#carmen berzatto x male reader

[lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber]

I’ll see you in the stars

——————————————-

pairing -> carmen berzatto x m!oc

trope -> oh so much angst. angst. Devon has a panic attack. hurt/comfort, maybe some ooc Carmen?? but mostly ANGST

word count -> 2,220 (writer’s block kicked my ass on this one)

warnings -> panic attacks

——————————————-

The Uber from Carmen’s apartment was the longest car ride Devon had ever been on. It wasn't that he didn’t like Carmen, he just didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know what he felt at this point. He didn’t know why he grabbed Carmen’s hands so suddenly. There was just something about the chef that had taken hold of him. He needed to do something. There was something about Carmen that made him feel. The thing was, he had never thought these thoughts, felt these feelings. This mix of colors, this mix of numbers, this constant sound of Carmen making the dinner that had made Devon feel sick. Maybe he should have told him that he was allergic to pecans. 

Leaning his dark curls against the window, he silently wished he had asked Carmen to take him home. That would have meant that he could have had more time to pick apart every detail of his face, every detail of his hair, everything about him was fascinating. Everything about him had pulled Devon into loving a man who would never love him back. He had looked so uncomfortable back in his apartment. Maybe he had overstepped? Maybe he had done something wrong. Devon started to play with his fingers as he spiraled. He had taken it too far. He had misread the signs. Maybe Carmen was just being nice. Maybe he had done something completely wrong. Oh god, did Carmen hate him? Was he going to be fired? He couldn’t lose this job. He just couldn’t. He’d call in sick tomorrow, he’d call Sydney, Sydney knew how he felt about the head chef. Sydney would tell him if Carmen was mad at him. He never had the nerve to actually get into confrontations. He shifted in the Uber. Everything smelled like Carmen. Oh no. He ran his thumb along the edge of his coat. Oh no. He had been one hundred percent sure that this was his coat. That’s why everything smelled like the elusive Berzatto. It was his. It was his coat. It was his scraps of paper in the pockets. It was his discarded used tissues at the bottom of the inside pockets. He cringed at the thought but he sunk his head down into the collar of the coat and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the man he wished he could call his lover. Somehow, even with Carmen so intimately close to him, he was even farther. Devon needed to either get away or do something big. As he mulled it over in his brain, he found himself at a problem. He couldn’t take the chance for fear that he might lose the man he had learned to love over the months, that he had learned to care for, that he needed to give his heart and soul for or else he felt he hadn’t done enough. He needed to give his all or else he felt that he was unfulfilled. Somehow, it felt unhealthy but something about it was perfect. Like they needed each other. Devon needed to give his all or else and Carmen was convinced that no one could love him the way he needed to be loved.

Now on opposite sides of town, two men’s minds were one. One was hurriedly cropping vegetables and putting them in sealed containers and one was sketching his lover for the twentieth time. Carmen was trying to get his mind away from the British boy but every whiff of cinnamon reminded him of that laugh, of that chocolate hair, of that soft looking skin. At this point, Devon didn’t know what to think. Carmen didn’t seem like boys, but sometimes people fly under the radar. He hadn’t reacted to any of Devon’s signals so maybe he wasn’t, but he had seemed much more comfortable around him than really anyone else. Devon’s heart soared but like Icarus, flew a little too close to the sun and came crashing down when he realized that Carmen might just see him as a best friend, or worse, family.

Not that being someone’s chosen family was bad, it was just bad for his chances. He had gotten this treatment too many times. Devon was sitting on my kitchen island in his small apartment that he had bought with the money he got because he had gotten a scholarship to culinary school so that meant he had some money left over and that meant splurging on getting a kitchen island. His parents had thought of all of the wonderful things he would cook on that kitchen island but all Devon saw was a really hard, cold place to sit and draw. Perfect. His parents had never wanted him to be an artist, but he was pretty ok at it after practicing in his free time. He was not one of those amazing people you see on the internet but he had gotten good at drawing specifically one thing. Carmen Berzatto. His sketchbook that he had bought with his first paycheck from the Beef was filled up with sketches of the blonde chef. One after another. Pages filling up. By next week he would need a new sketchbook and this one would go in his pile of sketchbooks that held his love. Each devoted to the man who would never love him back.

Somehow this made Devon feel worse. He needed to do something. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, but that could just be propped up to his anxiety induced insomnia. He kept needing to ask someone how one would pick up a prescription in America, but he felt like he’d be a burden to actually ask. He picked at his fingernails as moonlight streamed in through the window of his apartment. He hated the word apartment. It just sounded so janky. It sounded so industrial. Like it was a shipping container that cost too much money. Flat will always be a better word for this box he lived in. He wondered if he would ever start thinking about an apartment as not just, house but home. Maybe that only happens when you’re in love. Being in love sucks. Especially when it’s with a straight boy.

The Beef always smelled good in the mornings. There was a golden zone of time where Devon could slip through the packed area and smell all of the good, savory, delicious food cooking and then he was proverbially locked away in the bakery section with Marcus. Not that he didn’t like Marcus, Marcus was his man. Marcus knew about who Devon was and why Devon never ever called out sick, never showed up late, always went above and beyond, never wanting to be on Carmy’s bad side to the point that the British man would just blend into the wallpaper so well that no one ever noticed that he was leaving the conversation. This particular day, Devon was quieter than he normally is. Holding Carmen’s coat with one hand, he maneuvered like a master. He slipped past everyone and dropped his bag and the coat inside a little nook he had made a while ago. Almost everyone knew how Devon looked at Carmen. Today, Marcus was having none of it. 

“Alright. If you’re not going to tell him, I will.” His voice was hard and full of frustration. Everyone had seen how Devon burned his heart alive like a martyr. Putting himself up on a pier for all to see how he felt and the only person not paying attention was Carmen. The only person who ignored the flames. The only person who couldn’t smell the smoke. Somehow oblivious to heat coming off in waves from the blaze that was fueled by seemingly unrequited feelings. Something in Devon wanted to be braver. To actually tell Carmen how he felt. 

During his break, he would usually sit and smoke but today he was scaling a fire escape close to the Beef and thinking about Carmy. Today’s spiral was thinking about how Carmen would hold him. He knew that it would never happen if he never said anything and even if he said something, there was still that overwhelming possibility of Carmen not liking him in the same way. Oh but just to dream of waking up to a mess of blonde hair peppering kisses to his body. Oh just to be able to wrap his arms around his lover and hear that laugh that Carmen only gave him. Oh to be the object of Carmen’s desires. He dangled his feet until Sydney hit his foot with a stray orange. No one needed oranges, so this was Sydney’s wake up call for Devon. 

That meant that he would have to go back inside. He felt like he was about to crumple. Like something inside him couldn’t go back. Nothing bad would happen but he just couldn’t. His vision started to get darker around the edges. His breath started to quicken. He needed to not be here. Oh god did Carmen hate him? Would their friendship be ruined if Devon told Carmen that he loved him? Devon clutched at the door frame, trying to stay a float as his mind was tugging him ever downwards. He couldn’t drown. He needed to live. He needed to survive. If only just to see Carmen be happy. No matter what it took. He could tell he wasn’t ok but right now all he was focused on was not making a scene. It felt different than usual panic. Like his chest was imploding and his hands were going numb. He was slowly having a panic attack. He hated these. With a burning passion, but there was no way of solving this one. Too risky. If only it was all simpler. If only he could find solace. Right now though, all he needed was solitude. He looked on edge as he slipped past everyone. Every person he passed gave him that look that asked if he was alright and his quickening pace was making it painfully obvious he was not alright in any sense of the word. All the same thoughts kept repeating in his head. It was agony. It needed to stop. 

Little did he know, Carmen wasn’t having the best time either. He is pacing and thinking aggressively about where his jacket is. He knew he had it on him when he was with Devon the night before, but he had gotten swept up in Devon’s perfect brown curls and Devon’s perfect amber eyes, all the freckles that smattered across Devon’s face. Everything about him was adorable and Carmen just couldn’t deal with it. Carmen didn’t even know that right now, Devon was curled up in a ball, hiding from every fluorescent light that was just too bright. He hugged Carmen’s jacket close in a moment of weakness. It smelled like Carmen and that’s what he needed. He didn’t even process Carmy’s footsteps that were getting closer and closer. Another thing that Devon hadn’t noticed was that he had started crying. Carmen could hear the small sobs and made a B-line for it. No one else was here but he knew Devon usually promised to clean everything up for a bit more money so he knew who was crying immediately. He found Devon and dropped to his haunches. 

“Dev, you ok? What’s goin’ on? What do you need?” Carmen’s voice was soft. Strange but not bad. Carmy let one of his hands tilt Devon’s chin as the other tugged the edge of his apron up to wipe off Devon’s tear stained cheeks. He looks so miserable and scared. Carmen sat on the floor with Devon. They didn’t say a word but Carmy tried something. He let his hand fall, palm up. An open invitation. An invitation for Devon to do something. After Devon laced their fingers together. He started to tear up worse. 

Carmen pulled Devon’s head onto his chest and let Devon cry into the white material of Carmen’s white t-shirt. Usually he never let anything stain this but right now, his usual ball of british sunshine was not shining the same, and he cared about that more. 

“I- I’m so sorry, mate. I-I’m making a big deal out of ev-everything.”

“You’re not. This is probably a very good reason and I will let you cry into my shirt for-“ He held Devon’s face, catching some of Dev’s tears on his palm.

 “-as long as you want.” Devon was close enough for Carmen to kiss Devon’s forehead. He couldn’t. He might be overstepping boundaries. He needed something to break. Something to burst. He took Devon’s face in his hands. His usually rough lips planted a small, gentle kiss on Devon’s forehead. 

Their foreheads touched and in an instant. Everything was sweet. Soft and warm. Comforting.

Right.

It was like a flash bang. If anyone asked, neither of them would have known you started it, but after the metaphorical flash of light, their lips were connected. It wasn’t hard and needy like regular lovers who had pined over each other for months on end but no. It was easy. There was no need for extra pressure. It was a kiss of reassurance. There was something calming to it. Something perfect. Something that both of them badly needed right now.

——————————————-

a/n: holy shit. this took me too long. please reblog and comment and like as it helps me know you like what i’m doin :]

@red-write-hand @birminghamshelbyboys @pinguwrites @forgottenpeakywriter @atsv-enthusiast @hanawrites404 @runnning-outof-time @no-fooking-fighting @no-1peakyfan @hllywdwhre @floralcyanide @cilldistilled @stridingseer @darlingsfandom @mrkdvidal1989 @lunavelha @aphroditeslover11 @henrywintersdearestgirl @thatwitchybitch420 @classicsandfantasy @marilynmonroefanfics @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons @scorpinelle @chellyrps @maxwell-demon @atrwriting @cassius-casim @atsv-enthusiast @answer2jeff

[issdisgrace]

SUPRISE VISIT​

WARNINGS: None, unless your counting swearing​

Walking down the street, I pass a group of men bickering back and forth. I smile to myself as I come to a stop in front of the door of the restaurant that read The Beef. This was the restaurant Carmy had recently inherited from his brother after his death. It wasn’t bad a little old looking, but nice none the less. Opening the door of The Beef the bell above the door rings out alerting the workers. A man in his 30s or 40s coming out of the kitchen. 

“What can I get you?” I notice the way he ever so slightly sizes me up thinking of the chance he would have if I caused problems.

“I’m here to see Carmen.” He nods before yelling out.

“Ahh, Carmy there’s a guy in a suit out here asking for you. I think you’re in trouble.” I laugh silently to myself. He’s far form in trouble.

“Give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

“You heard the man give him a minute. So, can I get you something?”

I look from him to the menu that sits above him, scanning the menu. Nothing really standing out to me.

“What do you recommend?”

“I personally love the Philly Cheesesteak. We make the bread here in the house and we get the streak fresh each day.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take that and water.”

“Alright, that will be 10 bucks.” I take out my wallet and take out a 20 and hand it to him. 

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks, I’ll get your order started right up.”

Just as he says that, the door leading to the kitchen swings open revealing Carmen. He walks out and our eyes meet.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be in New York for a couple more days.” Carmen questions as he walks towards me. The other man disappearing to where Carmen came from.

“Managed to wrap up things quicker than expected. So I thought I’d fly here to surprise you and to get something to eat. First class plane food can’t beat anything made in a kitchen that your chief of.” Carmen nods, walking around the counter before engulfing me into a hug. Hugging him back, I kissed the top of his head.

“I missed you.” He says into my shoulder.

“I missed you too, my love. Also, I have surprise for you.”

“What is it?” He says, pulling back from the hug. I reach into my front left pocket and pull out a set of keys. I hold them out for him.

“What are these?”

“These my love are the keys to our home right here in Chicago.”

“What? How?”

“An old friend of mine hooked me up. It’s a 4 bedroom, 4 and a half bath, tall ceilings, big windows, in a nice spot.”

“But what about your job?”

“I transferred to the firm here in Chicago and I’ll be making a little more than I was.”

“That’s great Y/n.”

“Yes, it is, and it also means I’ll have a little more time to spend with you. I was thinking maybe we could go on a little vacation.”

“I’m sorry I can’t. The guys need me here.”

“I don’t think the place will burn down without you here. You need some time to relax and ….”

“Got your Philly Cheesesteak, fresh off the grill. Here you go.” The man says, sliding the Philly cheese steak across the counter.

“Thank you.” I say. He nods before turning around to get my water out of the fridge. He places it on the counter in front of us.

“So you two a thing.” He asks, gesturing between me and Carmen.

“Richie met my fiancée Y/n. Y/n meet Richie. He’s our resident smart ass.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. Didn’t know Carmy had it in him to be with someone long enough to get engaged. You paying him or something?”

“Nice to meet you too Richie and no I’m not paying Carmen.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me. What you do for work?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“What type of lawyer are you? I could use one. I got another custody hearing in a couple of weeks.”

“Richie, you are not going to use my fiancée as a way to get out of paying for child support.”

“Hey, I’m trying to get weekend visitations. I don’t care about the stupid money.”

“I could probably help you out with that. I’d just need prior custody and child support agreements.”

“Sweet, thank you.”

“Alright, alright Richie fuck off back to the kitchen.” 

“Alright, no need to be grouchy, Carmy. I’m not gonna steal your man. I don’t like men like that.” With that Richie went to the back, out of sight. Alone again, I look down at Carmen.

“There was no need to be so rude, Carmen.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just Richie somehow manages to get people to help him, then he messes it up and ends in worse trouble.”

“It’s ok. I’m happy to help and plus, if he’s going to be someone I’ll see around a lot I might as well get to know him.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am, love.” I say looking down on the watch and notice it was 1.

“I’m sorry to cut things short, my love. But the movers should be there at the house soon, and I’ll need to let them in. What time will you get done here tonight?”

“7 maybe 8.”

“Alright, I’ll be back then my love. I love you so much.” I say, giving him a quick kiss before grabbing my Philly and my water.

“I love you too Y/n.” I give him another kiss before quickly leaving The Beef. I smile to myself. I feel good about this. This feels like a new chapter for me and Carmen. I can’t wait to see where this goes.

