#carmy bear

[carmenberzattosgf]

okay but imagine carmy’s first time without the condom☝️😊 how he’d ask you if you’re sure so many times beforehand and when he’s finally inside he has to hold you still because damn! that feels almost too good! and it’s even worse if it’s the first time he cums inside too -💫

Carmy has you stripped naked within ten minutes of knocking your apartment door. You fall back on the mattress and watch as he quickly takes off his shirt and pants.

He crawls over top of you next, meeting your lips for a series of hot, messy kisses. He’s still wearing his boxers, so you take it upon yourself to push down his waistband so he can kick them off. He groans into your mouth when you grip his cock and lightly stroke him, spreading precum down his length.

“Need you to fuck me, Carm. Please—don’t wanna be teased. Just need you.” Carmy usually insists on eating you out first, but you want him inside of you.

“Y-yeah—I’ll take care of you.” He pauses for a moment, realization hitting him. “Shit! I don’t have a condom.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, or I would have bought some,” you giggle. He showed up tonight completely unannounced. He kissed you with hunger when you opened the door, making it clear what he needed from you.

“Sorry, I uh—just had to see you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you all day at work—shit—“ his voice falters as you stroke his dick again. More precum forms at his tip. “I can eat you out?” He offers.

“Want you, Carmy. I’m on birth control, it’ll be fine.”

You feel his cock pulse in your hand from your words.

“Are you—are you saying—“

“Please, Carm. I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck—are you sure? Shit, I can run down the block to the corner store if you want me to.”

By hooking a leg around his waist, you press Carmy in closer to you, lining him up with your entrance.

“M‘positive. Want you to fuck me. Please,” you beg. Carmy doesn’t take much convincing, though. He sinks into you slowly. A broken gasp leaves his mouth as the head of his cock slips into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ve never—never done this without a condom—holy fuck, baby.”

“S’good, Carmen. Filling me up so, so good—shit,” you whine as he completely bottoms out inside of you. He’s pulsing inside of you, and panting into your ear. You can’t help but move you hips to feel his cock nudge against your walls.

“Fuck. Stop. Stop moving,” he says through clenched teeth, gripping your hips to keep you still. “Just—just give me a second.”

You know better than to press your luck, so you run your fingers through his hair as he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Shit—so—so wet—fuck,” he murmurs. “Didn’t know it could feel like this. M’not going to last long. God—“

“Carmen—please move. Please—“ you beg. “Don’t care if you don’t last—want you to fill me up.”

“Holy shit, baby.” You watch Carmy’s eyes go dark. He was planning on pulling out and cumming on your stomach, but now that option is off the table. You want him to pump you full of his cum, and that thought alone makes his cock twitch.

Once he starts fucking into you, Carmy’s pace is relentless. He’s holding onto you for dear life, arms wrapped around your frame. He’s not hiding his face in your neck, though. He’s resting his forehead on yours so he can watch your face as you take his cock. Whenever he’s not kissing you, he has his bottom lip inbetween his teeth to contain the sounds of his moaning.

“So tight—so fucking warm, baby. Perfect for me. God, you’re perfect.”

“Carmy, Carmy—I can’t—m’gonna—“

“Soak my cock. Let me feel it,” he commands. He moves one of his hands to circle your clit with his thumb, and that sends you over the edge. Carmy’s pace grows sloppy and erratic. His forehead moves to rest on your shoulder, so he can look down and watch his cock thrust in and out of you.

The pulsing of your cunt around him with zero separation pulls a broken groan out of his lips, but he’s still trying to hang on for you. His hips fuck into you roughly, pounding into you hard and deep.

“Carm—cum in me. Fill me up—wanna feel you spill out of me—“ you cry. He lets himself go at your words, biting into your shoulder as his hips press as far into you as possible. You feel him throb inside of you, filling you up with cum.

You both lay in bed for who knows how long to catch your breath. Carmy’s still inside of you, keeping you plugged up with his load. He’s the first one to break the silence.

“Baby, I don’t think I can go back to using a condom again after that— I’ll pay for you to get an IUD, or an implant, or whatever you want.”

“Deal.”

[fishfooddude]

No Phone Policy 2.0

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Still feelin' very angsty... Except, I'm not sorry this time around.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 1

“Can I help you, sir?” an older nurse in baby pink scrubs asked Carmy as he approached the nursing station on the Labor and Delivery floor of the hospital. “Uh yeah- my wife is in labor.” Carmy managed to get out with minimal stuttering. She smiled, “Oh, that’s delightful! Can I have her first and last name, her DOB, and your ID?” 

Carmy nodded as he felt for his wallet in his jacket pocket. “Y/N Berzatto, 10/31/97.” He managed to fish his wallet out of his pocket and handed the nurse his ID. The nurse thanked him and quickly typed something into the computer. Carmy watched her face shift. “Just give me one moment.” She grinned sympathetically and scampered over to another nurse in a similar pair of pink scrubs. Carmy watched them whisper back and forth as his anxiety grew. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly found your contact. As he hit call, he noticed the older nurse walking back to where he’d been waiting with the other nurse in tow. When Carmy heard your ringtone coming from down the hall, he made the decision to follow the sound. “Mr. Berzatto!” the nurse called after him as he turned around the corner and managed to find your room. 

