#but fucking cute

[daysofyellowroses]

toast

carmen berzatto x reader | 3.8k | 18+ minors dni | tw: mentions of death, overdose, shitty behaviour, smut, mostly implied but a little more explicit at the end

Going to bed alone is not ideal when you have someone to share that bed with you, but it's par for the course in certain relationships, such as the one you have with Carmy. 

Well, if it can even be called a relationship. From the outside it certainly looks like a relationship, two people who sleep together, eat together, make each other laugh, make out on the couch like horny teenagers and send silly little messages to each other. That's a relationship, right?

Even if you don't technically sleep together, (not always, anyway but usually someone is getting out of bed and picking their clothes up off the floor fifteen minutes later), if you eat leftovers because cooking is too intimate, if the laughter can just as easily turn to empty silence, or frustrated yells. If the messages become less silly and more sparse (you're not quite at "you up?" but you're not far off it) it's still something, right?

Okay, okay, hands up. It's not exactly a relationship, but that's not from lack of want. It's just..Carmy. Fucking Carmy, and his fucking restaurant. Those two are intertwined, bonded for life, never leaving each other. 

In an ideal world, Carmy would be intertwined with you, bonded to you, would never leave you. But it's not an ideal world. 

If anyone knows that to be true, you certainly do. Ideal worlds don't exist, you learned the hard way. Parents who barely notice you exist because they're caught up in their own shitty behaviours. Those same parents divorcing, one dying of an overdose followed by the other dying in a car accident. Being sent to live with a grandmother you barely knew when you were at the start of your teens. 

There were some tiny silver linings, of course. Your grandmother turned out to be the most gentle, loving, compassionate woman with the patience of a saint when it came to you. You were not exactly easy to deal with as a teenager. After growing up around shitty behaviour, it took root in you and you followed suit. After moving to Chicago you started hanging around with the "wrong" crowd,  smoking, drinking in abandoned houses, staying out til all hours and no doubt worrying your grandmother sick. 

Slowly, though ,she started to get through to you. She never screamed or dished out punishments, never gave you a lecture or told you how disappointed she was, but you could always sense it. You were almost 18 before you realised she waited up every single night, refusing to go to bed until she knew you were home safely.

There was no big emotional sit down, no heart to heart. You just started making small changes, implanting them over time. Coming home at a decent hour, making dinner, watching wheel of fortune. 

Not every single night, of course, but you made an effort. One day you happened to pass by a gym and saw an advertisement for a receptionist position, couple of days a week.

To your surprise, you got the job. It was an easy gig, sitting behind a desk and getting to people watch for a couple of hours. There were little bits and pieces of administrative work that you did when you were really bored, but you started to enjoy having a focus, having little achievements. 

College was never going to happen, you knew that. "Intelligent, but does not apply herself" was the constant remark from teachers. What was the point of spending endless hours trying to get into college just to spend a fortune dicking around when you could do that for free at home? 

But that didn't mean you didn't rule out any further options. You took work more seriously, got more hours when you graduated high school. Applied for community college, got accepted much to your shock. 

It wasn't the most amazing student experience, but you made good friends, pushed yourself to apply that Intelligence, and couldn't deny it was an amazing feeling to see your grandmother be so proud, feeling like you weren't disappointing her anymore was the ultimate benefit.

She didn't get to see you graduate, but she did leave you an amazing parting gift, her home became yours. It pushed you to keep going, to not let yourself fall back on old habits. You got a job in an office, got a coffee every day, started going to the gym you used to work in, all in all you were living a perfectly ordinary life.

Nothing to write home about, really, but it meant a lot to you. It meant you being able to say, 'I am not my parents, I am not destined to end up like they did. I am doing good.'

In the relationship department..you always felt like you'd frontloaded all your experience when you were in your teens. You had some fun, did your thing, never really had anything too serious. You dated while in community college, met some nice guys. They bought flowers, made stupid jokes you politely laughed at, got excited talking about craft beer/football/whatever TV show was big that month. One or two relationships, but they didn't really last that long. Still, they made you realise what you wanted, and what you didn't want. 

Then..Carmy came into your life. 