[thehermitsaltar]

Carmen Berzatto x Single dad Male!reader

Gif by @heardchef

A/N: had this idea, thought it was cute:) also using mobile and I hate it.

"Richie what the fuck-" Carmy mumbles to himself as he paces around the restaurant frantically.

"Still no Richie?" Syd's voice pierced through the air with the million dollar question on everybody's mind this morning.

Instead of an answer, Carmy threw his phone into the office and took a deep breath. Doors opened in 10 minutes and his star front of houser was no where in sight and not answering his phone. He ran a hand through his messy hair and took post at expo, addressing his staff.

"Ebra, meats- and I mean all fucking meats, you are glued to that stove until I say stop. Syd expo and floating, help Tina finish prep and Marcus- finish the cakes right now or I swear to God. I'll be upfront, running register. Heard?"

Nods followed Carmys rambled speech and a chorus of 'Heard' rang out. With a short nod he moved swiftly to open the front of house. It felt like seconds before customers were already walking through the door, shouting their orders at him.

The anxiety of having to focus on everyone's orders and the pressure to keep up casual conversation was getting to him, his blood pounded in his ears and his mind unfocused. His chest began to ache with that familiar feeling. Running back and forth between front and kitchen felt like a triathlon as sweat steadily dripped down his back.

Once there was some semblance of peace, carmy grabbed his discarded phone and read the messages.

'spending the day with the kid. sry cuz.'

Carmy plopped down into his office chair and put his head in his hands. Today's stress weighed down on him like a ton of bricks and he was exhausted already. The few moments he spent wallowing were interrupted by the familiar 'ding' from the bell above the door.

Once he stood back up, he could feel the ache in his back and knees. Trudging to the register, he began his spiel.

"Welcome to The Beef, what can I get started for ya?"

His eyes naturally stayed on the ground until the silence from his customer caught his attention. When he picked his head up and looked at the man in front of him, his breath hitched in his throat. Hitched in a way he hadn't felt it do in a very long time.

The man in front of carmy was stunning, truly stunning. Carmy was so captivated by the man in front of him that he didn't notice the toddler on his hip until said toddler started gurgling with excitement. The sweet noise made something in his soul warm. The same warmth he felt when he tried a new recipe and nailed it.

The man in front of him had a hand on his chin and was inspecting the menu above Carmys head.

"Haven't been here in a while, what do you like?" The man finally made eye contact with Carmy and that's what did him in. Carmen's face flushed and his childhood stutter made a guest appearance.

"W-well, t-the beef is good- I prefer it h-hot and-" Carmy let out a deep sigh, focusing on the way his chest filled and expanded to ground himself. "Sorry." He cleared his throat and flushed harder, but this time with embarrassment.

"Hey don't worry about it." The man smiled and adjusted the child on his hip.

Something about the man's voice made Carmy relax, his shoulders slouched and his anxious grip on the counter loosened.

"Can I get an Italian hot, dipped?"

Carmy nodded and began ringing up the order. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I heard you guys have cake now right? This little dude was so brave for his shots so I think he deserves a treat." He finished his sentence by ruffling the little boy's hair and blowing a raspberry into his cheek. The child squealed and giggled.

A small smile crept onto Carmys face, showing off his dimples and bright blue eyes.

"We do have cake, best in Chicago if I say so myself."

"Yeah? Does that sound good buddy?" He turned to the boy in his arms and got an enthusiastic nod in return. "We'd love some."

"Ice cream?"

"Well of course."

"Of course, of course."

Carmy actually felt himself giggle. A sweet little noise drawn from his lips. The man smiled wider at the sudden noise, his heart fluttering in his chest at this floppy haired chef.

"I'll get this right out for ya."

"Thank you..?"

"Carmy."

"Y/n, and this is my son Sammy."

Carmy bit his lip as he finished ringing up the order, stepping away into the kitchen. He made a b-line for Marcus and looked over his station with that same smile on his face.

"Slice of cake, chef." His voice was relaxed and sickly sweet, almost worryingly so.

Marcus turned to him with a quirked up brow, Carmen's demeanor was completely foreign to the crew.

"You alright chef?" Syd spoke carefully.

"I'm good, chef. I'm good."

[dogboyswrites]

Fandom List

Shows:

- Stranger Things

- The Umbrella Academy 

- Haikyuu!!

- Our Flag Means Death

- Bridgerton

- The Bear

Marvel/DC:

- Batman/Nightwing

- Spider-Man (please specify which one) 

Games: 

- The Quarry 

- Fire Emblem Three Houses

- Omori

[nolita-fairytale]

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

october 2019 | covid & carbonara | heat waves | 2/22/22** | called you again | home**

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday (**18+ for smut) | saturday/sunday | monday | tuesday, again | the playlist

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

strawberries & cigarettes (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

thursday | **bonus smut scene | friday | saturday | sunday | it's perfect, chef (**bonus smut scene)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

june/july | august | september | the honeymoon pt 1 | the honeymoon pt 2 | epilogue: november

granola blurb

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

part one | part two | part three | part four | give you my wild, give you a child (**smut-shot) | part five | part six | part seven

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

so my darling | sydney adamu x male!chef oc

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[fooled-around-and-fell]

carmy’s pov (or not lol however you prefer) getting a bj from his gf

a/n: i'm sorry i'm not good at writing povs from a male character 😭 carmen berzatto x female reader minors dni, 18+ only, oral (male receiving), humping?

-----

"god that feels good."

carmen pants as he looks down to meet your sultry eyes, sucking him off with both your hands behind your back.

your lipstick's a mess, your mascara running down your cheeks with your tears, and carmen thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

you release him from your mouth with a pop, taking breaths while licking the underside of his cock. carmen's brows are knitted together, looking at you as if asking how the fuck god made you so perfect?

your mouth now lingers around his tip, swirling your tongue and occasionally taking him in your mouth again and sucking his tip.

he groans, throwing his head back. carmen's not usually patient but he had promised to be for once and just take what you give him, and oh, you give him plenty.

he pulls you up to sit on his lap and almost has you give in with his tip now prodding your entrance, coating himself in your sticky slick.

"baby, please," he begs, "need to feel you."

"but i'm not done with you yet." you pout, pushing him to lie down on the bed.

you sit on carmen's cock, sandwiching him between your pussy lips and dragging your hips back and forth. his grip on your hips tightens, you're sure it'll leave bruises in the morning.

"what's wrong carmen?" you giggle. his ears are red, chest heaving.

he begs you one more time, and when you finally give in, you've never seen him lift your ass up so fast to be inside you.

[etherealising]

chapter four | to burden natalie berzatto

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing: platonic!natalie berzatto x f!reader | slight carmen berzatto x f!reader | slight the bear crew x f!reader | male!oc x f!reader |

summary: your lack of competent decision-making after mikey’s death puts natalie in a compromisng position.

warning(s): substance abuse | overdose | grief | self-sabotage | angst | humor as coping mechanism | one mention of ativan | unintentional self-harm | blood | hospitals | scars | mention of treatment centers | rehab | recovery | thoughts of relapsing | appreciation of natalie berzatto | avoidance of grief | selfishness | memory loss | unhealthy grieving mechanisms | PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

wc: 8.1k

please remeber you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any warnings trigger you DO NOT READ!

The smooth music filtered out of the record player, a rich voice singing through the house painting the atmosphere with a calm vibe. The two occupants were gathered in the living room, sifting through the last of the boxes that contained small decorations and keepsakes. Discussing what would look best where and what should have been left behind in the move.

You looked over your shoulder to check on Nat, her sudden silence cause for concern. Circling over to her you realized what had stolen the words from her lips. You maneuvered to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the framed photo in her hands, the two of you silently reminiscing.

You placed your head on her shoulder as she let out a quiet sniffle, her emotions heightened due to her condition. “You looked so beautiful that night,” you let out a quiet laugh before moving to stand next to Nat, eyes still focused on the framed Polaroid in her grip.

It had been a year and it still wasn’t easy to look at any pictures of Mikey without feeling like your chest would cave in. You hadn’t seen this particular picture since his passing, the grief too much, all memories painting your west coast apartment shoved into a nondescript box.

You understood now why it was so important to label your boxes when moving. If the box in front of Nat had some type of label on it, you knew for sure it already would’ve been shoved into the dark recesses of your closet.

“You can just put that one back in the box,” you left Nat’s side to continue going through your box, pulling out the book designated to sit on your coffee table.

Natalie watched you from her side of the living room, a small scowl painting her face as she watched you so easily disregard a memory that had once been so special to you. She looked back down at the picture, your bright smile staring back at her as Mikey and Richie leaned in to kiss your cheeks. A fond memory of the three of you the night of your senior prom.

Looking back at you one last time Nat let out a sigh before walking over to the mantle and setting it on the corner, visible for everyone to see. She understood how much Mikey’s death affected you, but there was no way you could heal from the hurt if you never allowed yourself to live in the uncomfortability of grief. It was something you had to want for yourself.

Nat had half the mind to keep digging through the box, eyes catching on another memory. Not wanting to sour the first night in your new home, she replaced the cover, doing her best to act as though she wasn’t curious about the box of memories.

The doorbell rang as you were looking for a place for the picture of you and your mom at your college graduation. Carefully sitting it on your coffee table you made your way to the door making sure to grab your wallet on the way. You opened the door to see the pizza delivery person standing there, giving them the money and a tip before thanking them.

“Oh that smells delicious,” you laughed as Nat followed behind you to your decent-sized kitchen. The two of you grab plates and a slice of pizza before heading to your couch.

Setting your plate on the coffee table, you left to quickly grab two wine glasses and the sparkling cider Natalie and Pete bought you as a housewarming gift. Stopping to grab a bottle of water from the fridge for Nat just in case the cider upset her stomach before taking your seat on the plush couch.

“I’m happy you’re home Baby.” Your eyes met Nat’s before you moved to pour yourself a healthy amount of sparkling cider, ignoring Nat’s laugh at the full glass in your hands. You raise your glass in a mock toast, at least one of you was happy that you were back.

“I guess it's good to be back. Nice to be around people that care about me,” the grateful smile sent Nat’s way as a form of thank you.

Natalie deserved more than a pathetic smile and both of you knew it.

You had been relatively alright after Mikey’s death, which came as a surprise to everyone. Your impromptu stay in Chicago after the funeral was a way for you to keep an eye on Natalie and Donna, occasionally helping Richie at The Beef when you could.

But you had to return to your own life eventually, and when you did shit spiraled out of control for you.

People always drone on and on about the five stages of grief and how it affects everyone differently, and you never thought that statement to be more true than when you stepped foot in your apartment upon your return from Chicago. Grief is supposed to come and go, you were doing everything that everyone was telling you to do. Following all the steps, checking all the boxes. Forcing yourself to try and heal, to feel your emotions as much as you would allow yourself to.

But at the end of the day, it was just you, an apartment full of memories, a voicemail you were too scared to ever listen to, and the shadow of your grief following behind you.

You experienced all the denial, anger, bargaining, and depression and you waited and hoped for the acceptance to come. But all that ever came was the cycle of grief replaying in your life like a bad dream.

You had thrown yourself into your work, anything to forget about the pain Mikey’s ghost left behind. And when your psychiatrist recommended a prescription to aid with your anxiety, you accepted. Anything to escape the shadow of a man you once knew appearing in your apartment on late nights.

But then the prescription wasn’t enough, and the alcohol you once used to numb everything had lost its edge, your days just turned into functioning as best you could. And then there were times you couldn’t even remember the previous day, the last five minutes, falling asleep on the couch.

You had become dependent; dependent on the alcohol and the drugs, and the way they made things all better for a short time.

And then you had woken up in the hospital one day, with no memories of how you got there, no care for what happened to you.

The figure in the chair next to you helped you to escape the fog in your brain. The woman you had known your whole life looking down at you with a tear-stained face, her hand tightly clutched around yours, her presence all the more confusing.

The silence in the room was too loud for you as you just watched the blonde, the lack of emotion on your face breaking the woman down even more. When the doctor came in to explain what happened it shocked you. Not because of the severity of the situation, but because you couldn’t remember a thing.

The theory was that you had been mixing prescription drugs and alcohol for some time, a truth you already knew and were purposely partaking in.

You were at your apartment after work winding down from the long day, pregaming for a night out with your co-workers. The Ativan you had taken earlier at work already put you at ease. You were trying to get to your patio for some reason but had trouble with the sliding glass door.

Too inebriated to unlock it you had essentially thrown yourself against the glass until it finally gave way to the weight of your body and you ended up face down covered in glass and the pool of your blood.

Not fazed by your injuries you collected yourself, glass and all. Grabbing your keys from the counter leaving to whatever destination you had in mind. Somewhere between removing yourself from the mess of your ruined sliding door and stumbling out into the hallway, you swallowed two more pills.

According to the reports, a neighbor found the mess of your body in the hallway, making it a mere few inches from your door before your body succumbed to the deadly cocktail swirling inside you.

In October of 2022, 8 months after Michael’s death; you would overdose.

You were broken from the haze of memories as you felt a dip in the couch. Natalie came to sit right next to you head resting on your shoulder, you gently laid your head on top of hers. You owed Nat your life.

A quiet sniffle left you, losing the battle to keep your emotions under wraps. “You’ve done so much for me Sug, and I…I’m sorry if I haven’t shown you enough appreciation.” You felt Nat’s arms wrap around you, squeezing you into a side hug as the two of you sat in each other’s presence.

It was no secret that without Natalie and Pete, you might not have been experiencing this moment. You for sure wouldn’t have gotten your shit together if you were still all alone on the West Coast. Nat had gone out of her way to find the best treatment facility on the East Coast for you, it had been decided that you would make the move back to Chicago when you were released.

So while you were away facing the consequences of the darkest moments of your life. Nat was at home picking up the pieces of your life while also trying to keep hers intact, not that you realized or cared back then.

Nat and Pete sold the family home that was still in your mom's name, nobody needed to ask to know that it wasn’t healthy for you to live in or across the street from a museum of memories. The couple got you a good deal on a quaint home not too far from them, the leftover money put towards the rest of your savings.

Natalie Berzatto, a miracle worker in your eyes had somehow pulled strings to get you an interview with the Tribune. So yeah, you owed Nat a lot more than placating smiles and cheap pizza.

“Are you sure you’re ready for tomorrow?” You shifted positions at Nat’s question, the two of you now sitting criss-cross applesauce, facing each other on the couch. You gave a small nod, fingers playing with your fuzzy socks.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” you let out a small laugh. “I can’t expect you and Pete to babysit me forever.” You smiled up at Natalie, the prospect of writing again caused a sense of excitement to stir within you. It felt like the only thing you had left, the only thing you were still good at. Although you had almost completely fucked up your life, you still had your writing, and that was a start.

“Maybe we can meet up for lunch after?” You didn’t want to celebrate too soon, you hadn’t even got a job yet, but the idea of a lunch date with Nat sounded like the best form of indulgence you had allowed yourself in a while.