“Baby—I’m so—” Carmy immediately stopped his apology when he noticed the small pink bundle in your arms. He couldn’t breathe or speak; he just stared. “Sir. You aren’t allowed in this room. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” a security guard calmly instructed as he put a hand on Carmy’s shoulder. It immediately tensed, “Tha-that’s my wife and m-my daughter.” Carmy murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. You looked up at the ceiling and squeezed your eyes closed as you brought your right hand to your face. “Baby?” Carmy pleaded. You shook your head as you wiped away a stray tear. 

“I want him out of here. Now.”

Part 3

[moonstruckme]

Hiya love, I’ve got a little Carmy idea? If it makes it out the gulag, then brilliant. If not, then at least it’s a nice little thought for us, eh? So I was thinking, maybe it’s set in season one and the reader worked at the bear back when it was the beef. So when Carmy joins, the reader could be on holiday leave or time off to grieve Mikey or something, and when Carmy’s changing everything up Richie can be all ‘big dog won’t like this’ and everyone, even Tina keeps making comments about big dog (the reader). Then! Like a week later or something, the reader comes back to work and she’s all meek and mellow and lovely, and Carmy’s just petrified of her because she’s ’the big dog’ but it turns out everyone just calls her that because she quite literally just has a big dog? Feel absolutely free to ignore the ramble, but if it sparks any creative flow at all, I’d be barking like dog for ya (pun intended this time lol). Hope you’re well, love you lots, have a great day :)

Thank you angel, hope you have a great day too! <3

cw: mention of past death, grief kinda skimmed over but there

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 932 words

Carmy is ready for a fight. He’s had to be ready every day since he started running The Beef, really, a fight always crops up whether he’s ready or not, but today he’s extra prepared. He hears the back door open as he’s doing inventory, and he gets all geared up. 

This is his restaurant now. His shitshow. Carmy can run it into the ground if he wants to—and he doesn’t want to, but he could, that’s basically what was happening anyway, and the point is that now it’s his. No matter what anybody fucking says, no matter how the back of the house rags on him, he’s—

“Oh. Hi.” 

You look surprised to see him. And Carmy thought he was ready for you, but he’s surprised too. You don’t…maybe he’s about to eat his words, but you don’t look like a Big Dog. You’re not what he was expecting. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“You must be Carmy.” He can see your eyes roving his face, looking for Mikey. A lot of people have been doing that lately. 

Carmy never thought they looked much like brothers. Some people said it was in their mouths, though Mikey’s smiled more. Some people said they sounded the exact same, but only when they were angry. Whatever you find, you offer a faint smile at the end. It’s confusing. 

“Yeah,” Carmy says awkwardly. “You’re early.” 

“I like to come in a little early,” you say by way of explanation. Feet taking you to your station as if by muscle memory, your eyes still on Carmy’s. “Used to be the only one. Is there anything I can help with?” 

“Uh, sure. Four cups of cheese.” 

“Oh it, chef.” You salute, heading towards the pantry. 

Carmy eyes you as you walk back to your station and start shredding. He was ready for a fight, but he doesn’t know what he’s getting into now. Is this some kind of fucking psychological warfare? 

All week, it’s been ooh, Big Dog won’t like that. Just wait ‘til Big Dog gets back. You really wanna fuck with Big Dog’s system? Digging your own grave, Jeff. Big Dog, Big Dog, Big Dog. Carmy doesn’t know exactly what he was anticipating, but it wasn’t you. He guesses appearances don’t mean everything. Tina can be fucking terrifying when she wants to, too. 

“So,” you say, shredding calmly, “how are you?” 

Carmy frowns. “Huh?” 

You look up. Something in his expression puts a worried pinch between your brows. “Sorry, was that too personal?” you ask, and though Carmy waits for the mocking tone he doesn’t hear it. “I just mean, with everything with your brother, and then taking on this place, and the total restructuring, it has to be a lot. I’m sure…” You look at him again, biting your tongue. “But, sorry, we don’t even know each other. I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s fine,” he finds himself saying. Which, it’s not really, but you keep fucking apologizing. It’s making him squirm. “Yeah, it’s…it’s been a fucking trip.” 

You nod compassionately. “I’m sure. Listen, I know it’s not the same, but Mikey was like family to a lot of us.” It’s something Carmy’s heard a lot recently. Sometimes in accusatory tones, usually making jealousy rise like bile in his throat, but something about the way you say it sounds different. It’s sincere, like an offering. Like company. 

“If there’s anything you need,” you go on, “you can let me know. I mean, it seems like you’ve already got this place running better than it ever did.” You look around the room appreciatively. Admiring the clean kitchen, which used to be spotted everywhere with rust stains and globs of old food. “But I’m always happy to take on more if you’ve got stuff.” 

Carmy looks at you. Your lips are curved in a faint smile, eyes soft and warm. He can’t find one thing about you that looks insincere. 

He’s about to say sure, the s a breath on his tongue, when the door bangs open. 

“Big Dog!” Richie shouts. 

“Hey!” Your grin widens. You allow yourself to be pulled roughly into a side hug. “Good to see you, Rich. How’re you holding up?” 

“Eh.” Richie shrugs, false insouciance twisting his expression. But his eyes are tender for you. “You know.” 

