutting it closed. “No, no ummm…”

His eyes find yours again, and he taps his fist on the table a couple of times, wondering how to word it properly.

“I had a…a nightmare, I think…maybe?”

Looking up into your eyes again, he falls quiet, almost as if he’s waiting for permission to keep talking about himself, his feelings. You nod, attempting to offer him the space needed for it.

“It just…it happens, sometimes. Or...used to."

His eyebrows pull together while he pushes his hand through the sea of blond curls.

“It hasn’t in a while, I thought… I sorta thought I got over that?”

Scratching the top of his head, he looks up at you again. Squinting slightly, he seems confused with his own feelings.

“Apparently not?”

Nodding softly at his words, you attempt to make sure he knows you understand. You sympathize with him. His posture changes, shoulders dropping slightly when he allows himself to relax. Carmy knows how big of a part your presence alone has when it comes to him grounding himself, even if he doesn't fully understand it. He’d never want to worry you, not with his own shit, he knows how much of your own things you have to deal with every day. So to have you willingly offer your time to him, have you allow his issues in your own space… some days he still couldn’t tell why you did that, but he knew it helped, and how much it meant.

"Do you know why it happens?"

“I don’t.”

He frowns again.

“I don’t know what it is. I guess, it’s like…shit from my whole life, I just don’t know.”

He takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes and pushing his hand against the center of his chest as he does so.

“I wake up, and it’s hard to breathe?”

You nod, silently encouraging him to keep talking, letting him know you’re still there for him, you haven’t changed your mind.

“My chest feels tight like… I can't…it’s-"

"Pressure? Right here?"

You tap your own chest, right in the middle, and he nods slowly.

“Yeah.”

A quiet whisper, almost lost in the silence of the night.

“No, yeah, I…understand.”

You look away from his gentle, now slightly worried gaze, avoiding the bright blue eyes, but never feeling them leave you.

“You get that?”

A slow nod works as a response when you turn to face him again. A small smile while you chose to speak.

“Yeah…from time to time.”

It’s quiet for a moment, he’s the one providing space for you to talk this time.

“You don't really know what’s happening? I wake up knowing I’m here, and it was a dream but, my brain needs a moment to, adjust to that I think? To get that?"

Carmy blinks slowly, focused completely on your words, the pack of cigarettes now resting in the middle of the table between the two of you.

“...I'm sorry you-,"

He starts, sighing loudly at his own thoughts, unsure what to really say in this situation, how could he help.

“Sorry you, have it too.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he pauses for another moment.

"That fucking sucks."

You breathe out a little laugh, the tension of the situation seemingly disappearing at the sound of it.

“Oh, it’s fine.”

You shrug, trying to let him know there’s no reason to worry.

“I’m fine, who doesn’t get extremely vivid nightmares that get to them so much they struggle to function properly after waking up, on a daily basis these days, right?”

The room falls silent again.

"Well... I know, I fucking do."

He confesses after a moment.

"Shit is wild."

You laugh again, catching him smile when you sigh loudly.

"I don't think that's normal, Carmy."

"Oh really?"

He teases, and you can't help the smile again.

"I thought it was like a, you know, like a nightly thing for most people."

"Oh, you thought people were just casually having night terrors?"

"I mean...we do. Maybe it's like...a thing, you know?"

"And we just think it's not normal?"

"Exactly."

He seems satisfied to have you agree with him, and the jokes carry on for the next couple of minutes as you both allow your bodies to relax.

“So, how do you usually deal with it?”

You ask after a moment and watch him think about the answer for a few seconds. He picks up the cigarettes again, lifting the pack off the table to bring your attention to it.

“Umm…”

“Oh!”

You nod with a small smile.

“Yeah, I mean, makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

Carmy responds, not necessarily proud of his answer but, it's not like you wouldn't just guess it. Pointing over his shoulder, in the direction of the living room window, he asks;

“We can split it?”

You smile, shaking your head softly.

“No, thanks, don't really feel like having smoke in my lungs at this hour. I’ll just have some tea, I don't know, sometimes it helps."

He nods, fiddling with the cigarette he already pulled out from the pack.

“But I’ll be here when you’re done?”

You rest your hand on top of his, brushing over the knuckles. He holds onto your hand, glancing up when you squeeze it a little tighter.

“Hey.”

He glances up, his eyes on yours now.

“I’ll be here, Bear.”

He smiles softly at the name, scratching the back of his head before shoving the cigarette back into the pack.

“Actually, can you make me one too?”

“Tea?”

He nods, the pack of cigarettes now pushed away to the edge of the table.

“What about your smoke?”

He shrugs, staring up at you, and you swear you can see the corner of his lips pulling up slightly.

“I think skipping one won’t kill me.”