The night continued with the two of you talking, Sugar doing her best to catch you up on all that you missed sans any mention of a certain blue-eyed baby brother she had. As the night began winding down the two of you cleaned up the mess of your dinner, before you sent Nat on her way with promises to fill her in after your interview tomorrow.

Making sure your kitchen was cleaned to your liking, you made your way into your room to begin settling in for the night. A knit crew neck you had meant to return to its rightful owner once upon a time, becoming the basis of your pajamas after a relaxing shower.

Settling into bed you couldn’t help but lie awake, mind racing with all the different scenarios that could play out tomorrow. This was your first night alone in your new home and the reality of just how alone you were slowly began to sink in. You knew Nat would always be there for you if need be, but she had her own life to live, the beginnings of a family in her near future.

All you had at that moment were your racing thoughts and the regrets of a life you had almost ended too soon.

You sat in the lobby of the Tribune leg bouncing nervously as you waited for your meeting with the editor-in-chief, resume, and copies of your work sitting snugly in your tote bag. You knew Natalie had already sent over your information, but your nerves forced you to believe that being over-prepared would be necessary.

The sound of the receptionist calling your name caught your attention. She was standing a little ways away from you waiting for you to follow her, you gave a nervous smile before rising from your seat and following the rhythmic click-clack of her heels down the hall. As you watched her walk in front of you, you thought you may have been a little underdressed in your casual street clothes, but you forced yourself to push your thoughts aside. They’d be judging you for your backlog of work, not your choice of attire.

The receptionist lead you to a corner office, the frosted glass of the exterior providing a sense of privacy. Ushering you into the empty room she let you know that the editor you’d be meeting with would join you shortly. You sent her a small thanks before walking into the room, eyes catching on the minimalistic decorations scattered around the office.

Your feet lead you to the wall of windows situated behind the desk, the view reminding you of an office you had occupied so many months ago. You looked out over the Chicago skyline, it still felt so surreal to be back in this city.

The face staring back at you something you were still learning how to get used to. The scars that decorated the right side of your face were healing up nicely considering how deep some of the glass had gone.

You jumped at the sound of the door closing, someone entered so swiftly you hadn’t even heard them, or maybe you were just too wrapped up in memories of a past life. You hurriedly turned from the window not wanting to seem rude, the man who had entered the room caught your eye before gesturing for you to take a seat at one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

You felt a little less concerned about your fashion choice as your eyes followed his Levi-clad legs as he settled into the chair behind his desk. You could feel your nerves returning, not knowing what to expect from this interview. In the most humble sense you had forgotten what being interviewed felt like, not having to go through the process since getting your first big journalist job straight out of college.

“Nervous?” Your leg stopped bouncing as the man’s voice met your ears, a shy smile curving your lips.

“Here I thought I was being subtle,” you tried to joke hoping to relax yourself a bit. The responding chuckle helped somewhat, so far the man sitting in front of you didn’t seem like too much of a stickler.

“Never thought I’d see the day you were nervous in front of me Baby,” you tried to control the look of disgust you felt begging to paint your features. You were grateful for Nat’s help but you were sure this was a mistake.

“I’m sure HR has their hands full with you.” You mumbled, the roll of your eyes showcasing your irritation. “Thank you for the opportunity sir, but I don’t think this is a good fit for me.” You reached out to the chair next to you where you had sat your tote bag wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“No wait,” the sound of the rolling chair moving rapidly caused you to stop, seconds away from rising from your chair. You turned your attention to the figure in front of you eyebrows pinched together.

“It's me, Hayden,” your brows furrowed even more, your mind searching your memory for that name. “I…uh, I took you to senior prom. We met in our creative writing class that same year.”

You felt your eyes widen as your mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’, eyes darting to the pristine nameplate facing you on the desk. The name ‘Hayden Ivanovski’ staring directly back at you.

“No fucking way.” The whisper traveled easily through the silent office, Hayden’s echoing chuckle caused you to let out a small one of your own. “I’m sorry, it's just nobody but close friends and family even call me that anymore. And, I really wasn’t expecting to see you.”

You watched as he nodded, you could see it now. The boy you once knew in the maturity of his face, hadn’t changed much but it was enough that you wouldn’t easily recognize him if he passed you on the street.

“Uh, the porn stache sure is a uh choice,” your hand raised to gesture to your upper lip, you couldn’t help the smile curving your lips.

Hayden laughed head dropping as he resumed his seated position. “Divorce makes you do crazy things,” your smile faltered, you hadn’t meant the quip as an invitation to discuss any personal grievances. “No need to look so sad, it was mutual.” He shrugged the topic off like he hadn’t given it a second thought in a long while.

You nodded your head distractedly, “Enough about my failed marriage, how have you been?” You gave him a small smile, mind going blank as you thought of the best route to take this conversation.

“I uh, almost died five months ago,” the laugh ripped from Hayden’s chest, the last thing you were expecting to hear. You watched as he found your eyes, his smile disappearing as he took in the harrowing look on your face.

“You-you’re not serious are you?” The question almost caused you to laugh.

“As serious as my overdose was,” you watched as Hayden shifted in his seat, the air easily became uncomfortable. “Sorry coping mechanism.” You laughed the topic off, you had assumed Nat told him when she booked you this interview.

“So um, when does the interview start,” your leg began bouncing up and down again, the nervousness returning. If you hadn’t already made a bad impression you were sure exposing your less-than-stellar life choices definitely lost you the job.

“Nat didn’t tell you?” You stopped your brows from pinching together, the constant frowning sometimes the tiny scar between your eyebrows. “I don’t need to interview you, you’re an amazing journalist. I hired you the second Nat told me you were moving back. That is if you want to work here.”

“You’re not just hiring me because we went to prom together, or as a favor to Natalie are you?” Nat had helped you to get your foot in the door, you had wanted to secure the job because of your merit.

You watched as Hayden quickly shook his head, “While it is nice to reconnect with you, we need some experience in our newsroom. I know before your uh… incident you were working as a travel journalist, and the pay here wouldn’t be the same. But you’d still have full control over the stories you write, although you might not write as often as you’re used to.” You nodded along listening to his explanation. The fact that this was happening failed to resonate with you.

“So, the position of Managing Editor is yours if you want it.” Hayden sent you a small smile awaiting your response, he did his best not to focus too long on your scars as he stared in your direction.

“As long as I can write and edit then I will happily work for you,” the large grin spreading across your lips stretched the small scar stitched into your upper lip.

The smile on Hayden’s lips matched yours as he walked around the desk to shake your hand. The two of you sat there going over the expectations that your new role required, Hayden explaining the environment he tried to uphold at the paper.

You finished the meeting off with a tour of the floor the Tribune occupied, the one you’d mostly be working on. The two of you caught up a little as he input you into the system and created your badge so you could easily come and go as you pleased. You learned that he married Marlene Buchanan, a girl you went to high school with. The ink of their divorce still drying after only being finalized two months ago.

He invited you out to lunch but you had to rain check explaining the plans you made with Natalie promising the two of you would work something out in the future. He walked out with you, the two of you parting ways once you left the lobby.

You stood on the sidewalk taking in the crisp Chicago air. Your life was finally starting to feel like your own again, and even though you had only secured a job, the inevitable weight of doom that followed you was beginning to feel a little lighter.

Natalie was pacing in the office quickly moving to close the door as the chaos sounding through the building caused a headache to form. She knew Cicero would be there in the next hour, and that the money problem was their biggest issue in getting the new restaurant up and running.

The urge to call you was immediate after speaking with Cicero. Nat knew how much you cared about this place, and regardless of what anyone else thought she wanted you to have a say in any decision they made now that you were permanently back in Chicago. And she’d be lying if she said the reserved funds that came with you weren’t also a reason to invite you to this meeting.

Shouts could be heard through the door as she finally made her mind up, you two had plans for lunch anyways so you could just meet her and the two of you would leave together. Any excuse Nat could think up to call you would help her.

Sighing she scrolled through her contacts before forcing herself to press on your name and just call you. She listened as the phone rang, part of her hoping you didn’t answer her call, the hope immediately dying as your voice sang through the speaker.

“Nat, hey! I was just about to call you,” She smiled at the light tone in your voice, a tone she hadn’t heard in quite some time. “We still on for lunch?” The question caused her to take a deep breath, it was now or never she either asked you or she didn’t.

“Yeah of course. Uhh but would you mind meeting me at The Beef?” She was hoping the question came across as nonchalant, she called out your name as the line went quiet, sure you had hung up on her.

“Nat, I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” the apprehension in your voice made her feel guilty for even asking you in the first place.

“Listen, Baby, I know how you feel but we’re making a big decision today and I feel like you deserve to have your input heard,” she waited for a minute before continuing. “If it triggers you we can leave immediately, no questions asked okay? I just…this might be good for you.” She bit her lip as she waited for your response, she would be okay with whatever you decided but at least she had put the opportunity out there.

“I think I can be there in 45 minutes,” the tired sigh that escaped your lips matched the way Nat was feeling.

“Thank you, Baby.” She listened as you said your goodbyes before hanging up the phone, Nat was sure if she didn’t already have morning sickness she would’ve thrown up from that phone call alone.

It was exactly as you remembered it. Not that you had expected the exterior to change in the year since you’d been there. Although not physically changed things felt different, it no longer felt nostalgic as you stood there looking at the newspaper-covered windows. You could feel the anxiety eating away at you, the sick part deep inside of you wishing you had something to numb your feelings.

You could hear the faint sound of an alarm blaring with how close you were standing, the sound helping you to focus on the things you could control. You hadn’t come all this way just to look at the old building’s facade, and part of you didn’t think you could take disappointing Natalie by walking away. Nat wouldn’t have been disappointed in you though, but since your accident, you were scared to ever see that look in her eyes again.

The deep breath of fresh air filling your lungs helped to cool you down a bit. The pairing of your puffer jacket and scarf felt a bit suffocating.

In through your nose out through your mouth, a few more deep breaths were all you allowed yourself before forcing your hand to grip the door handle and step foot into a building that might haunt you for a lifetime.

The constant screeching of the alarm was so loud it made you glad that it drowned out the sound of the bell ringing above the door. Your eyes traveled around the restaurant, it was the same but it wasn’t. Little things missing telling you that some type of work was being done.

“As I live and fucking breathe!” The loud voice you would recognize anywhere drawing your attention to the dining area, Richie’s large figure taking up the doorway.

You shared a small smile with him. Subtly adjusting your scarf to cover the most noticeable scar lining your face, you watched as the older man took steps to close the distance between the two of you. The tall man quickly pulled you into a tight hug.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed a hug from Richie until you were snuggly pressed against his chest, the warmth of his body helping to relax you. The unconscious thought crossed your mind that you might have never experienced one of these hugs again if you hadn’t made it to the hospital in time.

The love Richie was pouring into the hug caused your eyes to water, Mikey’s passing bonding the two of you, the loss of someone you both loved so much bringing the two of you impossibly closer. But not close enough for him to know the path you had taken after. And not close enough for you to want to burden him with being just another addict in his life.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your head before pulling away, the annoying alarm still blaring at full volume. You stepped back to give him space, “You been fucking around in the crawl space Richie?” The question paired with your signature grin as Richie let loose his boisterous laugh.

“Of course, you’d fucking know about the alarm.” Richie’s disgruntled mumbling met your ears.

“Hey, Richie, could you please turn that goddamn motherfuckin thing off?” The voice of Cicero filtered through your ears. “It’s making me insane!”

“My bad Uncle J, Baby just walked through the door and shit like a ghost. Fucking Mikey booby trapping crawl spaces and shit.” He poked his head back into the dining room to let the occupants know he somewhat had the situation under control.

“Mikey’s fuckin Kevin McCalliper-,” The responses correcting Richie caused you to let out a small giggle, the noise bringing a smile to Richie’s lips.

You continued standing with Richie as he spoke to somebody on the phone, the long one-word password he gave made you chuckle. Pretending you knew how to help Richie was an excuse to not join the conversation going on in the back for a while.

While the blaring alarm was causing your ears to ring, the loud noise was a buffer between your impending thought and the inevitability of being back in this restaurant. The sudden quiet was the only sign that you would have to face a now unavoidable situation.

“Here lemme take that,” Richie reached out expecting you to give him your scarf and jacket. You hesitated, your wardrobe feeling like a sense of armor for the time being.

“Uh, I’m actually pretty cold. Thanks, Rich.” Your hand shot out to pat his bicep, head jerking in the direction the voices were coming from. “Sugar in there?” You didn’t need Richie to reply to know the answer.

You followed Richie’s lead as he headed to the back, taking a deep breath to still your nerves, not all too sure what you were getting yourself into. You watched as Richie pulled up a chair next to Cicero for you, taking your tote bag out of your hands as he gestured for you to sit. You smiled politely, giving him a small nod as you moved further into the room.

Three out of four familiar faces stared back at you, the look on Nat’s face indicating how much it meant for her that you showed up.

“What is this an intervention?” You made the joke as a way to cut the tension that had filled the room, the silence felt even louder as Nat said your name in a reprimanding tone, the joke not being funny to her one bit. You shrugged before moving to sit in your designated chair, shooting a small smile to the dark-skinned woman who was eyeing you from across the table. Your eyes easily avoided the blue ones you knew too well.

You listened as Nat cleared her throat, all attention focused on her. “So uh, I invited Baby here because I think she deserves to be a part of this decision.” Four eyes flashed to you as you awkwardly adjusted in your seat. “And, um she has a decent savings account.”

A snort left your lips at Natalie’s rushed words, her ulterior motives for inviting you here reminding you a bit of her mischievous brown-eyed older brother.

“Sorry uh, big fan of your work. But uh, how do you play into all this.” Your eyes drifted to the unknown woman, a smile played at your lips, a feeling of shyness sweeping across you at the fact that she had any idea who you were.

“Family friend.”

“Old acquaintance.”

The three other people at the table looked between you and Carmy, eyes darting back and forth at both of your explanations. You couldn’t help the cackle you let out, missing the look of panic shooting through Natalie’s eyes. You couldn’t recall a time you would ever describe your relationship with Carmen Berzatto as an acquaintanceship.

“Baby is a close family friend,” Nat interjected before any other response could be given. “A friend we should be thankful for even considering investing in the restaurant.”

Your eyes finally found Carmy’s having a hard time taming the smile threatening to spread across your lips. The false confidence you were exuding helped you not overthink the situation you were in.

The conversation picked back up where it had left off after you entered. You sank into your seat shoving your hands into your jacket and tucking your chin into your scarf as you did your best to pay attention. You couldn’t help but let your eyes travel across the mostly empty dining room, memories of a life that no longer felt like your own clawing to overtake your senses.

Up and down, up and down. The tick you gained while in recovery helped you to remain in the present your leg working overtime as it bounced to keep you focused.

The voices talking around you are drowned out by your wandering thoughts. Thoughts that had you re-evaluating your relationship with Natalie.

It was no secret that you had become a selfish person after Mikey’s death, every decision you made was to benefit you, and if someone else somehow benefited from it then good for them.

