#carmen berzatto x gn!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astermath · 11 months

Note

Would it be okay to request a Carmy x reader where reader isn't a smoker but consumes lollipop instead? While on a break Carmy storms out stressed, unable to find cigarettes, reader notices his anxiety and causally takes lollipop out of their mouth and put into Carmys. "I know this can't replace nicotine but maybe this time you need something sweet". Carmy is suprised and reader just goes inside to work only to figure out later what they did and frantically running out back to apologize to Carmy. 👉👈

absolutely my dear!! I switched it up a teeny tiny bit, hope that's okay! thank you so much for the lovely idea! ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

word count: 0.8K

warnings: swearing, slight suggestive talk, not proofread lol

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

It had been over a year since you'd quit smoking, a habit you'd originally picked up because of the stress from your job and education combined. And you'd gladly taken the breaks that came along with it.

It had started as a New Year's resolution, quitting smoking, but you took it very seriously. But going cold turkey was hard, really hard, so you'd turned to something else to fill the void.

Lollipops.

Relatively harmless, delicious and allowed inside too.

And your boss, Carmen, had been so kind to let you take your "lollipop breaks" outside too, when the others were smoking. It gained you a few confused looks from your colleagues at first, but they got used to it pretty soon.

A week ago, you and Carmen were closing up, and you'd jokingly offered him a lollipop from your stash instead of a cigarette.

"Hahah, very funny. Those are gotta be laced with somethin' with how much you love them." He reached for his pack of cigarettes.

"Just the recipe for cavities." You started looking through your bag. "Come on, what's your favorite flavor, I got a ton of 'em."

He sighed, putting the small cardboard box back in his pocket. "Give me the apple one."

"Good choice," you handed him the plastic wrapped candy, and he quickly tugged off the wrapper and put it in his mouth.

"Mm," he hummed, hands clasped as his arms rested over his knees. Sitting on the curb was always more comfortable after doing a closing shift. "Haven't had one of these in ages."

He watched you from the corner of his eye. Plump lips wrapped around hard candy, the hard part of it creating a slightly bulge in your cheek, and when you'd take it out, your lips would always make that satisfying pop. Shit, he'd almost started getting some unholy thoughts about it.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, still coming down from a long day of work.

"You know, smoking is really bad for you." You looked up at the night sky, trying to figure out if you were seeing a shooting star or a plane.

"No shit," he huffed, "so is sugar, dumbass."

You chuckled. "Touché chef, touché."

Tonight had been a night just like the one the week before.

You were already sat out on the curb, lollipop in your mouth, humming a tune to yourself, when Carmen went outside to join you. The weather was nice, and it was welcome after you'd just had the most hellish shift in a long time.

He reached for his cigarettes in his back pocket, brows furrowing when the packet felt surprisingly light. He opened it, groaning upon discovering it was empty. "Christ... I gotta let Richie stop bumming cigarettes from me." He was clearly irritated, foot tapping on the concrete as he looked off to the distance.

"Lollipop?" You asked, already reaching into your bag.

"Please," he sighed out, legs straightening out to stretch them a bit.

You started rummaging around, and just like him before, was met with the clear absence of your favorite snack. Either there was a candy thief around, or you seriously needed to start cutting back on how many of those you had per day.

"Fuck, I'm out, uhm..." You noticed how agitated he seemed, and you weren't about to have him go home in a shit mood after he'd worked so hard. So you figured you might as well try and ask.

"Do you want mine?"

He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising at what you'd just said. He trusted you, he wasn't a believer of cooties, but taking a lollipop straight from someone else's mouth was a bit more extreme than having a sip from the same cup. But it was you, he knew you, he liked you, so... Fuck it, why not?

"Yeah... Sure." He watched your lips closely as the hard candy dragged across them, spit painting them so beautifully. He almost didn't notice your hand reaching it out to him, and he took it carefully. He looked straight into your eyes when popping it in his mouth, and you felt like there was something strangely erotic about it all.

"Well," you put your hands on your knees and got up, "I gotta go, I have somewhere to be early tomorrow, so..." You smiled, a little awkwardly. "You owe me a lollipop though."

He smiled, and you did too. "For sure. Now go home, I can tell you're tired chef."

"Heard." You grinned, waving a quick goodbye before walking off to the nearest metro station.