The funny thing was, you weren't actually looking for anything when you met him. You'd decided to sell your grandmother's place to buy your own apartment, which felt painful but you kept her most precious belongings to make your new place feel more like home while still being a new start. Work wasn't particularly exciting but you were doing well, and one of the girls you'd become close with at college had started working with you, which made it more tolerable.

The last thing you'd expected was to discover that same friend was dating someone, someone you never would have paired her with.

Richie fucking Jerimovich.

You had noticed she'd been smiling at her phone more, had mentioned she was seeing someone, and you were happy for her of course but when she suggested going to the Beef one day for lunch the last thing you expected was that it wasn't for the food.

Of course you'd been to the Beef before, it would be a struggle to find someone who hadn't. But it wasn't exactly close to the office, and you hadn't been for a while. Not out of choice, just..it hadn't been somewhere you'd dropped by.

Still, you figured you were overdue for a sweet beef sandwich, so had agreed to go along. When you'd walked in and Richie had smiled so genuinely at your best friend you immediately knew what the situation was.

"Still the only person who can genuinely surprise me, Rich," You had grinned. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"You know me," Richie shrugged with a grin, flipping a towel over his shoulder. "I always got something up my sleeve."

Fucking Richie.

You'd been there, before. The two of you had been at some house party or other, you couldn't remember why or how you'd even ended up there. But you'd found yourself sitting on a couch with Richie, excitedly telling him you recognised him from your favourite sandwich shop. He'd made you laugh, excitedly telling you his Bill Murray story. He was wearing a nice cologne, and he was actually a good kisser, you would give him that. One thing led to another and you ended up upstairs in whoever's house. It had been fun, you didn't regret it, but it had definitely been a one time only thing.

About a week after you heard Michael had died, you'd bumped into Richie again in the supermarket. He seemed to be his usual self on the outside but the spark was gone from his eyes. You hadn't been by the restaurant much since.

Until you went along with your best friend and apparently Richie's new girlfriend. 

You had ordered a sandwich and left them to it while you went to have a cigarette. You'd tried to quit several times, but could never quite do it. And no matter how many times they were suggested, you refused to give in to vapes. So it was out in the breezy air, round the side of the restaurant, searching around in your bag for a lighter.

The cigarette between your lips was begging to be lit, and memories of passing your lighter to Deb from HR that morning hit you. She never had given it back.

You had been about to admit defeat when you heard him.

"Need a light?"

That was it, the most basic question and you could have fallen to your knees with relief. Then you turned and saw him and could have fallen to your knees anyway. 

He offered you his lighter, which you took with a grateful nod. You had closed your eyes as you inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs before breathing it out. He was looking at you intently when you opened your eyes.

You returned the lighter, offering your thanks. He lit a cigarette himself, and you stood in a strangely comfortable and electric silence for a few moments. 

You couldn't really remember what who had spoken first, maybe he had asked you if you were eating at the restaurant, maybe you asked if he was a chef. Either way, conversation was sparked and you felt a growing attraction for him, physically at least. You made him laugh, you knew that. He looked cute when he laughed, you wanted to make him laugh and smile and a whole lot more.

At some point you had both gone back inside, and that was that. 

Until the next day, when you went back again for lunch. Richie teased you about being a regular, you gave him the finger as you went to have a cigarette. No sign of life that time, to your disappointment. 

So you went back again, and again. Sometimes he would be out for a cigarette already, sometimes he would join you. 

Carmy, you learned. It suited him, you definitely thought that. He was already in your thoughts, then his name spilled from your lips at night, alone in your room.

After a week, heading into the second, you were surprised that he hadn't asked you out, or even asked for your number. Not that you were being conceited, more..the two of you had developed a flirtation. Eyes lingered, fingers brushed against skin when the lighter was exchanged. Comments were made, bodies moving a little closer together each time.

Yet, nothing.

It was halfway through the third week when you got a message out of the blue from an unknown number. Evidently your bestie had given Richie your number to pass along, because apparently you were all still in high school. 

Still, it meant you were invited out for a drink. Late, but you figured he worked late, he would only be free late. You had one drink, maybe a couple of sips of a second before you were walking out of the bar and pulling Carmy into an Uber. Maybe he was pulling you, either way you both knew exactly what you wanted.

It was almost like stress relief for you both. Desperate and hot and messy. Neither of you said much beyond 'fuck', 'harder' and moaning, but it was the best you had had in a very long time.