That was the reason you stayed in Chicago so long after the funeral, telling yourself that the remaining Berzattos needed you, that you were staying to make sure they made it out of the deep end alive.

But that was a lie, you stayed because you were too afraid to face your own emotions, afraid to face your grief head-on. Even now you could say you stayed behind to ensure Donna and Sugar were okay, but deep down you knew that you stayed because you didn’t want to be alone.

You helped Richie at The Beef because he needed you, needed to know he wasn’t alone. In all actuality, it was you who needed them, you who had become dependent on people grieving just as much as you.

The same could be said about your substance abuse after returning to your reality. The idea of never being able to talk to Mikey, see Mikey, or hold Mikey was all just an excuse you used to justify your indulgences.

You constantly told yourself that it wouldn’t be fair to burden Sugar or Richie with your hurting, that they didn’t need to babysit you while trying to heal themselves. That when your memory became spotty and you missed more than one of Sugar’s calls, it was because she didn’t need to put up with you and your problems.

And then unintentionally or not, you became Natalie’s problem. Not even letting her brother’s grave grow cold before you forced her to face the idea of losing another person she spent her whole life loving.

You pleaded with the universe for Nat to wipe her hands of you. To let you waste your life away and rot like you were starting to. To turn her back on you, because how could you so easily fall into the same vice as Mikey knowing how much it affected him; knowing how much it affected the people who cared for him.

How dare you pretend as though no one would give a shit if they had to bury you mere months after putting Michael to rest. How fucking dare you be so selfish.

There were nights in bed where you’d lay awake questioning your intentions. Had you purposely thrown your life away because you knew Natalie would come to your rescue? Did you somehow manipulate Natalie’s good nature into digging you out of a hole you were so far gone in you couldn’t bring yourself back from?

You always got on Natalie about putting herself first, and how she needed to stop stretching herself so thin for everyone else. And then you went and almost fucking died, and you forced her to take on a role she had been playing her whole life.

You had willingly ruined your life and forced Natalie to face the consequences.

If there was one thing you learned in your recovery, it was that getting clean, staying clean, and becoming a healthier better version of yourself should never be done for someone else. You had to want it for yourself, but damn if seeing Natalie’s face didn’t push you to get your shit together you weren’t sure what did.

“500,” you weren’t sure where the confidence to speak up came from, not even entirely sure what the balance in your savings account even was. Your unfocused eyes now staring directly into Natalies. “That’s my offer.” You quickly glanced around at everyone else unsure as to what they were even talking about but needing to put your stake into the game.

“Like $500..or,” your attention turned to the other woman, her voice trailing off indicating that she indeed was asking a question.

A chuckle parted your lips as you shook your head. “No, I mean 500K.” You made sure to look at each person across from you individually, instilling how serious your offer was.

“Bullshit.” The sound of Carmy’s voice startled you, sure he had been speaking this whole time but it's not like you were paying that much attention.

You scoffed, eyes rolling in tandem with the sound. “I thought you needed money Carmen,” the name slipped through clenched teeth. You turned to face Nat. Your final numbers would be decided between the two of you, “Nat?”

“100.”

“450.”

“120.”

“375.”

“200,” you hesitated for a minute. The triumphant smile on Natalie’s lips caused your eyes to narrow.

“250, or I walk.” You leaned forward hands moving to lay flat atop the table, a small smirk played on your lips. Your leverage was total shit and Nat knew that there was no way you’d walk away from this project.

“Deal.” The smile on your lips faltered as you faced Carmy again, his annoying crystal blue eyes staring daggers into you.

Clearing your throat you slumped back in your seat, hands moving back to hide inside your pockets. The meeting finished on a good note without a hitch, with the restaurant gaining an extra 250K to put toward inevitable expenses.

You quickly stood from your seat moving to escape any awkward reunion that may have sprouted between you and Carmy. The interest in meeting Carmy’s partner was pushed to the back burner as you made your way through the restaurant, looking for the one other person you wanted to speak with at the moment.

Maneuvering through the kitchen you found Tina not too far from what you remembered to be her usual station. You leaned against the wall watching her work, the effort she was putting into saving burnt and rusted pots bringing a small smile to your face. You shrugged off your jacket and slipped the scarf from around your neck.

“Need some help?” The hesitation in your voice was evident. You weren’t sure where you stood with Tina, you knew how she felt about Mikey and how much his choices affected her. The thought of relaying the past few months to her was too much for you to think about at this moment, you had time, and when you were ready you would confide in her. But for now, there was no point in ruining a much-needed reunion.

You watched as Tina jolted, not prepared to hear your voice. “Ay, dios mío!” Tina turned to you hand raised above her heart, eyes wide. “Why the fuck are you sneaking around the kitchen.” You listened to the older woman’s voice scold you before making your way in her direction.

Not giving her another second before throwing your arms around her, you probably should’ve made sure it was okay, but there was nothing like a mother’s endearing hug to let you know that everything would eventually be okay.

The two of you stood in each other’s embrace in the middle of the kitchen. Neither of you said a word as your quiet sobs began to echo off the walls. You were crying for Mikey, and for yourself, and for all the lives the both of you had ruined, whether they knew it or not.

You were apprehensive to step foot back in this establishment so soon. But it had easily shown you all the things your life would have missed out on had you not allowed Natalie to get you the help you needed.

Carmy’s head perked up as he noticed you exit the kitchen with Tina. His irritation began to rise as he laid eyes on you, Sugar had blindsided him with your arrival. He hadn’t even known you moved back to Chicago, let alone that you had any interest in getting The Bear up and running.

You looked different. His eyes immediately caught the obvious scar tracing along your jaw. The tip of it started a few centimeters below your chin before meeting your jawline and finding its end just before your ear. It was a gnarly scar and he knew for sure the amount of stitches you needed must have been painful.

Carmy was also sure you didn’t have that scar a year ago, nor the smaller one that was carved into your upper lip. He would’ve taken notice, you can’t spend 48 hours with someone and not be able to recall all the puzzle pieces that were specially made to create them.

He watched the two of you approach the group at the counter, you hanging a little farther back than probably necessary, pretending to occupy yourself with the bare walls. Carmy might’ve smiled at your awkwardness if he wasn’t so confused by your presence.

A distracted farewell to Tina left his lips as he tried not to be so obvious in his study of you. His eyes refused to meet Sugar’s as he could feel her watching him, watching you.

Sydney’s return gained his full attention, forcing himself to focus on something else other than his thoughts that were racing and full of you. The clearing of your throat as you finally made your way to stand next to Sug had all six sets of eyes focusing on you.

You didn’t just look different. From the very few interactions the two of you shared and Carmy’s constant people-watching, you seemed like an altogether new person, the confidence and surety he was used to seeing in you was dull.

“I don’t mean to impose, but I was kind of hoping I could take on a more involved role in all of this?” Carmy’s eyes squinted as your hand raised in a flourish to signify you were talking about the restaurant.

You were met with silence. Carmy was too distracted by being in your presence after a drought without you, and Sydney still hadn’t even been truly introduced to you.

“Shit, sorry.” Your hand shot out to shake the woman’s hand as the two of you introduced yourselves. Although she read your articles, mostly your profile stories highlighting various chefs, it was different to be formally introduced to the person behind the stories.

“I uh, actually read most of your articles.” Carmy watched as you brightened up a bit your writing something that would always bring you joy. “I had to cancel my subscription though.” The sound of your laugh went straight to Carmy’s heart, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the delicate sound until hearing it again in this moment.

“I actually have a proposal for you three,” you paused, making sure everyone was paying attention before continuing your explanation. “What if I highlighted the renovation? I was..uh…before,” you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath to ground yourself.

“I was profiling The Beef and Mikey before he…yeah. Um, so I was thinking I could maybe continue that with The Bear,” you stopped to make sure everyone was following along, sending Carmy a small smile before continuing. “We could profile the team, give people a behind-the-scenes look into the renovation, and who’s behind it. I would publish it, it would be great PR and might help to fill seats.”

The following silence made you feel insecure about your proposal. “Maybe just give it a thought. No pressure or anything uh just let me know if there's any interest.” Your voice trailed off as your confidence continued to plummet, Carmy’s blank eyes doing nothing to quell your nervousness.

You turned your attention back to Sugar, a silent plea to leave in your eyes. She nodded “Uh, Baby and I had plans so we’ll be heading out.” You sent the two chefs in front of you a forced smile before hurriedly returning to the kitchen to pick up your jacket and scarf you left there. Call it cowardly but slipping out through the kitchen’s back door seemed to be in your best interest.

The fresh air whipped against your face like a blade, and the immediate change in temperature helped to relax you. There would never have been a perfect time to make your return to this restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t how you things to go, but you felt an immense pressure off your shoulders.

The hard part was over, you made it through the door, walked past the remnants of Mikey every time a specific spot reminded you of him.

It wouldn’t always be like today, you knew that. Some days would be harder than others as you worked through your struggles and allowed yourself to feel the loss of Mikey. One step at a time, it was cliche but it was really how you had to live your life from now on.

Being around Carmy would continue to be hard for the time being. You had essentially watched his brother deteriorate, watched as his mind no longer became his own. And you too had almost become a victim to the whims of your drug-addled mind.

You wouldn’t force a relationship with him and would make him privy to your shortcomings when you were ready. But you told yourself you would be okay if he wanted nothing to do with you, the choices you made would not be easy to come to terms with. And if Carmen Berzatto decided he was finally done with your constant disappointment in his life, you’d just have to accept it.

The sound of Natalie’s footsteps pulled you from the labyrinth of your mind, a small smile sent her way as the two of you made your journey far from this lot of memories.

Carmen stared at the outlines they had hung along the walls, eyes following along with tasks that needed to be completed to open in six months.

He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little bummed out that Sugar returned to the restaurant without you. Any small glimpse, or interaction he could get with you he would swallow like a man starving. The chef stood there doing his best as his counterpart gushed over meeting you, doing his best not to cringe at his two worlds colliding.

Carmy wasn’t sure if he could keep it professional while you worked alongside him on the renovation. Sure you would be doing your own thing in tandem with the work that would get done. But surrounding himself with you in an already stressful time in his life and an even more stressful environment wasn’t something he was prepared for.

He let his mind wander, thoughts of what happened to you in the year since your visit drowning him. Carmy had no clue what happened after you left that night, no clue what had seemed to connect you and Sugar more than you already were.

Seeing you again made his chest hurt. Seeing you was like a hot poker being shoved through his heart, unbearably comfortable but all so warming at the same time. He wanted to know you, know what had changed you since the last time his fingers had traced your skin.

Carmy knew the two of you were nowhere near as close as you had once been. Unsure if you’d ever share a connection like your past one. But he knew while you were here, in Chicago, surrounding yourself with him, the two of you would be given equal opportunity to put this years-long game of cat and mouse to an end; it was just a matter of who bit first.

a/n: well…here we are. i know this might read like baby’s life is just gonna be sunshine and rainbows from here on out but i can promise its not. she is a deeply flawed character with a lot of shit to figure out and a half baked relationship with everyone’s favorite chef won’t fix that. i’ve been around addicts my whole life so i have an understanding of what they can be like, i want to iterate that in no way am i romanticizing addiction. my personal experiences with functioning/addicts DO NOT make me an expert on this topic in anyway, but i do use those experiences to write for baby. i’m always here if anyone needs to talk. i hope you all enjoy <3

taglist: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn @bunnysthngs @khena @kailyn-g05 @ovaqma @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder

unable to tag: @gcidrvsh @awatt31 @cauliflowerpatch

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader

read extended cut here [x]

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot). fluff and some angst! 

A/N: girlies, the whore jumped out! Takes place during episode 6 season 2. Credit to the gif creator! I hope y’all enjoy it. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head.

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times and twirling the wine glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” the lookalike chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit constantly and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit. Why Michelle skipped out of town and up to New York. Anything to keep the family an arms distance away. 

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouth pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face in mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikey shoves your panties to the side and rubs his saliva across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceasing to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you begin to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the coil inside you breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck you, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow it all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Exhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.

[miley1442111]

Carmy x Reader, I want something soft and fluffy with Carmy like he finally gets a day off and he spends it with you :)

i loveeeee this idea, it's just so sweeeettttt

day off- c.berzatto

a/n: this isn't for a fem! or male! reader but carmy does call reader 'good girl' at one point (ik, cringe but wtv), this is kinda cringey in my opinion but wtv. sorry it's kinda short too :)))))))))

summary: a day off with your boyfriend, carmen berzatto.

pairing: carmenberzatto x reader

warnings: suggestive content, fluffy and kinda cringe so I apologise for that.

It had been a terrible week. You had a huge deadline at work, you had to help your friend move apartments, and Carmen was nowhere to be seen, too busy with the Bear to be present in your relationship. Naturally, a day off was warranted. 

You woke up with the sunlight streaming in from the window, and a smile on your face. You had nothing to do today. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, and a day with Carmy. 

“Mornin’ baby,” he smiled, already awake. 

“Morning bear,” you yawned back, feeling him pull you closer with a grip on your back and your thigh. “What do you want to do today?” 

“I have a few ideas,” he smirked and pressed soft kisses against your neck as you giggled. 

“We should get up and do something,” you whined. “We never get days off together.”

“We could get up and go to the couch?” he smirked again and you hit him softly on the shoulder. “Okay! Okay,” he chuckled. “What do you want to do?” 

“We could go for a run-’

“No.”

“Carmy!” you whined again. “You never let me pick.”

“I’ll let you pick if it doesn’t involve physical exercise,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Come on, pick somethin' fun.”

“What about… Garfield park?” You offer and he groans. “Fuck off Carmy! You never want to leave the apartment when we have days off,” you laughed.

“Yeah, why would I, when I have everything I want right here?” he smirked and grabbed your waist pinning you below him. You laughed again as he kissed your neck. 

“Come on, we could go to that farmers market thing again, that was fun,” you tried as he kept kissing you, finally reaching your mouth and connecting your lips. You grinned as his lips met yours in perfect symmetry. Every now and then you wonder if you two were meant to be together, just from how perfectly you fit. “Carm-”

“We can go to the farmer’s market,” he agreed. “But when we get home-”

“I know, takeout and Monk,” You smiled. “No cooking for you, and no films for me.” 

You had made it a rule to not have Carmen cook, since he cooked all week at work, and to not let you watch any films you’d worked on, since you edited films all week. It had become a tradition to order in and watch Monk. 

“Good girl,” he smirked and you hit his chest, pushing him off you. 

“You’re weird,” you chuckled as you got up. 

“You’re the one who likes it,” he smiled and you stuck your tongue out at him. 

“Shut up,” you blushed, pulling one of his jumpers over your body.  “You smell, have a shower.”

“Wanna join me?” he cooed, walking up behind you and hugging you. 

“Nope,” you smiled, brushing your teeth. “I washed my hair last night.”