“Yeah.” You bump his shoulder lightly, careful to keep your hands clean. “I get it.” 

“Why Big Dog?” Carmy blurts. 

You and Richie both look at him in confusion. 

“What?” Richie asks. 

“Why…” Carmy shakes his head, baffled. “Why does everyone call you Big Dog?” 

“Oh.” You laugh. It’s maybe the best thing Carmy’s heard all week, which is just fucking disorienting. “You mean because of Gladys?” 

“Gladys?” Carmy echoes. 

“Fucking rottweiler, cousin,” says Richie. “Big fucking dog.” 

“I know what a rottweiler is,” Carmy nearly snaps. His gaze whips to you. It’s a common enough tone for him—Richie always brings it out—but he finds he doesn’t want to raise his voice so much with you around to hear. If you notice, though, you don’t seem to think much of it. “You aren’t a rottweiler.” 

“But she has a rottweiler, man.” Richie slaps him on the shoulder, scoffing. “Get over it. It’s a nickname!” 

“It’s a fucking stupid nickname.” Carmy does snap this time, regretting it when your eyebrows raise. 

He’s about to backtrack—you’re not stupid, obviously you’re not stupid, but Richie is the stupidest motherfucker Carmy ever had the misfortune of meeting—when he sees the smile playing on your lips. 

You shrug, light as anything. “Guess you’ll have to give me a new one then.”

[unbearableblog]

To my birthday. I wish myself to one day be loved like that. Based on a dream

Dream Dish

“Can you explain it a little more?”

“So, the outside was covered in dried cranberries and blueberries, but the inside was like… grass? I don’t know…”

“Grass? Sounds delicious,” he laughs.

“Shut up.”

Carmen listened intentively and moved away his curls as you described the dream you had, a certain dish that you tried there.

“Ugh, it was so weird? Like, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered this grass before. It was like hay, but green? And the outside of the dessert was like a fortune cookie, but brown?” you sigh in frustration, unable to describe its complexity in full, until an idea appears in your head. You quickly stand up and blurt out - “I’ll show you!”

You run to get the pencils and paper, leaving Carmen to sit amused on the bed. He knew waking up with you would be an adventure, but not in this way. Either way, he liked it.

“Here!” You put the paper down and frantically drew shapes and coloured them in, making the dream a reality.

“So! This is what it looks like.”

You paused from your driven spurt and realized that Carmen hasn’t said a word. He was silently looking at the paper.

“Sorry, this must be really boring to hear,” you suddenly shut down. After all, it was you who tried that magical dish, not him.

He looks up at you, then down at the paper. “No- …no, it’s a fascinating dish. I’m just tryna understand how it works,“ he still sounds kinda sleepy.

"It's okay, Carm, you don't have to."

Several days have passed and you moved on. You didn’t want to abandon your friends after getting a boyfriend, so today was one of the nights when you met up for a chat. When you came back, the apartment felt warmer and had a fruity scent - Carmen must have tried something for the restaurant.

You take your heels off and tiptoe to the kitchen, curious. He hasn’t heard you come in, so he is still hunched over the counter. Your eyes shifted to the table - and you wondered whether you were awake.

“Carmen? What’s that?”

“Shit!” he jumps, at which you chuckle, “when’d you come back?”

“Right now,” you say hesitantly, “why, was I not supposed to?”

“Of course not,” he comes to hug you. His arms are on your waist, and you know he can still smell your perfume. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he releases you and turns to the table.

You recognize the dish.

“Is that-”

“Yes, baby, that’s your dish,” he smiles and looks kinda proud.

“Can I try it?” you ask, and he reaches down to take the plate and a spoon. You break the cookie in half, inspect the filling, and eat it. As you chew, the insanity of the situation grows on you. This is a made-up dish. From your dream. You’re eating it.

“I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the exact grass you were talkin’ about, I had to switch it out with-”

“It’s okay, Carm, I’m sure that if it existed you would have found it,” you put the plate down and your hands slide to his arms, “It’s amazing. It didn’t taste nearly as good in the dream,”

“It is pretty good, isn’t it?” he takes the other half of the cookie and eats it too.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

”I made it.”

“I came up with it.”

He doesn’t respond, just smiles at you. You look him in the eyes and think how happy you are.

“I love you,” he whispers and gives you a kiss.

[illusivelle]

just right

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader rating: t (for now) length: 1,699 words content: mild cursing summary: you go to the market every week like clockwork, normally one of the first ones there. but you don't expect to see a familiar face standing at one your favourite vendors. a/n: did someone say brain rot? hope you all enjoy this one. i just can't get enough of a neighbour trope apparently. not proofread although not exactly a middle of the night dump - more like middle of the day. read part one link to ao3 here!

You'd gone from never seeing your neighbour, Carmen — no, Carmy — to seeing him every so often. In the halls mid afternoon, when you'd just come home and were ready to settle in and it looked like he was heading out to start his evening. Sometimes out in front of the building while you exchanged your goods with your elderly neighbour, fresh bread for flowers and greens, Carmy strolling into the apartment with his own bag in tow. And now, well before most of the city had even had their first coffee, at the farmer's market.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. The silhouette of your neighbour that started to haunt your dreams at night. Floppy soft curls, stark blue eyes, tattoos littered over the carved muscles of his arms and hands. But as you slowed your pace to a near stop and focused, you knew it wasn't just your eyes playing tricks on you. There was Carmy standing underneath the tent of one of your favourite growers, a tattooed hand covering his mouth as he grazed his knuckles along his lips. Those blue eyes bright even this far away, darting between the offerings on the table and the familiar face behind the counter who was eagerly smiling and chatting him up.