When you woke up alone the next morning, you couldn't help but feel a little confused, and little cheap. You didn't expect him to be laying there looking at you like a lost puppy but you at least expected him to be there. But he was gone, had he stayed and slipped away early or did he wait until you fell asleep and make a run for it?

You tried not to think about it too much, it was what it was, these things happen. Still, if it was half as good for him as it was for you..he would surely want more.

And, it turned out, he did.

You got a classic late night text, and made your way to his place. You barely saw more than his front door, he pulled you in so quickly. It was even better than the first time, and you knew you were already in danger of becoming addicted. 

It took some time to get used to, finding a balance between relationship and fling, but slowly a little routine developed. Not a relationship but..all the elements of one, like a deconstructed sandwich. Which is how it started. He had randomly offered you a PB&J while you were putting your bra back on and you agreed. He didn't have much bread left so you had open faced sandwiches on the couch in your underwear. 

Sometimes when he came to your apartment, you would be in the middle of watching something and he would watch it with you, tattooed hand on your thigh waiting patiently til one of you broke and lunged at the other.

So that was it. There was you, there was Carmy. You did things together, but you were not together. It was just how it was.

Probably for the best, you tried to tell yourself. After all, it's not like Carmy was easy to be around constantly. He could drive you crazy, to the point where you would end up screaming in frustration, have him scream right back at you. Doors would slam, days would pass in silence, then one of you would be standing in the other's doorway, profusely apologizing until there was a trail of clothes leading to the bed/kitchen counter/nearest surface.

But..the funniest thing happened, something you never would have expected. 

Richie popped the question. For real. And got a yes.

Of course you were thrilled, how could you not be when your best friend in the world was engaged? But..it made you reevaluate your own situation. You didn't want to marry Carmy, but..you at least wanted to eat together at a restaurant, sleep in the same bed, watch a whole fucking movie together. 

The engagement party pushed you to the edge. The music was blasting, the food was incredible, you felt great in your dress..but the knot on your stomach wouldn't go away. Here was a couple on the verge of committing themselves to each other forever and you couldn't even get Carmy to commit to sleeping next to you. It was your own doing, you knew. You could have ended it when you started wanting more, but you couldn't do it. And now you had to pay the price. 

You picked a fight about something stupid at the party, unable to stop yourself. You suspected Carmy knew what was going on but had the tact not to say it. You almost wished he had. When you felt you were about to get really angry, you'd gone for a cigarette, the lighter shaking in your hands. He'd followed you, and you let it all out at him, feeling like a damned hypocrite but refusing to give in to the feeling.

You went home alone after that, wondering if that was it between you and Carm. If you wanted that to be it. You had been spiteful, petty, but honest. 

And now, here you stand in your bathroom doorway, exhausted and emotionally drained. 

Sleep is all you want, all you need. So you tell yourself. 

The bed feels cold, too big and too small at once. It's a struggle to sleep, and when you do it's restless and plagued with nightmares. You wake up when you hear something from the living room. Too tired to get up and investigate, awake enough to feel nervous. 

"It's me," A voice calls, sounding closer. It takes a second to register, but it's Carmy, you know it. You frown, wondering how he even got in. You never gave him a key, figuring he'd run a mile if you did.

"Got a key from the bride to be," Carmy explains as he opens your bedroom door. "Hope you don't mind."

You can barely keep your eyes open, frowning slightly before taking a breath.

"Mm. 'S fine," You murmur, resting your arm over your eyes as you roll onto your back. 

You hear his footsteps move closer to the bed. 

"Just wanted to check on you."

He keeps talking when you don't respond, takes a step forward.

"I say a lot of shitty things, I know I do. I can't stop myself, though. They just..they come out before I can stop them and I don't want you to think I mean to be such a fucking asshole."

You slowly lower your arm, resting it on your stomach as you let out a breath.

"What is it you want, then?"

He doesn't say anything, and you feel a knot twist in your stomach as you think he'll leave. After a moment he moves closer, carefully sits on the edge of the bed. He smells like cigarettes and grease and cologne. You hate that you love it. That it does it for you every time.

"You," Carmy murmurs after a moment. His hand lightly rests on your arm.