He groaned again and rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed play on whatever song was on his phone. It was soft and light, but lively enough to start the day off on a high. You danced around the bathroom as he showered, doing your skincare, then getting dressed in your bedroom. He came out of the shower and got dressed, brushed his teeth, then grabbed his keys and phone, and off you two went. 

The sun was high in the sky as you two walked towards the farmer’s market you had started frequenting in recent months. 

“How’s work?” he asked, a hand in yours as you walked the Chicago streets. Summer had come early this year, a heatwave made all of Chicago come out in dresses, shorts, and other summer wear. 

“Fine, just finished up another trailer,” you leaned into his touch and he dropped your hand to sling an arm across your shoulders, holding you closer. 

“Congratulations baby, we should do something to celebrate,” he smiled. “What do you want to do?”

“We should get the macarons from that place we like.” 

“Sounds good,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. 

“How is the Bear looking?”

He sighed. “Had to pull down some walls, Richie was being a fucking dick about it too, I just… I don’t wanna think about it today, y’know?” 

“I know Bear, I get it,” you grinned and kissed him quickly. “I’m sure you’re doing great. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You spent a few hours out at the farmer’s market, then getting groceries, then getting the macarons. Before you went home, ordered in some fancy restaurant Camry recommended, and fell asleep on the couch, in his arms. 

It was a good day. 

A great day.

[issdisgrace]

Sydney: Y/n I need you to focus

Y/n: I’m sorry Sid just look at Carmy’s ass in those pants. It’s so big and I just want to spread hi…

Sydney: No, nope I don’t need to hear that.

Y/n: Ugghh you're no fun

Cue a beet red Carmy that overheard what you said

[aestheticaltcow]

Last Updated: 05/05/2024

Teasing

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy is a tease, and you love it. MDNI 18+

Elementary School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy comes to pick you up from work while Richie teases the two of you

What Happens In Vegas Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x OC A four-part series about a past mistake both Carmy and Ellie had long forgotten about. Part 1: Those are Legal? Part 2: The Bear, Abuse of Power, and a Dick Measuring Contest Part 3: The Fight Part 4: DC in October

Family Ties

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy butts heads with his 17-year-old daughter

Father's Day

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Father's day cards covered in glitter and a surprise, what more could Carmy ask for?

High School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy didn't like high school, but he did like you, so when you asked him to come speak to this year's graduating class, how could he say no?

Food is Love

~Requested~ (forgot to give it a title) Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After the passing of your father, you have a hankering for "Daddy Soup." You can't figure out the recipe, so you enlist the help of your Michelin star boyfriend to figure it out

Slumber Party

~Requested~ Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You didn't take Carmy as a 3-in-1 guy but I guess sleeping over at his place for the first time gives you a good amount of insight on your boyfriend.

Feral

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After work fun ~ MDNI 18+

Our Future (2 Parts)

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Age gaps can be difficult. Being at two different times in your life makes the idea of the future seem impossible. Part 1: Our Future Part 2: Our Present

Social Media Manager: The Series

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Marcus's friend Rusty is intriguing and Carmy wants to get to know her better. Why not hire her to revamp The Bear's social media pages? Part 1: Introductions and Donuts Part 2: Meetings, Meetings, Meetings Part 3: Drinks?

The Carmy Blurb Playlist

A collection of Carmy blurbs inspired by songs I dig that give me Carmy vibes

A Different Point of View

Natalie Berzatto's POV on the events of Season 1

Cigarettes Multiverse (3 Parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Friends with benefits worked for you and Carmy until it didn't. Part 1: Cigarettes - Rozei Part 2: Girlfriend Treatment Part 3: Boyfriend Treatment

Six Months (5 parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Six months postpartum and six months of celibacy, is a sexually frustrated Carmy going to risk his marriage and future relationship with his daughter for a woman who smells like artificial vanilla? Part 1: Six Months Part 2: The Night It Went Wrong Part 3: The Aftermath Part 4: Two Months Part 5: Healing

Three-Three-Three

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Based on the fridge scene of the S2 finale; you help Carmy calm down when he's having a panic attack

You're un-beet-liveable

Sydney "Syd" Aduam x Male Reader (actually, it's Paul Mescal) A cute delivery guy makes Syd a little less annoyed that Carmy asked her to come in early.

Is this what you were looking for?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy has a habit of misplacing his wedding ring, so he came up with a better alternative.

The Playdate

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Tiffany asks if Richie can pick Eva up from a playdate.

Lockdowns & Ladyfingers

Chef Luca x Reader Luca is the hot neighbor, after getting the 411 from the grannies in the building; you make your move.

Our Life

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You see Carmy's sketchbook and can't help but fall more in love with him.

Love Story

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Just a sweet lil narrative of Carmy fallin' for you

Sorry?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader The story of the time you don't get off MDNI 18+

[thatone-brightstar]

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 2: Heavy is the head 'n all that

Words: 4.9k

summary: Carmy gets a visit from an old friend/ you offer Richie a fresh new start.

a/n: Hiii, i know i took my sweet time to update this but i did have some fun stuff to write for kinktober (link here! if you haven't read that) and it truly helped to regain my creativity to continue this bad boy so here ya go!

remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected, in the shower, fluff and smut, oral sex (male receiving), cock warming if you squint

Chapter 1.

Carmy’s hand holds a gentle yet firm grip on yours as you scout the various colorful stands selling all sorts of produce along the busy street. Despite the restaurant being closed for a few weeks now, the routine seemed hard to break and you had both woken up early enough to catch the market. Between coffee scented clouds and the murmur of conversation, you stroll alongside Carmen, stopping at every few booths to check out the products and take the vendors information for future deliveries. Though not buying as much as you usually would for The Beef, it felt nice to buy your groceries directly from the source. 

“So what did Marge say about Ava’s classes?” He asks in your direction, distracted by the crate of shiny tomatoes occupying the sidewalk.

“Oh, I think her words were ‘anything for your little niece, my sweet’.” You answer back in a terrible imitation of an english accent. 

“Your little niece, huh?” He adds with a smirk, taking a sip from the tea filled travel cup in his other hand.

“Alright, chill-” You reply with a similar smile. “It’s for Ava.”

You stop and let go of his hand to pick out a box of cherries and pull cash from your bag to pay. Carmy notices the bag starting to fill up and takes the handles off your shoulder, swinging it over his own and threading his fingers through yours once again. He pulls up your hand to place a warm peck on it, raising a red on your face that almost matched the cherries. 

From your point of view, the morning sun casts a brilliant glow over the baseball hat hiding his untamed  hair. Little specks of gold dance along his barely  untrimmed jaw and another blush sparks over your features as the image of you kissing his stubble pops into your head. 

“D’you think it’d be weird if I gave Richie my mom’s number?” You voice your thoughts suddenly. 

He turns to you with a puzzled expression. “And the thought came to you because…?”

You shrug and redirect your attention back to the rows of polished apples beside you. “Dunno. I just- I don’t think she’s ever gone out with anyone since well… y’know.”

Carmy nods his head slowly in a way that shows he understands and doesn’t pressure you to over explain. “And you wanna start with Richie?” He jokes instead. 

“C’mon he’s not a bad guy. And he’s not bad lookin’ either… he just needs a push.” 

A low mumble from his direction makes you turn your head and you almost don’t hear him whisper against the lid of his cup. “If you like stupid  Richie so much, why don’t you fuckin’ marry ‘em…”

You laugh at his words, joyful and warm, and shove him softly with your elbow.  “I meant, that it’d be nice to see them happy...” Your eyes wander up to him again, only to find his already darting over your face, a sweet smile set in place. “To have something like this. Don’t you think?”

Carmy lets go of your hand to throw his arm over your shoulder and pull you in even closer while another giggle blooms over your chest. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” He whispers near your ear. “Your mother’s definitely the push Richie could use.”

Once your bag is too full to keep cramming stuff in and you’ve swept the streets multiple times, you finally make your way out. There’s a tiny old lady in a small booth by the edge selling colorful bouquets that you almost don’t notice. But he does and stops beside it, quickly handing her the money with a shy smile and picking out the one with the most Carnations on it.

“Here.” He says  and leans down to peck your cheek. 

You flush and whisper a sweet ‘thank you’, cradling the delicate buds between your free hand and your chest.  Even in the cold breeze surrounding you, the heat radiating off you is enough to keep you warm all the way home.

**********

He had not known a second of peace after dropping you off at the gallery that morning. Between deep cleaning and crunching numbers with Nat, Carmy’s head felt like it was splitting in two. 

“Jesus fuck…” He mumbles, pinching tightly between his brows in hopes that it dissipates the incoming migraine. “I swear we can’t catch a fuckin’ break.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make my day either-“ She answers back sarcastically. “We’re gonna need someone to come get it tested-“

“Tested for what?” Richie interrupts, hand pointing to the same spot on the wall where the siblings are staring. 

“For fucking rabies- mold Richard,  what do you think-“

“-You’re makin a storm out of nothin’ Nat-“

“It’s not nothing, it’s mold-” 

“Mold is just a trigger word, okay-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me think.” Carmy speaks louder than intended, the sound vibrating in his skull and making him wince. 

He takes a deep breath then rises his head up again. 

“Yeah- yeah I think we’re gonna need to call someone for that. Check how much it’s gonna be?” He asks his sister, who only rolls her eyes  and nods, turning away. 

“Cousin c’mon, I can totally fix that shit-“

“Cousin-“

“-I just need some sealant and-“

“Cousin-“

“-good as fuckin’ new-“

“Richie!” He shouts and shuts his eyes at the shutter in his head. “Just… let an expert do it, alright?”

He watches as his cousin opens his mouth to respond, then instead closes it and raises his hands in surrender, muttering a soft ‘alright, fine.’ 

“Oh, that reminds me, I gotta go pick up Ava and drop her at your girl’s class. Need anythin’ while I’m gone?” 

Carmy shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once again, a habit often repeated and confirmed by the tender ache on his nose bridge. “No, we’re good. Still can’t do much without the fuckin’ permits.” He mutters back.

“ Did Jimmy get back to you on that?”

“Not since you asked this morning…” His voice sounds irritated, but it has more to do with the pulsing in his head. 

Richie only nods and despite wanting to, doesn’t keep pushing it. He instead only throws a ‘call me if you need anythin’ and quickly exits through the patched up front door, washing Carmy in yellow afternoon rays before it quickly closes and he's back to the fluorescent blue.

With the silence of the empty restaurant, he allows himself a second to breathe, even falling heavily on one of the few dust covered stools that haven’t been taken down to storage yet. Carmy pulls a cigarette from the fresh package in his back pocket and lights it, taking a deep drag that instantly numbs out the start of a headache. While he takes another deep drag, he pulls out his phone where your text sits under a reminder to ‘call the fucking fridge guy, carmy <3’ from his sister. 

There’s another rattle from the door and he rolls his eyes, typical of his cousin to forget something when he was probably too far away to come back, so he doesn’t even bother to turn around. Instead he presses the call button and waits, leg shaking impatiently over the footrest and camouflaging the steps moving closer to him. 

“Hey…” He hears once the call sends him to voicemail and the delicate tube in his hand almost breaks at the filter. The familiar voice crashes over his back and drowns him instantly in freezing water. “...I’m looking for a Ms. Carmen Berzatto?”

**********

For the first time in weeks, the gallery finally seemed to fall into its usual serene pace. Winter vacation was over and your classes had begun filling up again- with children retelling the tales of the places they visited while out of the city. Marjorie had informed you that morning that word of mouth had followed its course since the charity event and six more kids would be joining you in a few days, and now you had more easels to put together before the weekend.

The small plastic screw falls off your hand for the second time and you groan up to the ceiling before picking it up. The easels came with too many small pieces to count and the fact that you still had four more to finish in the back, did not help with the overall mood. As you place the screw back into the little hole and press the screwdriver against the head, it pops to the side and goes bouncing off out of your view.

While you crouch down and pull your hair back to try and see if it’s anywhere close, the entrance bell signals a new arrival, and the excited steps that follow have you straightening back up. ‘Is it five o'clock already?’ you think and instinctively run your hands down the paint hardened apron, as if that’ll make it seem more presentable. A relaxed breath calms you down at the familiar sound of Richie’s voice calling you from the front.

“Back here!” You call out and begin to group up all the scattered screws you can find for a day where each piece won’t make you want to cry.

“There’s our Michelangelo!” He belts out as soon as he spots you, extending one long arm to his side, while the other is taken hostage by a small little thing cradling a Bluey backpack. 

Once he’s close enough, the extended arm hooks over your shoulders and pulls you to his chest, placing a chaste kiss over your hair. ‘okay-’ is all you can say and push him away  lightly once he’s already letting you go.

“Again- thank you for this-” Richie groans slightly while carefully placing Ava on the floor in front of him, his hands on her shoulders swallowing up her small frame. “She promised to be on her bestest behavior, right Ava?” She nods shyly.

It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before. He’s being tender and kind, and has spoken more than five words without wedging a single ‘fuck’ into the sentence. You can say you’re impressed, though the feeling soon turns sour- like the many times you’ve been a spectator to a loving father/ daughter duo. Richie’s rubbing his thumb softly over her cherry cheeks and even though it’s a simple action that shouldn’t arise anything, the uncomfortable knot in your throat still takes its place. 

From his kneeled position, he can see the various pieces of chunky plastic laying astray and he signals with his head in its direction. 

“New exhibition or somethin’?” 

You clear your throat quickly and wipe the beginning of your sweaty palms on the back of your shirt, embarrassed that you may have been caught staring.

“Uh, no actually. Just some fuc-un-” You correct yourself instantly when your eyes flicker to the small child. “-some fun easels I have to assemble for the new kids.”

“Let me help you-” He’s quick on his feet, already picking up the screwdriver before you get a chance to decline.

“No, leave it- it’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow… plus, don’t you have to head back to The Beef?”

He only shrugs and takes off his jacket, then begins to count the number of holes on the plastic and pulls out the same number of screws.

“Can’t do much without permits. And you look like you could use the help.”

You crack your locked knuckles as you watch him work, still considering rejecting the offer. But he joins together more pieces in those ten minutes than you have in half an hour, and who are you to reject a man searching for purpose? Instead, you take Ava’s bag from her and lead her to one of the newer stations before the rest of the kids arrive.

“Thank you.” You offer with a small smile in his direction, right before the bell rings again and more hurried footsteps echo in your direction. 

“If you’re still feeling charitable, there’s four more in the back-” You add in a hurry and shrug apologetically at the stunned look over his face. “You offered to help…”

Richie ended up staying through the whole lesson. Wandering every few minutes behind his daughter’s station, arms folded with the screwdriver still in hand and contemplating the canvas like the world’s most respected critic. It took him the whole hour and a half to finish assembling all the easels and only had plastic wrap to pick up by the time the last kid left. 

Ava sat happy in your rolling chair, sugar-free cookie crumbs sprinkled around her face and paint stained fingers.

“Isn’t that shit toxic?” Richie asks through a concerned face as he bent down to pick up the last of the trash.

You also turn in her direction and shrug, cleaning your own hands with a rag. “Not really, we buy non-toxic for finger painting. It was easier than asking them to stop licking it off…” He only nods at your response- but not fully convinced- sends Ava to wash her hands a second time.