And again, you were rendered frozen. He hadn't even looked your way and yet your feet felt cemented to the ground in your indecision.

Go to pick out your produce like any other day, or turn around and run?

The latter made your brows pinch together because why was that even an option? Carmy didn't own the market, and he sure as shit wasn't going to be the reason you leave the market fruitless (literally). But there was a churning low inside your belly, a wash of nerves as you started to close the distance between the two of you. Or rather, between you and the stall. The vendor — the real reason you were approaching now, and it had nothing to do with the undeniably attractive man standing there, too.

You didn't look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with the incredibly interesting purple cauliflower, flipping it in your hand a couple of times before you heard the soft grumble of somebody clearing their throat.

But still, you didn't look up from staring at the vegetable, like it was the single most fascinating thing in the world. And truly, it was, because you had no idea that cauliflower could even be another colour other than white, nevermind the fact that these stalks were larger than usual with its long leaves cradling them on every side.

Maybe that was your first mistake, going blindly for the first and nearest thing you saw instead of picking up something you were used to. God, why didn't you pick up the onion or garlic or tomato? Or maybe, just maybe, it was an unconscious choice to try to break through the hypothetical wall between you and your neighbour.

"Hi."

The look of shock on your face wasn't exactly fake. Carmy did surprise you. Partly because you weren't expecting him to say anything to you at all, but mostly because when you tipped your head to acknowledge him, he was suddenly so incredibly close. Close enough for you to catch the lingering smell of smoke, a hint of coffee, and fresh soap. A strange blend but on him, it oddly worked — and made you want to lean in closer.

"Hi."

"It's sweet."

"What?"

"A little nutty."

"I don't—"

"The cauliflower." A shy smile split Carmy's lips as he stared pointedly at the bunch of purple florets in your hand before he locked his gaze with yours. "Mostly sweet, though."

Right, the cauliflower. "Too sweet, you think?" Your attention faltered for a second and landed on his lips at the same time he decided to roll his tongue along the bottom one.

"Mm, just right, I'd say."

"Just right."

What was it about Carmy's presence that made you want to sit with it a moment longer? Your conversations with him have mostly been in passing save for the time you handed him his package, but even that was short, only a few words exchanged between the two of you. It didn't matter how little he said, you hung onto the words. Not quite grasping for more but appreciating that he wasn't the type to speak just to fill the air. Appreciating that there seemed to be more under the surface he wasn't voicing, but was clear if you just had enough courage to look into his eyes a little bit longer.

And today, you found that courage. Flicking your gaze up to him and holding his stare, a slow smile unfurled from one corner of your mouth to the other, shocked to see it mirrored in Carmy's face.

"Have you ever tried it before?"

"No, never."

"You'll have to let me know how you like it."

"Oh?"

"Roasted is usually a pretty safe option," he continued, picking up some sage and handing it to you, "but turning it into a soup with some crispy sage on top is better."

You glanced down at how easily Carmy placed the herb in your palm, smiling to yourself before nodding. "So you like to cook?"

"Uh," he chuckled, knuckles lifting to graze his mouth again as if he wanted to hide that smile, the indent on his cheek peeking out from behind his wrist, "something like that, yeah."

"A chef?"

"I, uh, yeah. I cook. I'm a chef. Of sorts."

"Of sorts."

"I used to— um. Used to cook fancy things, now I cook other things."

"Right," you drawled, and although your brows were bunched together, amusement lined every other inch of your features, "so, used to cook in your basement and now you cook…?"

"In a kitchen."

"Real food this time, though."

"Mostly edible."

A loud laugh escaped you, almost embarrassingly so. The banter between you two was quick, easy, fun even as you caught the way his chin dipped into his chest on a wider smile. His dimple was very much showing itself now and you were glad that your hands were full because they itched to touch him.

And that would be absolutely no fucking good, would it?

You barely knew Carmy — Carmen. He was just your neighbour, nothing else.

As your laughter dwindled down to nothing but soft smiles, the vendor came around to greet you. In his hand were some of the other fruits and veg you normally liked to keep, a handful of fresh lemons in a basket and extra radishes and red onion.

"D'you—?"

"Do I?"

"Come here often?"

"I mean, as often as I can given it only happens once a week." You teased.

Carmy redirected his attention to the man behind the small counter, and they did a similar exchange. Cash for produce that went right into the large bag you hadn't noticed was tucked behind his back. "Are you, uh, you gonna walk around a bit more—"

But a sharp ringtone sounded from his pocket and Carmy was already groaning, fishing for the phone and giving you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I gotta—"

"Of course."

With his back turned to you and his voice lowered, speaking in hushed tones, you moved to the side in an effort to give him his privacy. But you couldn't help your curiosity, peering over your shoulder to watch the way he tangled his hand through his hair and paced back and forth.

Who was he talking to? What was it about? Why was there a divot in his brow and why did you so badly want to soothe it with your fingers?