Man, he'd really start enjoying lollipops more if they were all covered in the taste of you.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill @777iii @magicboytrash

#aster replies #aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x gn!reader #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #carmen berzatto imagine #jeremy allen white fic #jeremy allen white imagine #anon ask

353 notes · View notes

luvr-bunnyy · 6 months

Text

fresh bread and the living dead

CARMEN BERZATTO x GN!READER

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none really, mainly fluff. no use of (y/n), carm calls reader ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and one mention of blood

[a/n: alrighty…so, i’ve had such a shit year so far and i’ve also had terrible writer’s block…so i decided a good way to get out of it was to pick random characters and put them into like one of those spin the wheel things online, so yeah…here we go! ALSO !! huge ginormous thank you to @scealaiscoite , they’re halloween prompt list was a huge inspiration for this one and helped me out of my writing funk :( thank you my love 🫶🏼 anyways, enjoy !!]

The beginning of October brought a crisp chill to Chicago. Gloomy skies, roaring wind, a chill that seeps into your bones in the most exciting way possible, and it also brought one other thing. Something that you had been extremely fond of.

Halloween.

The best holiday ever. And no, that is not just an opinion. It is an irrevocable fact.

And so, on one of your rare days off from The Bear, you woke up at 7am. Carefully slinking out of bed to not wake your boyfriend- sorry, fiance. He had a tendency to not want to sleep in on his days off but because you just wanted him to rest, you unlocked his phone and shut off his alarm. Leaving him to rest with a kiss at his temple.

With a yawn and stretch, you shuffled into the kitchen and started to pull ingredients from your cupboards. Flour, yeast, sugar, etc. There was only one way to start the fall season off the right way. Pumpkin Conchas. Marcus had mentioned them during prep one day and you just hadn’t been able to get them off your mind, you had immediately drafted up a recipe and the both of you had worked on perfecting it.

So as you kneaded the dough, all you could focus on was the light and airy feeling of surprising Carm with the warm and delectable bread first thing in the morning.

Your biceps and forearms ached the slightest bit as you placed a tea towel over the bowl that held your dough and with a satisfied sigh, you made your way back to the room to change.

Quickly and carefully stepping into some jeans and a beige waffle knit thermal, topping off the simple outfit with boots and Carmy’s checkered wool jacket. The faint smell of his cologne made your cheeks redden, heart squeezing with adoration and love.

And after a quick trip to Target, you returned with a few bags full of goodies and a dirty chai topped with a deliciously thick pumpkin cold foam.

When Carmen woke up, the delicious smell of baked goods hit his nose. It had definitely offset the disappointment of figuring out that you had sabotaged his early morning alarm but he could never really be angry with you, especially not when he felt so relaxed and rested.

Sluggishly, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the kitchen where the sound of a pan moving against the stove top caught his attention. His shuffled footsteps caught your attention and a fond smile pulled at your lips. “Morning, bear.” He just hummed and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders on instinct. “You’re just in time. I made you breakfast.”

“Smells great, thanks baby.” He placed a soft, chaste kiss against your lips. “Busy mornin’?” He asked somewhat rhetorically, noticing the oven timer still going and the grocery bag with a very familiar red logo on the front.

“Oh well, uh yeah…just-just a few essentials we needed.” You shrugged, leaving him standing by the stove with a guilty smile.

“Oh man…” He laughed to himself, expecting to be met with something ridiculous.

And boy was he right. The second he stepped into the open dining/living area, he was met with an interesting sight.

There were soft orange colored string lights hanging from the top edges of the wall. The decorative pillows he was familiar with had been replaced by pillows with the fluffy shape of ghosts and jack-o-lanterns embroidered on the front, a plush plaid throw blanket with a printed pumpkin pattern was slung over the arm of the couch.

The basket tray on the coffee table had a cheesy looking halloween candy bowl filled to the brim with his and your favorite sweet treats and a new set of coasters. A cute little ceramic ghost sat on the glass surface of said coffee table, alongside a lit candle that was something along the lines of caramel and pumpkin.

He could never understand your obsession with the holiday but you looked so happy, he would never do anything to jeopardize your joy. So, he grinned and gave a simple, “Looks great in here,” before sitting and enjoying the omelette and sausage you prepared for him.

As he took his first bite, you pressed play to resume the movie you had been watching and the sound of a blood curdling scream, followed by the image of gushing blood made Carmen jump. You, however, seemed unaffected as you continued to hang another set of lights around the window.

“Sweetheart…” He called out to you, a worried frown etching onto your face. His wavering tone leading you to believe something was wrong.

“Yeah? Is it the omellette? Is it not good? I asked Syd for advice since I’m shit at cooking anything with eggs. Dammit.” Your dejected tone tugged at his heart.