“Thanks again for the help.” You call out with a nod in his direction, then bite your lip. 

You don’t know what to say or how to bring it up, only left staring at him as your mouth opens and closes, popping the bubble wrap in your hands. “Hey, Richie?” 

He turns, brows raised. ‘There’s no turning back now’.

“Have you tried uh… y’know, dating after Ava’s mom?”

“Listen kid, you know I love ya, but Carmy’s family and-” You roll your eyes and throw the trash in his direction, barely missing his head.

“Not like that, dumbass!” You scold with an amused smile. “I just thought- god this is so fuckin’ weird- here.”

Richie’s expression is puzzled, eyes darting between the contents of your outstretched hand and your own flushed face. He reaches towards it and when he finally takes it, your hand retrieves back to your body and crosses over your chest.

“And this is…?”

“It’s my mother’s number… I know you kinda got a thing for her.” You wave your hand in the air when it looks like he’s about to contradict your statement. “C’mon dude, I have eyes, ‘kay? ’m not blind. A bit grossed out, but not blind.” You admit the last part only to yourself.

The silence breaks with the sound of soft steps on the stairs and an enthusiastic rendition of ‘shake it off’. Richie folds the small paper and buries it securely in his jacket pocket, clearing his throat in the process.

“She likes white wine but not the sweet kind, salsa- both food and the dance- and don’t even mention Celia Cruz or she’ll never shut up about her.” You rush through as the little steps move closer to the back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, then a slight grin forms over his face. “So does that make me your dad now?” He teases and you groan, rolling your eyes for the third time in less than two hours.

 “Don’t make me regret it- and don’t make it weirder, okay?!”

Your phone rings from inside the apron before he has a chance to bicker back and a smile grows on your face at the caller ID. 

“Hey Carm, ready for later?” You turn away from Richie, who cleans the crumbs off Ava’s face before swinging her bag over his shoulder and waving goodbye.

There’s a few silent seconds on the other line, then a heavy sigh travels through the phone and perches over your chest. “Uh, yeah about that…”

“Oh no…” You interrupt before he even has the chance to explain.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry-” He begins and you can hear the shuffling on the other side. You can almost picture him running his hand through his already messy hair and staring up at the ceiling as if he’ll find all of life’s answers there. “I’ll explain at home but right now I gotta stay later.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just reschedule and see if they can show us the place another day.” Your voice sounds reassuring, though all that’s running through your head is the lightweight promise he made a few days back.

“Yes-okay, great.” Carmy answers rushed, not catching the slight disappointment in your tone. “This is turning out way more difficult than I thought.” He mumbles against the mic.

“Well, y'know ‘heavy is the head’ ‘n all that.” Your smile grows nervous as you try lightening the mood but only a distracted half sigh, half laugh follows a second later.

He clears his throat and rushes through his words again. “Listen, don’t make dinner. I’ll buy us somethin’ on the way home, okay?”

“Yeah, sure… see you at home.” 

**********

The train ride home bombards your thoughts with a little guilt. You couldn’t help the slight disappointment ringing in your ears from the failed promise. Then you remember how hard he’s been working lately- or since you’ve known him really- and you feel foolish for letting such a small thing get to you. 

So once you arrive home, instead of dinner, you round up the few candles you brought with you and place them strategically around the small bathroom. Then you do your best to scrub the paint out from under your fingernails and strip into nothing but the soft fluffy blue robe he gave you on Christmas. Once you see the short ‘omw’ text, you begin to light the candles, praying they won’t burn the place down, and entertain yourself by arranging the Carnations from that morning in a little vase you made at the gallery. ‘I should give it a friend’ 

The muffled jingle of keys cuts your train of thought short, followed by his footsteps and a heavy sigh once he shuts the door and takes his coat off.

“Babe?” 

“In the kitchen!” You call back and bite your lip in anticipation, quickly rearranging the robe so your collarbone is a little more exposed.

“What? No- I brought dinner…” His tone dies down once he spots you around the corner, take out bag weighing down from his outstretched arm.

“‘M not making dinner.” You answer with a soft smile and keep your attention on the flowers sitting beside you on the counter. 

His gaze shamelessly runs along your bare legs, crossed in a way that exposes all the way up to your upper thigh but no more than that. You take your time to finish trimming the rest of the stems, then push the vase to the side and swing your legs to hop off the counter. The movement seems absolutely graceful to him and he can’t do anything but lean against the wall to regain his balance as you move closer to him.

You hold on to the sides of his torso and stand up on your toes to kiss his lips sweetly. You wanted it to be a quick teasing kiss, but his hand wraps around your back immediately and presses your chests together. He sighs against your mouth, the ‘thump’ of the bag hitting the floor vibrates in the room and soon both his arms circle you close. 

Your hands cling to his broad shoulders and your toes drag along the floor as he lifts you lightly and moves deeper into the room. The simple movement makes your head swoon with  love.

“...missed you.” He mumbles between kisses down your cheek and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing again.

“Hard day?”

He only nods, too occupied with the kisses he leaves on your exposed skin. You place another on his hair and peel yourself away slowly, hands still tight over his. 

“C’mon.” You whisper and nod deeper into the apartment.

His brow creases with questions he doesn’t ask, instead following behind you silently into the room. The usual white tiles glow yellow with the tiny dancing flames, Carmy’s eyes instantly catch on to the flickering shadows and take his breath away. When you turn to him, his eyes are wide and soft, with the small specks of the candle wicks glistening inside them. Your hand lets go of his to run a tender finger over a smudge on his cheek, while the other begins to undo the knot on your robe.

He’s motionless. The only sign of movements come from the slight bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes constantly drag down to your chest before he pulls them back up. 

“I wanna help you relax…” Your voice is sweet, barely above a whisper and drowned out by the sound of the soft fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet. “Can I?” 

All he can do is nod, transfixed by the way your tan skin glows almost golden in the flickering lights. He lets you pull the white shirt over his head, then while he finishes undressing, you turn the water on and watch as the steam starts invading the empty space. Carmy’s hands caress the sides of your hips and little kisses spark the goosebumps on your shoulder, but once you’re both fully inside, you wiggle away from his touch and turn to face him again.

“I’m taking care of you.” You repeat, and grab his biceps to push him deeper into the streaming water.

You let it fall over his head until the locks grow a shade darker and most of them lose their bounce, then you turn the water down and reach for your scented shampoo.

“Turn ‘around for me?.” You request while you lather the soap on your hands.

Carmy rolls his eyes and gives you a toothy grin, but obliges anyway. You can see his shoulders instantly relax as your fingers tread through the curls, nails raking gently over his scalp in a rhythmic motion that has his neck losing a hold of his head and tipping it towards the cold tile. A smug smile covers your face, wet strands of hair decorating your cheeks, and you even make an effort to continue the gentle movements even after the bubbles have disappeared.

Instead of washing it away, you bring the massage down to his neck, thumbs pressing insistently over the numerous knots you find on your way down. He’s no different than the clay you’ve been experimenting with at work, you offer him as much tenderness and dedication as you would any other work of art.

The soft sounds of his breathing mix with the thin stream of water rushing over your bodies. You didn’t even notice how close you’ve moved to him until your breath bounces back to your cheeks. You take the chance to place little wet kisses along his spine as your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and the shudder he breathes out makes the taste of shampoo on your lips completely worth it. You press them to his warm skin again and again as your hands work down his spine and to the pretty dimples decorating the bottom of it. 

By the time your movements have ceased, both of your breathing is struggling with need.

You use the last bit of control in your voice to call his name. “Carmy…” It’s almost silent, but the plea in your tone is enough to make him turn to you.

The sight of his blown out pupils and the way his hair darkens his face is enough to make you come on the spot. Without hesitation, you gently drape your arms over his puffing chest, raking your nails over it as you pepper kisses in a messy line down. Your knees fall over the tile with a soft slap that resonates in the quiet room.

“Fuck-” Carmen blows out, eyes fixated on how fucking good you look on your knees for him. 

Your need is too strong to tease him, instead you take his already hard cock in your hand and start giving it a few soft pumps without losing his stare. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” You ask again in a sultry voice. The water droplets have accumulated over your lashes and your wet hair cascades over your shoulders, making you look ethereal in Carmy’s eyes and all he can do is nod and sigh when you kiss the tip.

His hand flies up to grip the slick tiles when you finally wrap your lips around his girth and take him fully into your mouth. The rhythm is slow and torturous as you pull moan after groan from the depths of his chest, until he grows too impatient and his hips begin to buck forward into your mouth.

“That’s it baby, that’s it… oh fuck.” Carmy whispers words of encouragement that travel straight to your aching pussy. He groans into the side of his extended arm, but only for a short second, because he can’t dare to take his eyes off you any longer than that.

Each sound he makes pushes your movements faster and each slurp and drag of your tongue makes him groan even deeper, it’s a vicious cycle of obscene sounds that neither of you want to break. Through hooded eyes, he spots your other hand dragging into the inside of your parted thighs and he thinks he might come just from that alone. 

With a few more bobs of your head, you pull him out with a soft ‘pop’ and he takes the chance to catch his breath, before leaning down, hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you up to him in one swift motion.

In a second, your feet are up and off the floor and the cold contrast of the tiles on your hot back brings chills over your excited skin. He latches onto your lips in seconds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Your legs circle his hips with strength as he rubs his stiff erection between your thighs.

“You like sucking my cock, huh?” He whispers in a shaky breath while his hips grind incessantly over your slick cunt. “Look how fuckin’ wet you got. You gonna let me take care of you now, baby?”

He pulls his hand from your face and readjusts his arms around your thighs so he has a better grip on you, but doesn’t slip in yet. Instead he drags the length along your folds and watches you whine and squirm with want between his arms.

“Yes, Bear, take care of me please. I need you.” His cock jolts at your words and the neediness behind them is enough teasing for him.

He slips right in, like coming home, and wastes no time in pulling back out to set a rapid pattern that has your breasts bouncing in his face. Carmy buries his mouth by your neck, dragging his teeth down to your chest and back up, leaving crescent shaped bruises that you’ll probably have to cover with makeup tomorrow. Right now though, he doesn’t care, he’s proud of them and how they represent that you’re truly and wholeheartedly his.

“You’re fuck-ing me so good.” A string of mewls falls from your lips at the mixture of sensations and your nails dig firmly into his shoulders to help ground you back. 

But Carmy’s hips snap up continuously to a spot he’s learnt you like, making your head fall heavy over his shoulders. You’re gasping for air with each stroke and drag of his cock, unable to regain strength in your neck to look up at his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He whispers near your ear, erupting shivers along the skin his breath caresses as he continues railing into you. “And you’re takin’ me like such a good girl.” His movements are too fast for you to keep up with your hips, so all you do is take it, and happily so.

“C’mon baby, come f’me yeah?” 

You’re too high to listen to his words, but your body reacts on command as the tension in your navel snaps and a guttural moan rips your throat open. Carmy follows close behind you, groaning into the side of your neck and pressing you impossible closer to his heaving chest.

As the bliss dissipates into tiny waves, you reach up to his clean locks. He answers back with another soft kiss.

“Can we stay like this?” He asks timidly into your skin. 

You smile at the sudden softness and reach down to fully turn the water off. “Don’t you wanna finish showering first? or… pull out?”

Carmy answers with a soft ‘no.’. You expect him to let you down so you can both dry yourselves at least, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses you securely to his chest again and makes his way out of the shower. 

You squeal and press your thighs hard around his own when he leans down to blow out the candles, one by one, in fear that he may drop you. A relaxed laugh vibrates in his chest and joins your nervous giggle as he manages the task flawlessly.

“See, I got you.” He says with a proud smile- one that crinkles the sides of his eyes and makes him look boyish and carefree- as he carries you to the warm bed.

‘I know you do' You think to yourself all night, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78 and that's it lmao

[nolita-fairytale]

nolita fairytale's masterlist

currently writing for: young!sirius black (harry potter) | carmen 'carmy' berzatto (the bear) | billy russo (the punisher) | bradley 'rooster' bradshaw & phoenix x hangman (top gun: maverick)

[banner by @allthefandomstogether]

the bear:

carmen 'carmy' berzatto / the bear

includes the entire 'make my heart surrender' universe in chronological reading order & works unrelated to 'make my heart surrender.' three full-length series, multiple oneshots, blurbs, & headcanons. all are carmy x fem!reader.

NOW also includes other works i've written that live in the world of the bear. (marcus blurb & syd x male!oc fic)

pastry chef luca

includes headcanons & my new series, 'burn your life down.' luca x fem!reader

top gun maverick:

call sign: tennessee whiskey (bradley bradshaw x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix)

natasha 'phoenix' trace has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

sirius black

remote island au (headcanon series: young!sirius black x fem!reader)

au headcanons where you and young!sirius black flee the country to live on a remote island in the mediterranean while raising baby harry.

nolita fairytale's follower celebration archive

august 2023

[superhoeva]

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

next chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

⬩ pairing(s) sebastian "sebby" garvey (original male character) x musician!reader, carmen "carmy" berzatto x musician!reader, (brief) luca davies-bernardi x musician!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, toxic/emotionally abusive relationship, sad girl!reader (but it's okay bc it's gonna get better!), nervous!carmen, a hint of the crush on your professor trope, basically everything that comes with being a self-doubting music student, anxiety, mention of injury (burn), mean boyfriend alert :(

⬩ author's note super excited to post this. it's been in the works since july! special special thank you to my loves @nolita-fairytale and @arctvrvs! they've been down in the weeds with me as this story materialized, and should basically be seen as betas considering how much i was able to lean on them while creating this story. this one is near and dear to my heart, and i hope you all enjoy as much as i do writing it. a lot more to come, so stay tuned!

⬩ word count 4.7k

A stage is a hard thing to command. That fact is one of the first things you learn when stepping onto it. Just the sheer act of pretending like one is comfortable with doing so takes hours of preparation; late nights full of callous skin and cramping muscles; dry eyes from staring at the same two measures, listening to the same four beats; and more dedication than one ever thinks one can give.

But it is wonderful. And, God, does it make you feel alive.

That feeling one gets from knowing that you hold the attention of the entire room. The action of creating a sound or movement big enough to reach the very back wall of the recital hall. To reach and affect the furthest person in the furthest seat.

However, tonight is not your night to conquer those feats or enjoy that attention. Instead, you get to act as a member of the audience, residing in a plush seat near the very front of the stage. It’s a little uncomfortable, but the way Sebastian glides his bow across the strings of his violin more than makes up for it. He makes it look effortless, but you know it’s anything but.

No one can look away from where Seb stands at the left of the conductor. His movements are seamless–suave and mesmerizing. His playing even more so, the quiver of his vibrato touching enough to make Hilary Hahn shed a tear or two. Full of character yet seeped in control, it causes you to look at him like he hangs the stars.