You shook your head in a shallow attempt to shake the thought, the thought that had no business forming in your mind. Carmy stared at his phone for a moment before he pocketed it again, turning to you with an uncertainty flashing in his eyes, like a cloud rolling through the sky. "Hey, I, uh, I gotta go, but… woulda been nice to have some company today."

"A chef's company, no less." You kept your tone light and easy, fingers wrapping around the straps of the bag you hitched higher on your shoulder.

But his tone was far less playful, laced with intention as he spoke. "Or just a person with a curious mind."

And there it was again, another moment that hung on a thin thread in the small space between you two, a ghost of a smile that made his dimple peek through the stubble on his cheek.

"See you around?" He asked quietly, his head slanted to level with your gaze.

Was there any other answer? "Yeah."

"Okay." Carmy nodded, wiping his fingers over his mouth before giving a nod to the vendor and turning back to you. "Okay."

"Okay."

A few seconds passed where you thought maybe the rest of the world stopped. Just the endless swirls of the blue in his eyes, like the sky meeting the sea and each blink, a tide calling to you. A few seconds, a few blinks, before Carmy was nodding and walking past you, throwing you a tiny smile over his shoulder that you would've missed if you hadn't been staring so blatantly at him.

Carmen Berzatto, your next door neighbour that was clearly reeling you in whether he knew it or not. And for fuck's sake, you should really get a grip sooner rather than later, scolding yourself silently as you belatedly realized you'd been ogling him as he left.

When you went home less than an hour later, your elderly neighbour gave you the fresh bread and asked you what she was supposed to do with the purple cauliflower you handed to her. "Heard it was best roasted," you shrugged, but hung onto the vegetable, "do you want me to make you something with it instead?" This thrilled her, clear in the wide grin crossing her face as she shoved the bundle back into your bag, letting you know how excited she was and thanking you.

"Thank Carmy." You said without thinking.

And almost too quickly, she smirked. "Oh, why am I not surprised?"

[ambitiouspotions]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS | CARMEN BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — carmy is finally home for the holidays and you, his childhood friend, are invited to the berzatto christmas dinner

word count — 10.2k

warnings — angst, mentions of addiction, family chaos, written and added to season 2 episode 6 so like you know strap in (of course all credit to the wonderful creators, writers, producers, and directors for the fuckery of the episode they created)

author’s note — yeah, anyways have fun! also going by the basis that carmen is at least 15 years younger than mikey!

“hold on, stall for me, i heard them saying my name,” carmen requested, pausing your conversation to make his way to the front door to ask his older siblings why they called upon him. you tilted your head, not being able to even deny his request before he went outside. you pulled at the sleeve of your knitted green sweater, only letting the headache-inducing arguing mixed with a symphony of christmas music filter through your ears.

you roamed the trays of cheese and crackers as he was away, the fak brothers yammering in your ear about a potential business reselling baseball cards on ebay.

“apparently, i’ve been placed on mom duty,” he muttered as he came back to join your side. he smelled faintly of cigarette smoke when he returned. who could blame him? 74% of the american population were also in agreement that the christmas holidays were the most stressful time of year.

the rest of the berzatto family was staggering through the den, quick quips flying from their mouths as they interacted with each other. lee was trying to pass off a bright red, piping hot dutch oven to everyone he walked past, finally settling on sugar to bring the dish to the kitchen. you felt bad for her. she already confided in you the moment she saw you. she was so nervous about ruining christmas because of her impulsive tendency to ask her mother if she was okay. it was a surprise for her to see carmen again after he had been in copenhagen, but an even bigger surprise when she learned carmen was bringing you to a family dinner.

you, peach, well that’s what mikey had deemed you after a particularly embarrassing accident in the neighborhood. the nickname stuck over the years, and now the entire berzatto family was keen on calling you peach rather than your actual name. you were caught in the middle of this entire night, avoiding your own family for personal reasons, and already regretting saying you’d be there for carmen. you had enough of the berzatto stress working for mikey at the beef. none of that was ever mentioned to carmen. the past nine months, in between your college courses, you were bagging sandwiches and helping the patrons of the beef while listening to richie and mikey’s bullshit.

you didn’t expect carmen to call so late at night. you had gotten a few random, nondescript texts from him over the months he had been away, but never expected his next time to contact you would be over the phone asking you to join him for christmas dinner with his family. so, there you stood, trying to make conversation and witty banter with the friends and close relatives of the berzatto family because carmen was so terrible at socializing. they were all happy to see you in some weird way, like a blast from the past, the nostalgia of “peach and bear.”

carmen was in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t allow you to step a foot into the war zone of a thousand unlabeled timers, splatters of sauce, overfilled oven, cluttered stove, drunken and mentally ill donna, and the unprepared seven fucking fishes. it was loud enough to overhear donna barking orders to an already panicked carmen. jimmy was brave enough to walk in to get olives for his cocktail, spouting promises to keep his hands to himself. though he had extra courage taunting donna about what they were going to have for dessert, lucky for him, she had taken his teasing calmly.

the kitchen was heating up as more people went in and out. you didn’t dare. the faks, donna yelling for mikey, and sugar.

ugh, why natalie?

why did she have to leave you and enter the trenches?