"That's what I want. I want to stop fucking this up, and I don't know how. I'm not the guy who's gonna buy you flowers and write you poetry, I'm gonna plan a date with you and forget to show up, I'm gonna be unreliable and selfish and a pain in the fucking ass and because I'm selfish I want to keep you even though I know I'm fucking it up and screwing you over. But I want to try and be less of a fuck up."

The words hang in the air, your sleep-addled brain tries to make sense of it all.

"You are going to fail horribly," You sigh, reaching out and taking his arm when he moves it away. You can feel the guilt radiating off him.

"But I know that. All I ask is you learn from your mistakes. I don't expect flowers, and I would rather die than have you write me a poem, but I do ask that you spend the rest of the night with me, then in the morning when I wake up you'll be here. We'll eat toast and watch the news and probably have a fight because we're being too fucking domestic too soon but..it will be a start. Okay?"

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a small smile on Carmy's face that grows when his eyes meet yours. "Okay." 

"Good," You nod, slowly moving yourself up on your elbows. "Now..since you so rudely woke me up, you can help me go back to sleep."

"Yes ma'am."

He doesn't need to be asked twice, immediately diving in to kiss you and pin you down on the bed. All you want is to fall asleep feeling him deep inside you, but it seems he has different plans. 

He takes his time, kissing your neck and peeling back the neck of your pajama top to lightly nip and suck your tired flesh. Your eyes close as his large hand snakes under your top, skilled fingers lavishing attention on your already hardened nipples. You feel like you could fall into the most wonderful sleep but force yourself to stay awake.

“Carmy,” You moan softly, your hand finding his hair on the dark. “Please..’m tired, you know what I want..”

He doesn't stop, and you feel a growing slickness between your legs. 

“I know what you need, baby,” He murmurs softly into your neck. “Let me take care of you.”

You don't object as he moves down between your legs. You realize, with a tired smile, that you two have never been this gentle with each other. It feels good.

“Mm..fuck,” You moan as strong hands spread your thighs,hot breath ghosts over your most sensitive parts. He doesn't even have to do all that much to have you melting. “Carmy..”

“I got you,” He murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs. Your hands rise up and under your pillows as the tip of his tongue slowly touches you. “My perfect girl..”

You want to cry and scream and sleep, your body feeling wonderfully weak. He doesn't rush, tasting you slow and delicately, a low heat rising and twisting in your stomach. His hand moves from your thigh as his lips find your clit, your eyes flutter open as warm digits push into you.

“Oh god,” You whisper, closing your eyes and resting your hand in your forehead. “please..please..”

You feel him nod, and answers your request by not speeding up or slowing down, rather continuing to do what he's doing and doing it very fucking well.

It doesn't take long before the law heat in your stomach becomes a raging fire, your heart racing like it will burst from your chest.

“Fuck..’m so close,” You moan, eyes shut tight, hand reaching down to lightly grip Carmy's hair. Part of you wants to pull him away, part of you wants to push him closer. “I..I..”

“Shh,” Carmy whispers, his voice pushing you closer to the edge. “You can..just let go for me darling..”

You come with a soft cry, your whole body feeling like it's about to sink into the mattress, a heavenly feeling. Carmy slowly moves slowly, you open your eyes as he moves on top you of. You crane your neck up to kiss him and he hesitates for a moment.

“Wanna taste myself,” You murmur softly. He lets out a groan and kisses you before you can even breath. Your hands move into his hair as he kisses you slowly and wetly, it's lewd and gentle at once.

Your hand moves between your bodies, lazily palming at Carmy. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“We don't have to..”

“I'm still awake,” You murmur softly, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “don't break your promise..”

He doesn't break it. 

You don't have your usual sense of urgency, he keeps his shirt on and your pajama top rides up over your chest. But it feels like a new level of intimacy as you wrap yourself around him, as he whispers in your ear that he needs you, he wants you, he won't ever mess up again.

He will, and you will, but in that moment you let the fantasy breathe. 

He moves slowly but deeply, each thrust hitting the spot perfectly. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Carmy's lips against yours, the perfect knot in your stomach that almost unravels, the belief he will stay.

 In the morning you don't have toast.

You are surprised with pancakes in bed. 

The news is on, but neither you nor Carmy pay attention, the pancakes half-eaten on the bed, a trail of clothes leading to the shower.

[ourlordapollo]

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[deniibella]

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[ink-the-artist]

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