You don’t even glance down to reposition the bouquet of red petunias in your lap. Tonight is Sebastian’s night, and nothing will stop you from catching every single note of the first movement of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor Op. 64. The piece ends with a high-energy tutti–every performer’s sound becoming one–and you’re the first one on your feet after the conductor cuts off the final note.

The rest of the room joins in your standing and clapping, several whistles of admiration filtering from the crowd to the stage. Sebastian, his smile as wide as it’ll ever get, takes his bow.

The roar of applause grows a little louder. Your hands hurt from clapping, but you can’t care.

It was wonderful. He’s wonderful.

A small grin tugs at your lips at the sight of Sebastian turning to shake hands with Abeni–the Concertmaster and one of your fellow classmates–and Dr. Hansen–the conductor and highly respected orchestral music professor. Your smile blossoms further when the entire orchestra (which mostly consists of orchestral performance majors) takes a final bow. The relief visibly lifts off his shoulders, into the air of the concert hall, and blankets right over you.

Although it squeezes and tenses most of your muscles, you’re able to keep a pleasant, proud expression. Smile unfaltering. Clap never breaking in rhythm. It takes you absolutely no effort to fake the dread pooling inside your stomach. You’ve gotten quite good at it, actually.

How’s the saying go? Practice makes perfect.

.・゜゜・

Sebastian’s been a magnet as long as you’ve known him. He easily attracts anyone within the near vicinity. Now is no different as everyone from professors to members of the orchestra surround and congratulate him. You stand and wait patiently a few feet away as Sebastian jokes with the principal cellist, Kenny, with light eyes. Your usual place, but you don’t mind it.

It isn’t until Kenny points you out to Sebastian that he turns to you. Face brighter than the sun, you drag your gaze over the suit you helped him pick out for tonight. He’s already loosened his tie and undone the top two buttons. And taken off his suit jacket, which you suspect is bunched up somewhere backstage. You’ll have to remind him to hang it up properly tonight. So it doesn’t wrinkle. Flicking your eyes back up, you’re heart speeds at the way he steps over toward you.

“That was amazing, Sebby,” you breathe out after traveling over, hand reaching to settle a hand on his cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Sebastian sends you a half smile. His hand reaches for yours. He gives it a small squeeze before letting it drop.

“Thank you, darling,” he rushes out, pressing an even faster kiss on your forehead. “Go fetch my things, yeah? Can’t be late to my own get-together.”

You blink and clutch the bouquet. He doesn’t even glance at the flowers before departing with an arm around Kenny, laughing to him and a few others about how close he was to fucking up a  measure in the middle of his first piece. You blink again. Bite the skin inside your cheek.

“Okay, yeah.”

Your attempt at an answer reaches nowhere near his ears and ends up trailing off into nothing.

It takes you all of ten minutes to gather Sebby’s belongings–both his violin cases, suit jacket, and music binder. The bouquet and your purse are still in your grasp as well, and you’re certain you look something foolish as you struggle toward the building’s exit. Balancing his items along with your own proves to be just as difficult as it sounds. You bumble and nearly drop one of the cases, but what makes your chest jump is the unexpected call of your name. A sigh of relief leaves you when you turn and see a familiar pair of warm, brown eyes.

Dr. Henry Solano. Department Chair of Composition at the Royal Danish Academy of Music. Your trusted advisor. And the only reason you haven’t gone completely insane during your recital preparation.

“Need some help?” It sounds like a question, but he’s already over and lifting the violin cases out of your hands with a knowing grin before you can answer. You give him a small thank you and sheepish expression. He nods at you and holds open the door. It isn’t until both of you are outside and several steps away from the building that Henry clears his throat.

“While I wanna ask what kind of guy leaves his girlfriend to carry all his shit, I think my time would be better spent asking you about how you think your recital prep is going.”

You sigh. “He’s just inside saying goodbye to a few people. And it’s going good, I’m actually really excited.”

There’s a wobble in your answer that you hope Henry doesn’t notice.

“But?”

The single word pulls another sigh from you.

“...I’m really fucking nervous,” you release with a laugh and Henry has to chuckle alongside you. “Probably more nervous than excited, if I’m being honest.”

“If it makes you feel any better, what we went over a few days ago sounded great,” Henry tells you. “You might not think you’re ready, but I know you are. Wouldn’t let the program happen if you weren’t.”

Something in his voice allows you to breathe easily. For now, at least. His deep, steady tone has been a sense of comfort, a place of ease ever since you moved to the City of Spires. He’s always been there, whether your problems have to do with a tricky rhythmic passage or with your family back at home.

“This is you, right?”

You nod as Henry points out your nearby… something. You don’t bother to remember the name of the make and model. It’s somewhere on the registration papers stuffed in the glove compartment.

“Yep,” you tell him, fishing the keys out of your pocket and popping the trunk. “I really appreciate it, Prof.”

Henry shakes his head as he slides the violin cases into the vehicle. He even grabs Seb’s suit jacket and binder, placing them neatly in the back before shutting the trunk.

“It’s no problem, hun” he promises and you can tell he means it. “And I was serious about what I said earlier. You’re gonna kill it. I’m certain.”

A warm feeling blossoms throughout your chest. You bite the inside of your cheek and glance down at the flowers still in your grasp. Before you can even realize what you’re doing, you hold out the bouquet with a small smile.

“Here. As a thank you.”

Henry huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. He purses his lips, eyes softening at your action.

“No, I couldn’t–”

“I insist,” you nod, pushing them closer to the now bashful professor. “As an extra thank you. Not just for this, but the entire semester. And the four others before that.”

Henry sighs at your words, staring at you. Then the flowers. Then back at you. Finally, he takes them delicately, and your face brightens in victory. It’s the least you could do.

“Thank you.”

His words are quiet but moving. He observes the flowers with a meaningful intention and you blink when he carefully removes one from the bouquet and hands it back to you. It takes everything inside you to force away the wave of wetness that wants to pool at your eyes.

You grab the single petunia, so bright and red, and take a moment to treasure how pretty it is.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Three, right?”

A nod from Henry.

“Uh-huh. And do me a favor and don’t look at any of the music until tomorrow evening at the latest. Give your brain a little break.” He wants to laugh at the way your eyebrows pinch together but doesn’t. “I’m serious. Don’t need you overanalyzing shit this close to the performance.”

A breath blows from your lips and you lull your head to the side. Well, there go your plans for tomorrow morning.

“Fine.”

“Good,” Henry winks with a kind hand on your shoulder. “See you Monday.”

With that, he’s gone. Whisking himself away further into the parking lot and making sure to hold his gift from you upright. You nibble at your bottom lip, looking back at your flower. Raising it, it just about reaches your nose. Only a hint of sweetness meets your nose before a loud hoot cuts through the silence, startling you.

The flower drops from your hands, onto the hard cement beneath you. You hurry to try and pick it back up but the flash of a familiar face prevents you from doing so.

“There you are, come on!”

A sloppy kiss presses into your cheek and you just barely conceal a frown at the unpleasantly wet feeling it leaves behind. You’re suddenly surrounded by a rowdy group of Kenny, Emil, Lars, and Seb. The latter with a heavy hand around your arm as he pulls you to the driver’s seat of the car.

“Need you to drive. You’re the only one who knows the way to Anya’s place from here.”

You know for a fact that that’s not true, but Sebastian shoves the keys in your hand before you can remind him. You’re promptly shuffled into the driver’s seat, Lars who called shotgun settling in next to you. Through the rearview mirror, you see your boyfriend, Emil, and Kenny clamber into the back seat.

The four young men continue their hollers as you pull out of the parking space. You drive as they talk loudly, slapping the seats, full of post-performance adrenaline. There’s an attempt from you to laugh and joke along, but the flower from Henry sitting sad back on the pavement clouds your mind in a haze that lasts all the way to your destination.

.・゜゜・

Carmen’s head hurts. He’s been staring at the table of scribbles and drawings of potential dishes for hours now, and his head hurts. Nothing is working. Flavors are clashing and the color isn’t right.

“Fuck,” he spits out quietly, eyes reaching up to rub his eyes painfully hard. Nothing is fucking working. What the hell are these flavors? And don’t even get him started on the colors.

He carelessly drops his pencil, letting it bounce against the table and onto the floor. It falls next to the other seven he’s chucked down there. Fingers running through his greasy hair, Carmen sniffs. Break. He needs a break.

Luca is already out on the balcony, halfway done with his cigarette. A nasty habit he’d picked up under the stress of the kitchen, but he’s young. He can quit later.

Carmen doesn’t have to say a word as Luca plucks a smoke from his own pack and hands it to him. Carmen lights his cigarette with familiar ease, the action feeling automatic after all this time. He finds himself grateful when the gracious silence continues, yet his thankfulness leaves him at record speed when Luca rumbles out a quiet, “Still working on recipes?”

A wordless nod from Carmen pushed a mixture of smoke and a light laugh from Luca’s lips.

“You need a break, Carm.”

“I am taking a break. Right here, with you.”

“A real one–one that has nothing to do with making sure the colors on your plate match. You need to get outta the apartment. Get somewhere where I’m not the only person you see.”

It’s Carmen’s turn to laugh, and it’s almost bitter. “You’re the only person I like.”

Luca pauses at the words, a small smile decorating the drag he inhales.

“I’m flattered, mate. Really. Still taking you out tonight, though.”

Carmen’s eyebrows furrow almost painfully. He shakes his head and almost chokes at the smoke he let sit in his lungs for too long.

“I don’t wanna go to a party.”

“It’s not a party,” Luca clarifies, looking away from the currently calm sidewalk that lies nicely in front of their apartment and at Carmen. “Just something a friend of a friend invited me to. Some gathering at someone’s place over in Vanløse–”

Carmen’s speaking before he means to, his voice pinched in a whine.

“–I don’t wanna fuckin’ go.”

Luca stops, a look cutting over to the Berzatto with expertly subdued annoyance. God, he hates it when Carmen gets like this. Pissy and borderline rude and completely consumed in something he doesn’t need to be. He stares for one more moment, just to make Carmen feel it a bit, before smashing out his cigarette in the ashtray to his right. He’s turning to head back inside when a low sorry halts him.

“Sorry,” Carmen whispers out again. He searches helplessly for something else to say, eyes trailing down to Luca’s sneakers. Forest Green Campus 00s. Adidas. The pair Luca’s been looking forward to since the announcement of their return two months ago. “They look good.”

Luca follows Carmen’s gaze and has to bite back a proud smile. “...Thanks. Picked them up this morning. You know, I’ve still got an in with the guy, might be able to get you a pair. Whatever color.”

A slow nod bobs Carmen’s head. He turns back to the city, a long cloud of smoke streaming from his lips. “Maybe… maybe.”

As Luca turns to resume his journey back to the flat’s living room, one last mumble catches just inside his ear. 

“I’ll go.”

The pastry chef grins to himself, sliding open the balcony door and leaving Carmen alone in the kind Copenhagen air of late afternoon. Carmen spills a heavy sigh. Only now does he remember the burn on his hand from yesterday’s mishap in the kitchen, still sore and fresh.

He really should patch that up.

.・゜゜・

Sebastian, Lars, Emil, and Kenny are tumbling out of the car before you pull it to a full stop. The quiet it brings doesn’t allow it to irritate you. If anything, you’re grateful for the lack of whatever the hell the four of them were rambling about on the drive over.

You take your time getting out of the vehicle, triple-checking to make sure it’s locked before falling into line behind the guys. They knock on Arya’s front food an obnoxious amount of times, and you can already imagine the look on her face when she swings it open.

“It’s open, you idiots,” Arya groans out as soon as she pulls open the door. Lars giggles childishly, and you feel a hand grab at your wrist. Seb. He yanks you into his side as he enters behind Kenny, Lars, and Emil.

Arya looks right past all of them, cementing her gaze onto you. She tugs you away from Seb, gently, squeezing a warm hug around you.

“Hi, love,” she breathes out over the already commotion of the music and guests in the other rooms.

When she breaks away, something inside you needs you to turn to Sebastian. Does he need anything? A snack? Drink? Drink, he definitely needs a drink after an already long evening of sonatas and concertos.

Arya can feel you thinking, the strain of the gears in your head bleeding out of you clear as day. She flicks her eyes to Sebastian, who’s already accompanying Emil to another room. Before you can turn any further, Arya links an arm with yours and guides you down the hall to your left.

“Wait, but,” you try, but she shushes you. “Arya…”

She tuts you one last time, shuffling you towards a closed door. She flicks it open, and you’re both inside before you get the chance to blink.

Arya’s bedroom.

A collage of old polaroids you watched her take on the pier of Svanemølle Beach is still taped to the side of her queen bed. The one you spent laying on for most of last summer, as you cried over the problems that attempted to follow you over the Atlantic. All the while Arya helps you through your tears with delicate hands and comforting whispers.

You smile at the fairy lights she has hung in the corner of the room. They’re just as warm as you remember.

“How’s work going?”

Arya lets out a sigh but smiles. She’s been working as a music teacher at a nearby primary school for the past several months–teaching children the more simple concepts of music theory. Arya had been in her last year of Music Education when you arrived on campus as a wide-eyed, shaky freshman. You’ve been under her wing ever since, staying close and growing closer as the two of you watched each other learn and age through womanhood. Shoulder by shoulder. Step by step. In many ways, she reminded you of your older sister. The nice one.

You wonder how she’s doing.

“It’s actually going really great,” she grins with something warm. “My co-workers are nice and the kids are sweethearts. I’m especially excited for when Christmas comes around. Hearing them sing those little carols I have planned for their holiday recital is going to have everyone melting. Oh! Speaking of recitals, how’s your prep going? Are you ready?”

A thick bile threatens to rise up your throat.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

Arya squints her eyes with crossed arms and pursed lips. She thinks for a moment.

“Okay, fine. How’s the man-child?”

“...Can we talk about something else, please–”

Arya stops you with a scoff. “I just really don’t get it, darling. You deserve so much better than that. I mean, i’s why I dragged you away so quickly. So you couldn’t dote over him like he’s your kid.”

“I don’t dote on him,” you clarify, and the bile rises a little higher. “I just like to take care of him.”

Another sigh from Arya. This one’s longer and extra heavy. She just stares at you for a moment before stepping over and pressing a kiss into your forehead.

“Gotta go make sure Eli’s not fucking up anything, you know how he can get. Stay in here as long as you want, ‘kay?”

With that, Arya heads for the door. You don’t catch the sympathetic look she throws back to you before trekking down the hall, the clunk of her thick platform boots falling into a quiet nothing.

She got the job right out of graduation, which neither of you could believe. Yet you still celebrated the offer with plenty of fruit wine with a name on the label you don’t dare try to pronounce.

A burn heats your eyes. Snapping them shut, your fists clench. You feel as though you’re ten years old all over again. Standing in your room back home. Legs ratting. Little heart sore and broken.

Get over it a horribly familiar voice sneers inside your head, echoing with a darkness you still struggle to find yourself in. Get over it.

Your recovery happens in record time. It’s as though you blinked and you’re walking into the front room with a drink for Sebastian held safe in your hands. A simple plastic cup with an even simpler party punch mix that was made concocted by Arya a little while ago.