“ma, are you good?” sugar questioned, her voice rising over the kitchen timers, fak brothers, and donna. “ma?”

no, come on nat, no. you told me that you wouldn’t do that.

“yeah, yeah, we’re good.” carmen insisted. his next move was to attempt to direct his sister to the garage for more paper towels. he was already doing well guiding donna’s attention away from natalie.

you had only zoned out for a second when michelle and steven were asking about your college career. your head whipped, excusing yourself quickly from the new york-dwelling cousins.

“okay, this is why, this is why i didn’t want to come home.” carmen’s voice rang through your ears, his annoyed stutter making his older brother and mother begin to argue over his impoliteness on christmas.

you stood on the outside edge of the entrance of the kitchen, playing with the ring on your index finger as another timer shrieked through the kitchen. you wanted to step in, but everything seemed to be moving so quickly. they were being so condescending, leaving carmen to stand up for himself. mikey had a full mouth of food urging his younger brother to say three simple words. carmen’s unamused face said it all as donna egged him on as well.

carmen clearly gave in to the taunting because his next words were “i love you.” his tone said it all. he was becoming very agitated. his mother wrapped him in a hug, glancing in your direction.

mikey placing a quick and vexing kiss on the side of carmen’s head muttered “so happy the bear's home,”

“happy, happy to see you too, peach,” donna added, now averting her attention to the grossly jammed stove.

“yeah, you too, see dee,” you emphasized, blowing her a kiss as her hands covered in batter hovered above carmen’s shirt collar as she held him in her arms for a moment longer.

donna and mikey cared for carmen, but they didn't understand him. though, you didn't quite understand carmen either. he was always trying to prove to his family that he was the best, but being the best now meant that he was too “fancy” for them. you wished he could stay away from the overbearing chaos his family brought, but apparently, it was better for him to only come home once a year to stay in their good graces.

now, donna was trying to gain carmen’s attention, but little to her knowledge carmen was paying attention to her. he was trained to continuously be moving in a busy kitchen, but donna saw that as a sign of disrespect and avoidance. she forgot her train of thought, though carmen who had been paying attention, got his inebriated mother back on task to explain freeing an oven spot for another dish. donna’s orders, although scattered and frantic were being heard by carmen. he wasn’t going to let this be another year of disaster.

you were glad he could understand donna because even after years of knowing the berzattos, donna was a character that you never quite understood. after all, no one ever bothered to discuss her deep-rooted issues. you had the liberty of learning of her crazy antics on your own accord after overhearing stories and occasionally witnessing smaller bouts of her rage. donna’s illness was unspoken, but maybe that was for the best. she clearly didn't want to be helped or think she needed help.

the pregnant tiff entered; she was always nice, but even with the upset her baby was causing her she seemed in better spirits than anyone. she could have an escape away from family and friends while she pukes her guts into the toilet. donna was determined for carmen to understand that tiffany was not okay. she had thrown up! she needed to be cared for!

tiffany wasn't helpless, but it made donna feel better about herself to worry for someone else other than herself, for once. maybe donna just wanted to seem like she cared and truly didn't? you never knew where to place her.

the timer again! donna was questioning her own directions as she tried to remember what dish she needed to tend to. carmen had remembered because, through his conversation with tiff, he managed to make his way to the stovetop. richie had blocked carmen, setting him back for a few moments. he was quickly back on track. natalie had come back with the paper towels, and your eyes were set on her. you saw her gaze at the open bottles of liquor. you blocked the view of her as she poured the toxic brews down the sink. hopefully, with less liquid courage, donna would settle down.

the entire time as you blocked the wandering eyes in the kitchen from natalie’s liquor-guzzling drain your mind was fixated on carmen’s precise movements. he never seemed to waste any time.

“my timers are going off!” donna exclaimed to carmen, as if her disorganization was her son’s issue. carmen stood up for himself again as he finished tending to donna’s mess to make tiffany, who was already making her way to the bedroom to lie down, a sprite.

carmen was facing ridicule again. he was a chef, having staged in a very elite restaurant, and they were surprised that he could make fucking sprite. did they think he wasted years of his life to be mediocre? none of them knew that he had the terrible and compulsive need to be better than the environment he was raised in. you felt that since carmen was on donna duty, you had to be on carmen duty. you were invited to family dinner, but you extended your invitation to your remaining brain cells that were urging you to protect carmen from the wrath of his family.

you never understood carmen’s perspective. you had begged carmen multiple times to get away from the shitshow the berzattos produced, but he never listened. he always came circling back each year and looked to you for an answer as to why his anxiety was so terrible. maybe it was the universe’s way of a practical joke. you were avoiding your own family and now had to deal with carmen’s family.

you folded your hands in front of you as you faced richie and donna. “you have to give him some credit for working at noma.” your comment was overlooked the moment natalie started questioning her mother’s wellbeing. carmen heard this, giving you a quick glance.

sugar, why? leave donna the fuck alone. i know you are trying to help, but fuck off, sug.

“nat, she’s fine,” you squeaked out as donna pulled natalie closer. she took it better than expected, but as richie started asking about the tradition of the seven fishes, you could’ve sworn donna was being interrogated. her exaggerated body movements and the close proximity to richie’s face were enough to make you stand on edge as carmen began muddling the limes and lemons for his homemade pop.

let it be, rich. let her have her stupid traditions and let it be!

lee chimed in ready to explain the biblical part to richie’s question, though adding more than necessary.