“No, no, no. It’s not the omelette. Promise. It’s actually really good. You did-you did great. No, it’s just-” He took a deep breath. “I uh-I really appreciate that you’re getting into the uh, the halloween spirit or-or whatever but it’s ten in the morning baby. Could we turn off the slasher movie for a sec, please? At least until I’m done eating?”

The silence that followed made him nervous that he upset you but he was relieved when a quiet laugh left your throat. “Oh! Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Relief flooded your chest. “I’m glad the omelette’s good.” You grabbed the remote and paused the movie once more. Carm watched as you left the app and went back to the homescreen.

“Thank you, you can go back to it when I’m done eating. I’ll uh, I’ll help you with the rest of your-your decorating.”

“Aww thanks bear.”

His focus returned to his breakfast until the familiar notes of ‘This is Halloween’ met his ears and he sighed but the sound of you ecstatically singing along with the animated ghouls on the screen had any protest he had dying on the tip of his tongue. The promise that followed the ding of the oven was more than enough consolation for having to have seen this film for the thousandth time this month.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x gn!reader #the bear x reader #fall fics #halloween fic

57 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 1 year

Text

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.

813 notes · View notes

yandereunsolved · 1 month

Text

- ,, Yandere Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto - ,, tw: implied cannibalism

"Carmy—"

"What? Can't you see I'm busy here?"

"My best friend was murdered. They found their body in a dumpster today. I had to identify the body! Parts of it were missing!"

"Oh. I... I am sorry. That must be tough. Come try my new dish. It'll cheer your pretty face up."

"... Okay, I guess. Maybe you are right. Mhm. This new stew you've made is delicious."

"Thanks, sweetheart. It's a limited time dish. Made especially for you."

"You've just outdone yourself this time, Carmy. The taste. The texture. The overall presentation. You get a ten out of ten from me. How'd you do it?"

"Well, it's locally sourced and homemade. I guess you could just say that my love is the secret ingredient."

#carmen berzatto #the bear #yandere #yandere writing #yandere imagine #yandere aesthetic #aesthetic #creative writing #yandere carmen berzatto #yandere carmen berzatto x reader #gn reader #drabble #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

28 notes · View notes

cloudy-em · 8 months

Note

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.

#fanfic #writing #gn!y/n #gn!reader #gn reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #carmy the bear #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carm berzatto #the bear fic

28 notes · View notes

vampzyke · 9 months

Text

don'ts

male reader, noncon/dubcon, weird kinks etc JUST NOTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY. if ur not sure, send it in anywayy

anyways, here r the characters/fandoms i am open to writing for!

jerome valeska

fiona gallagher

jon snow

daenerys targaryen

carmen berzatto

walter de ville

damon salvatore

tony stark

valkyrie

carol danvers

peter parker (webbverse)

inej ghafa

nina zenik

alina starkov

and etc!!!

If you don't see a character on the list but think i might know/write them, just ask!! Im in a ton of fandoms soo yah

<333

8 notes · View notes

yellowharrington · 2 months

Text

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 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

468 notes · View notes

dropitpunk · 10 months

Text

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!

#the bear #carmen berzatto #luca the bear #luca x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #will poulter x reader #will poulter #jeremy allen white

2K notes · View notes

highttowers · 10 months

Note

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.

#how many ts/lana del rey references can spot???#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto headcanons #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #headcanon #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear on hulu #sydney adamu #🖋️ — my writing #🪁 — requests #🔪 — the bear

1K notes · View notes

jupwrld · 3 months

Note

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 :)

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear x reader

292 notes · View notes

lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber · 3 months

Text

But not when you're around || carmen berzatto x reader

pairing -> carmen berzatto x gn!reader (no use of pronouns)

trope -> hurt/comfort

warnings -> just carmen and his problems then a SHIT ton of fluff at the end

notes -> finally made myself write which makes me happy :]

reblogs and comments are much obliged :]

——————————————-

The worst moment for a chef is when they taste a dish that they have made a hundred times and it doesn’t taste right, like they added something by accident but they don’t know what. The chef goes on autopilot because they’ve made this so many times that the recipe is ingrained in their head, their own scrawling handwriting on the back of their eyelids. It leads them to question everything. Every choice they’ve ever made, every ingredient they put in, every stir of their spoon. Soon, it leads to more and more accidents because they are trying to be careful. They want to do it so well that it ends up turning into more of a mess.