You make it to Sebastian, who’s busy chatting amongst a group of familiar faces. Lars and Kenny next to him, the two of them messily laughing and talking over one another. Lux across from them, to Sebastian’s right, giving an impressive attempt at trying to follow along the several spillages of words tumbling out around her.

A few others you recognize from campus are there, too, but your eyes gravitate towards Sebastian. Your hand is soft and careful as you graze it across his shoulder. The expression on his face when he turns to meet your eyes drops your stomach a little, but you smile through it.

“Hi, Sebby. Brought you a drink.”

He waves you off. The flick of a grin crosses his face, but it’s rude and dismissive. You swallow and try again.

“It’s just the stuff Rya made,” you mumble out quietly, not wanting to attract any extra attention. Sebastian cuts his eyes to you, fingers wiggling in a silent order for you to knock it off. Something inside you makes you try one more time. “You sure, baby?”

A gasp tightens your chest once Seb finally turns around, placing a grip on your waist and jerking you toward him. His other arm circles around you as his lips press up against your ear. There’s a tight smile on his face, and you have to balance the drink to keep him from sloshing onto the back of his shirt.

A squeeze on your hips.

“Can you just fuck the hell off, baby? Please?”

Sebastian pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. His smile is still plastered across his face, something vile behind it. You blink and tip the corners of your mouth upwards. A stiff nod finally allows him to let you go. You keep smiling as he returns to the group, jumping back into the conversations with a sickening ease.

Your eyes dance around the room, and you feel so hot. Glancing down into the cup, your legs haul your body back to the sink in the kitchen. You don’t remember to blink as you dump the liquid down the drain. The rest of the world grows mute around you for what feels like hours.

.・゜゜・

Carmen found that it’s a lot easier to do things when Luca’s around. Too bad he’s back somewhere in another part of the house Carmen can’t remember. In the middle of a riveting back and forth with someone Carmen can’t remember the name of.

Carmen steps into the kitchen, skin sizzling with uncertainty. His gaze zips right to a young woman staring deeply into the steel of the sink. He blinks and glances around.

Is… is she real?

The chef waits a few moments. When the woman doesn’t disappear, Carmen feels his throat tighten.

He debates just leaving whoever she is be, but his mouth is so dry. And he needs some kind of alcohol if he’s going to make it through the next few hours. His feet take easy steps toward where the rest of the drinks sit pretty in a bucket of ice on the other side of the stranger.

The deep breath he inhales only steadies him a tad as he continues. He freezes when you turn to him. He can barely get out his small, “You mind if I get a drink?”

Carmen knows he’s blushing when you look at his lips. He bites at them unintentionally, waiting for you to say something. Anything. Finally–

“Sorry, what?”

Carmen relaxes a little and almost smiles. His eyes soften at the genuinely lost expression on your face.

“Nothing, just uh,” he starts, “just tryna get… something to drink.”

It takes a long ten seconds of you and Carmen staring at one another for you to realize that you’re blocking his access to the drinks on the counter.

“Oh, sorry,” you hurry out and scoot away. Carmen is quick to shake his head.

“No problem,” Carmen replies and is quick to shake his head at you. “S’alright.”

Silence fills the area as he goes to pull a random drink from the ice. He doesn’t remember to glance at the label on the glass, mind busy with averting his gaze from where you stand. You’re no better, shuffling back and forth in your chunky heels. The ones you decided to wear because you know how much Sebastian likes them.

Carmen barely stops himself from jumping when you quietly ask, “Are you a student at the conservatory?”

Conservatory?

“Con-conservatory? Uh, no. No, I’m, uh, I’m a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend that dragged me out here tonight.”

Your nod is interrupted by the dropping of your head, as another wave of weak but noticeable tears pools its way into your eyes. Carmen’s widens slightly, and his internal desire to retreat back into himself is so strong.

“Are you, uh… are you okay? You just, you got some,” Carmen sputters, finger reaching up to gesture toward his eyes. When he tries to finally push out the question, the sound of footsteps stops him.

“Carmen? You good?”

Everyone in the room pauses. You and Carmen, who looks like a deer caught in headlights, whip your heads toward Luca. His gaze immediately drags over to you, and he swallows. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not. Just talking to…” Carmen shrinks into nothing looking back at you. Name. He wants your name. You rattle it off to him in a way that makes the skin on his neck redden some more. Carmen repeats it softly, those big, baby blues intense and unmoving. Luca steps further into the kitchen, smiling lightly at the way the syllables fall from your lips.

Your lips. They’re nice, even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“I’m Luca. That’s Carmen.”

Their names fit perfectly. So perfect, that it makes you forget all about the cup you dropped in the sink. Carmen clears his throat and sniffs. He shifts, unsure of what to say next, but grimaces harshly when he brushes his hand up against the hard of the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the action but unwrinkle as soon as you see the bright burn on his hand.

Luca, who moves as soon as Carmen hisses, rounds the island in the middle of the room. He towers over Carmen, grabbing the smaller man’s hand and raising it up to get a better look.

“I thought you took care of that,” Luca gently scolds, face pinched into a frown.

“Yeah, no,” Carmen answers.

Just as Luca lets go of Carmen, you take a smaller step toward the men. “Uh, I can patch that up, if you want. There’s stuff up in the bathroom to take care of it, plus I’m really close with the owner of the house. I know she wouldn’t mind. Especially since you’re a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend.”

Carmen lets himself grin a little while Luca releases a short chuckle.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.” He turns to Luca and begins to follow where you’re heading for a nearby hallway. “I’ll be back in a second–”

“Luca can come, too. If you want. Arya won’t care.”

Carmen shuffles so you can’t see the way he widens his eyes at Luca. He tries to nod as inconspicuously as possible, and the taller man has to hold back the strong giggle that tries to exit him.

“Yes, okay,” Luca nods with a shrug, looking to you with a soft smile. “Lead the way.”

© superhoeva

[cwritesforfun]

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Anxiety Attacks & Rude Customers

You work at the Bear as the hostess and Sydney is your best friend. You've always had anxiety and things have been more anxious than normal. **TW: Anxiety & Anxiety Attack (YES, the plot has changed.) Y/N = Your Name

Masterlist

Y/N's POV

It's Friday, which means only two more shifts this week left. You arrive 10 minutes early and start putting stuff in your locker. Sydney arrives and does the same next to you while asking, "Feeling any better today?" You answer, "No, I just can't help how overwhelmed everything is making me. I can't shake this feeling." She replies, "You could take a break. You could've called in sick. The other hosts could've covered your shift." You shrug and reply, "I'll be fine." You notice Carmy standing near Sydney, he makes brief eye contact with you before looking away, and he says, "Hey, sorry to bother you both. Sydney, I need to see you in my office after you're ready." Sydney answers, "Yes chef." Carmy then walks off.

You help clean the dining room and run last-minute checks with Richie. When done, service starts and it's going well. It helps you take your mind off your crazy brain. You're currently in graduate school for management with a focus on hospitality and working at the Bear to make a little money to pay tuition. Work and graduate school together are not for the weak. You feel dragged out and worn out and what's worse, you feel so alone and like you have no friends, except for Sydney. It's getting to be a lot.

You hear your name and see a male customer visibly drunk standing in front of you. You ask, "Yes, how may I help you?" He slams his hand on the podium in front of you and says, "This is the worst service I've ever received! First, I ask for medium rare steak and I get it medium. The chef won't make it right and I've already returned it twice. And now, you didn't hear a word I said before and you're the worst host!" HARSH WTF!?!?! Your hand starts to shake a little, you move it out of the way, and you reply, "Sir, I'm ... I'm so sorry you were not pleased with the service you received here today. I can speak to my manager about what kind of compensation I can offer you. If that's alright with you, I will go find them and bring them to your table." The man says, "Fine. Be quick. I have another place to be soon." You nod, ask Fak to cover the host stand, and walk off to the back to find Richie.

You find Richie talking with Carmy and you say, "Richie, I need you in the dining room. A customer is saying that he returned a dish twice and it wasn't what he ordered. He also complained about the service and asked to speak to my manager." Carmy asks, "Does this man look intoxicated and have a stupid mustache that takes up half of his face?" You answer, "Yes chef." Carmy asks, "What exactly did he tell you?" You tell him the conversation word for word all while your hands keep shaking and Richie says, "I'm going to go punch him in the face." Carmy replies, "Not if I do it first. I hate his type of customer and him." You ask, "So, what should I tell him?" Richie sighs and says, "Y/N, return to the host stand and I'll deal with it. Carmy, the only question I have is was it cooked medium rare?" Carmy answers, "Yes, and I don't mess up cousin." Richie nods and says, "Ok." You return to the host stand and you watch Richie go over to the customer. You let Faz get back to his position and you stand behind the podium. You look down at your hand and it's shaking a little bit. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Your knee starts bouncing and you start taking more deep breaths. You have a break soon and if you can hold it together until then, you can try to ride out your anxiety attack on your break instead of at the podium.

You notice Richie escorting the drunk customer out with his friends and the man turns to you, slams his hands on the podium, and says, "I hope this is as far as you get in life! You're the worst hostess I've ever seen!" Richie says, "Sir, if you don't leave right now, I will call the police." The man turns to Richie and says, "I'm leaving, but you will hear from my lawyers." The man then leaves the building. You let out the breath you'd been holding in and sigh. The worst hostess?! I'm not bad. I want to get beyond this in life. What ... what did he mean that his lawyers would be in contact with us? Are you going to need a lawyer? Damn is that going to require a loan? Where are you going to find the money?

You hear your name and you see Richie standing in front of you. You exclaim, "Yeah, uh Richie, what's wrong?" He answers, "I was asking how you were and I can tell you're not doing well. I think you should take your twenty-minute break right now. Faz can cover the front. But, please just go out back for the break. I don't know if that customer is still out front or not." You nod and walk to the back. You push open the door to the kitchen and you walk straight to your locker. You open it and dig through your bag to only find an empty pill bottle. You forgot to bring more anxiety pills. You slam your head on the locker and say, "SHIT!" You leave your head on the locker and start crying. It's all too much.

You feel someone tap your arm and see Carmy standing there. He says, "Uh you can rest in my office for your break if you want to. I don't think you should go outside for your own safety. Richie says the customer is still lingering outside." You nod and say, "Thanks. I'll do that." You put the bottle back in your bag, lock your locker, and go to Carmy's office. You set a timer on your phone for 20 minutes, sit on the ground against the wall, curl your knees to your chest, put your head down, and your arms around your head. You let yourself shake and cry. You try calling your mom, but she must be busy. It'll be over soon.

You hear your timer turn off, you wipe your eyes and take one more deep breath. You leave the office, shove your phone in your bag, and return to the host stand.

Once work is done, you grab your work and walk off quickly without stopping to talk to anyone.

Carmy's POV

After work, I watch Y/N go back to the back and leave immediately. She doesn't even stop to talk to Sydney. Something is wrong. I wish I could help her. I care about her, probably more than I should.

I walk up to Sydney and say, "Hey, uh can I talk to you for a second?" She nods and follows me to my office. I close the door and say, "What I say cannot be repeated to anyone." Sydney replies "Yes chef." I reply, "For the next few minutes, say Carmy." She replies, "Ok Carmy. You're worrying me now." I say, "This is awkward, but... I care for Y/N and I'm not as close to her as I would like. But, I want to be close to her. I ... I'm worried about her. Tonight was tough and I could tell that even before service started, she was stressed about something. I want to check up on her, but I don't know where she lives. I want to bring her something to cheer her up and check on her." She replies, "Wow that was not what I expected for you to say... oh but it was nice to hear that you care about her. I ... um... I don't think I should be giving you relationship advice. But, I do know where she lives and do know that she likes those new caramel tarts that Marcus has been making. If you took her one and just told her that you wanted to drop off a sweet treat, she would probably let you in. She might open up to you, but I know she's going through a lot right now and I don't know her level of trust with you. Just be careful with her please." I nod and reply, "I promise." She gives me Y/N's address and I get Marcus to make a caramel tart for one to go. I slip my jacket on and leave work.

I arrive at Y/N's apartment and park in a visitor spot. I press call next to Y/N's spot in my contacts and wait.

(( Start of conversation)) Y - You & C - Carmy Y - Hello? Chef? C - Hey Y/N, I know it's after work and everything, but you left and I didn't want Marcus' caramel tarts to go to waste. Sydney gave me your address and I wanted to drop one off to you. I just parked in a visitor spot at your place. Is that okay? Can I drop it off? Y - Oh... um thanks for bringing it. I'll be right down. Just stay there. C - Okay. Y - Okay. See you in a minute. (( End of conversation))

Y/N's POV

Carmy is bringing you a caramel tart?! Yeah today is a weird one. Good news is you talked to your mom and finally were able to calm down for the first time in days. A caramel tart also sounds really good. But why is Carmy here?! You're still confused. You need to talk to Sydney about why she gave out your address. He's your boss, but still, what did he say to get her address out of Sydney?

You leave the apartment building and see Carmy leaning against his car looking at his feet. God, he's hot right now. Shit, don't think like that. THAT IS YOUR BOSS! Omg you just realized that he came straight after he got off work and you're in your pajamas with a hoodie over it. Welp at least you're dressed appropriately.

You walk up to him and exclaim, "Thanks for the dessert dropoff, chef." Carmy replies, "No problem and call me Carmy outside of work." You reply, "Ok Carmy." He hands over the tart and he says, "This area is nice. I've never really walked around this area before." You ask, "Really? It's really nice in the afternoon when the sun hits at the park across the street. It's so nice. I recommend going one day." He answers, "Yeah maybe I will... Y/N, how are you doing after that customer tonight? I know he said some hurtful things to everyone, but especially to you." You point to your right and ask, "Could we sit on that bench to talk about this?" He nods and follows you over there. You open the tart and take a bite. This is so good. Wow. You exclaim, "That customer tonight was rude. You know what was said. He was drunk and not in his right mind. I was very anxious all this week and that just was the last straw for me. It broke me. I didn't have any more of my anxiety medication in my work bag and my mom didn't answer my call. I usually talk to her to calm down or I take meds and sit by myself. I had neither. When I got back here, my mom called me and I took my meds. I am feeling a lot better mentally actually." You take another bite of the tart and Carmy says, "I'm glad you're feeling better. I get anxious too. I still can't control my anxiety. If you ever feel like that at work again, please tell me. You can sit in my office anytime you feel that way and someone can cover your spot while you take a break. I mean it. My office door is always open for you. And if you need someone to talk to, whether it is me or Sydney, I'll make sure one of us can be there for you." You reply, "Thank you Carmy. That is very thoughtful of you." He yawns and says, "I better head to my place. I still have to get up early tomorrow. Thank you for opening up to me and sharing something so vulnerable." You reply, "Thanks for listening and for the tart." He smiles and says, "Anytime, Y/N." You ask, "May I give you a hug? I feel like this conversation and gesture call for one?" He answers, "Yes you may." You both hug before he leaves in his car. Part Two and Part Three... coming soon

Masterlist