“...makin’ people feel like shit, holding everything in and then letting it out inappropriately, raging, pouting, screaming, making scenes. you know all the italian classics?” lee chattered on and on, hinting obviously towards donna’s behavior. she didn’t notice, but if she did she paid him no mind.

donna stood in the middle of everyone’s conversations, watching lee and richie steal a bite of food as another timer rang, carmen adjusting the “proscuit” and the “mortadel” by order of his mother, and richie now taking the glass of sprite.

carmen slid over to you, offering a tasting spoon of some concoction from the stove when he had a moment.

“why is no one listening to me?”

here we go.

you were bracing for impact as donna, richie, and carmen tried to figure out why her temperament wasn’t as mellow as it had been just a few seconds prior.

over a pot that she never mentioned until now? classy, donna, really classy.

richie took that as a sign to leave. he didn’t want any part of donna’s delusional shenanigans.

“he’s going to move the pot, dee dee,” you said defensively as carmen lugged the white stock pot off the burner and to an empty space on the counter. you could tell carmen was getting close to a breaking point as he stormed out of the kitchen. he put his hand up to you, stopping you from following him. you knew after years of being friends with him it was best to let him simmer before trying to immediately help him.

as donna spouted multiple thank yous, you slipped out of the hell hole of the kitchen to the bathroom. you knew better than to bother carmen when he was seemingly about to burst.

to your surprise, when looking in the mirror, you were still put together, tugging at the waistband of your jeans to waste more time collecting yourself. though as you dilly-dallied in the bathroom carmen was being hazed by mikey and richie. when you exited the bathroom natalie was lingering in the hallway waiting for you, swiftly taking you with her upstairs to tiffany.

mikey and richie were face to face asking each other if either one of them had told carmen the good news.

“why are you guys fucking with me?” carmen asked, his tone raising as the annoyance continued.

“no one’s fucking with you!” the friends said in unison.

“why would you think that?” mikey pestered carmen, taking a step closer to him.

“‘cause you’re always fuckin’ with me, that’s why i fuckin’ think it,” carmen spat back, his entire body tensing. he wanted them to stop with their anticipation and tell him what was so important.

“it’s a good thing! it’s a good thing!” they insisted, attempting to calm carmen down. carmen was standing stiff, his face reading as unimpressed and blank.

“just take a break from being a mopey little fuck,” mikey urged carmen as richie tried to quiet the youngest berzatto brother.

“we’re trying to tell you that peach is the love of your fucking life.” mikey’s voice dropped lower as he told carmen. he didn’t know where you were located in the house and didn’t want you to overhear as he told his brother the information.

“dude, i don’t have a love of my life.” carmen’s shoulders only seemed to tense more as they spoke.

richie was wearing a shit-eating grin as another timer echoed through the house.

“she’s been working at the restaurant,” mikey interjected as richie pumped his fists. “the body is banging!” he exclaimed as mikey mocked the word "banging” to carmen.

“she’s hot as balls. dude, that tip jar is always fucking full every time she picks up a shift.” richie reiterated excitedly as he bent closer to carmen.

though your normal attire had always been comfortable and mostly consisted of oversized garments, working at the beef transitioned your working attire to a more fitted attire due to having an overwhelming amount of regular male customers. your school loans had to be paid somehow.

carmen’s entire face was contorting upon hearing their comments about you. he wasn’t stupid. he knew you were attractive, but knowing his older brother and his married friend were ogling over you was disgusting. and wait? mikey said you were working at the restaurant? why the hell were you in that goddamn restaurant?

“she’s like a waitress in a fuckin’ porno,” richie continued, mikey following suit again “she’s all that and a fuckin’ basket of biscuits, bro.”

“oh, oh,” mikey started to speak again, inching closer to carmen’s face. “by the way she’s like a legitimate fucking wizard.” richie agreed with mikey, beaming as he spoke.

“w-wait, what did you say to her?” carmen stammered, looking at the two friends frantically. “you’ve been working with her? what did you say to her?” he needed to know. dear god, he needed to know why it was such good news and why it was so important that they tell him that you were the love of his life. what did they do this time?

“she picks up a shift when she doesn't have class,” mikey said casually, though carmen’s voice was rising in a panic.

“what did you do?” he asked, his eyes darting quickly at mikey and then at richie. “what did you do?” he demanded, barely able to catch his breath.

“bro, this is a once-in-a-million opportunity for you to score with a woman that’s stacked physically and mentally,” richie explained nonchalantly.

“homie, you’re having a fucking child,” carmen said his brows furrowed together trying to comprehend the fucked situation in front of him as another timer ended and sent the dinging through the hallways. “why are you even talking like that?” carmen questioned with a huff.

“it’s done,” mikey confessed, taking a step back.

“who asked you to do that?” carmen petitioned. he was furious. why the hell was his brother meddling in his life?

“i put in a good word,” mikey said, attempting to brush off carmen’s anger.

“nobody asked you to do that,” carmen countered sternly.