There were so many things wrong with Carmen that at this point, no one tried to help him. Plenty tried. Plenty failed. He simply pushed everyone away, falling into himself more and more. Throwing himself into his craft. He earned award after award. Accolade after accolade. It was never enough. He was never enough. He was never good enough. Everything was in the fight against ever acknowledging his own brokenness. It was all in the pursuit of fixing something that was not ever the problem in the first place. He tried in vain to fix other things around him just to feel some semblance of that healing inside of him.

He was irreparably damaged. He was not about to fix himself and he was convinced no one could do it for him. Never accepted help, always saying that all he needed to do was perfect whatever he was working on. Never getting into a relationship for fear of fucking them up as well. Pushing others away for fear that once they get close enough, once they saw his scarred, battered, broken, bleeding heart, they would leave. This fear drove him. Drove him to greatness in the eyes of others. Drove him to be better than everyone else. Drove him to drown out the voices in his head with everything out. Drove him to isolate himself in fear of harming others.

Like lighting a fire to warm someone else’s hands and getting your own burnt in the process.

But not when you’re around. It’s like every time you look at him, something is healing inside him. Something he had, time and time again, said wasn’t broken in the first place. Every time you silently hold him while he tries to keep himself from breaking down in front of people. You are the best thing that has ever happened to him. He regularly jokes that you’re his savior but inside, deep down, he knows that is exactly what he believes. Every day that he wakes up and realizes that you are still here and haven’t left him is saving him little by little. Slowly he’ll open up, trust him that it isn’t easy for him to talk about his issues because as much as he yells about everyone’s mistakes, he doesn’t ever want to be a burden, if there is an opportunity for him not to tell you his shit, he won’t. Still, there are some more vulnerable nights where he will just start talking about his childhood while he cooks you both dinner. Whenever you’re around him, it’s like someone has plugged him into some unending source of ambient power, it doesn’t surge and it doesn’t falter.

Even if it’s just sitting there and letting him rant on and on about what went wrong that day, he’ll be secretly very happy that you did it. Physical affection is something that he does not associate with actual love so something small like playing with his hair at the beginning is good. He worries that he’ll never be good enough but someone, at some point, told him to find evidence against his thoughts and whenever he thinks of that, he thinks of you. You gently hugging his free arm while he cooks, the gentle kisses you leave on his temples when he says he needs space, just the way you look at him, like he’s the most important person in the world. He has trouble sleeping so after you arrived in his life, he focuses on your breath. The steady in and out calms him, reminds him that you’re still here, that you still love him (which he thinks is insane and will remind you that he thinks it’s absolutely fuckin’ bonkers that you love him), that you find him attractive (handsome even!), that you’ll be here in the morning, that you’ll be there to tug on the back of his shirt in vain attempts to get him to stay in bed just a little while longer because Richie won’t miss him too much right? He knows he’ll always do five more minutes. Ten more minutes. 15 more minutes.

You are one of the best things in Carmy’s life. Slowly but surely, he is fixing parts of himself just so that he can be better for you, and not just you, for his family, his staff, his friends, his customers, for himself. You just existing in his sphere brings him calm, a calm that no one else can give him.

Besides calling you his savior, he also calls you sunshine. The sun is always there. It’s always right where he needs it to be. It doesn’t need to be all bright and perfect all the time, sometimes clouds cover it but everyone knows it's there and just its presence can lift a person’s mood (something he learned from Sydney awhile back and he still sarcastically/honestly tells Richie when he is being an ass). Being around you has the same effect. It’s like the world stops being crazy. Like you told whoever is in charge up there in the sky to let Carmy have a good day.

He cherishes that more than anything. He cherishes you more than anything.

The best moment for a chef is when they try to make something new and it comes out just the way they wanted it, or even better than they expected. For once, he tried letting someone into his life and letting them deal with all of his fuck-up-y-ness. It was, and always will be, the best decision he had ever made.

——————————————-

taglist: @answer2jeff @birminghamshelbyboys @wormswurld @sexyyounglatinoboy @atrwriting

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear #hurt/comfort #carmen berzatto hurt/comfort #carmy berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine

335 notes · View notes

caramelberzatto · 8 months

Text

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.”

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #jeremy allen white #tattoo artist!carmy

305 notes · View notes

smoshyourheadin · 22 days

Text

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.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy bearzatto x reader #richie jerimovich #neil fak #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #smoshyourheadin

88 notes · View notes

cloudy-em · 8 months

Note

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?

20 notes · View notes

chellestrash · 9 months

Text

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.”

#the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction #jeremy allen white

158 notes · View notes