“she told me you two were in touch, so i told her about how you always had a little crush on her.” mikey smirked as if he hadn’t just released embarrassing information.

mikey wasn't lying, upon telling him that carmen had invited you to family dinner a few hours later, he and richie were trying to offer carmen up as the main course. you managed to walk away from the conversation unscathed, but mentally trying not to admit being too interested in what they were saying. you weren't going to seem like a lovesick fool and admit your feelings for him to his older brother and family friend.

“i feel like you’re breaking my balls.” carmen clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as more information came out. “i don’t understand why you always do that,” carmen grunted, continuing his heated rambling. “like, why are you like this?”

“she’s hot now, carm. she’s hot now,” richie said, circling back to where the conversation had started, trying to urge carmen to think of something positive.

“stevie was with us!” mikey exclaimed, already calling steven into the heated conversation.

“i don’t need steven to come over here,” carmen hissed, throwing his arms up as steven rounded the corner.

“would you tell him about peach at the beef?” the friends said, filling steven in on their topic of conversation.

“oh, y/n? peach?” steven asked, being confirmed with nods by richie and mikey. “she’s wonderful–”

carmen stared blankly, how had you agreed to come to christmas dinner with him knowing mikey had told you about the crush he used to have on you? he was filtering out the words steven was saying as richie and mikey started talking over each other.

“she’s a deeply good person,” steven said, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other around an overfilled glass of red wine. “i can see why you’re in love with her–”

“i-i’m not in love with her, though, that’s what i’m saying,” carmen pressed further, wishing that someone would listen to him. “where did you guys get this from?”

“you used to have all those drawings,” richie commented, though carmen’s anger and embarrassment spiked as he pointed a finger at the group of men in front of him.

“that’s what i’m fuckin’ talking about, though!” carmen’s voice was rising every second, but luckily for him you, natalie, and tiffany were in donna’s bed catching up with each other as carmen only got louder.

“that’s what i’m saying! that’s why i think you’re fucking with me!” carmen was speaking so rapidly. he could barely keep up with his words as steven, richie, and mikey began to chuckle.

“you used to give me a fucking hard time about it.” carmen retorted again, backing away from the three of them. mikey was pestering carmen by trying to grab his face as the cycle of another timer was over. carmen was begging for him to stop touching him as steven mentioned that mikey had the conversation with you handled.

the timer kept ringing as mikey inched closer. carmen was swatting his brother’s hands away as a spoon flew towards the men.

“the fuck?” steven murmured, turning on his heel to look at donna. “auntie d, did you just throw a spoon at me?”

that was a hell of a way to break up a conversation. donna demanded that the sprite richie was toting be brought to his wife and that carmen was needed back in the kitchen.

“ma, you gotta chill, mom,” mikey said walking towards donna, repeating himself as she urged him not to speak to her that way.

richie bent down, holding one of carmen’s shoulder’s firmly. “we’re not done with this peach thing.”

“you’re fuckin’ breaking my balls,” carmen said, his voice had lowered again, though he did not look pleased.

“no, i think, i think it’s just a big misunderstanding,” richie admits, taking a final peak over steven’s shoulder before resuming his task of bringing the sprite to tiffany.

steven nodded to carmen. “carm…this is a good thing.”

carmen was looking past steven’s striped shirt and large square glasses as he spoke. he didn’t care what anyone was saying to him about you. he might have been overly defensive in that vomit-inducing conversation, but maybe that was because he did care about you.

you and natalie had filtered out of donna’s bedroom as richie knocked on the door, leaving the couple to their own devices.

the entire time you had sat on the edge of the bed with the other two women, carefully looking around the jaguar-infested room. it was so dramatically gaudy and over the top. though, donna being donna, would most definitely have it decorated the way she did.

the conversations were light at first though when tiffany mentioned richie previously telling her that michael had told you of the childhood crush carmen had on you there was nothing other than laughter. the laughter was refreshing from the overwhelming dread that was lingering over the home. it was as though being with family, this family, in particular, was a death sentence to any participant.

you weren't oblivious to carmen's obvious staring and stuttering, though even in the present day nothing had changed. except you left out the part where you mentioned that you were always stealing sneaky glances at carmen as well.

in the kitchen, an artichoke topped with breadcrumbs fell to the ground. donna was on her knees cursing as she began to clean it. lee rushed in to help her. he made her laugh. donna was laughing and smiling. that brought her temperament down. lee not only helped clean the kitchen mess, but donna’s attitude as well.

though now donna was shoving her long red nails into lee’s face insisting that she didn’t need a job opportunity that he had smoothly worked into the conversation. mikey had walked into the back and forth with lee and donna, questioning if they were arguing again. lee casually picked up the dropped artichoke, looking at mikey, and merely commented that he had only been cleaning a mess.

mikey had started the smart-ass remarks with lee, slamming the bottle opener for his beer cap on the top of the fridge. donna was still on her knees as she yelled for mikey to be kinder. lee murmurs about a lack of christmas spirit in the home but continues with his cleaning duty with donna.

the fak brothers and michelle were hidden in the bathroom, smoking a joint. they were bantering, reminiscing, and then finally in agreement. agreeing that donna was going to blow her lid. the real question now was when?

donna was cracking lobsters, progressively becoming more intoxicated by the second. you leaned against the counter watching carmen pace around the kitchen, trying to keep up with the list of demands from his mother. natalie insisted on helping, to which donna immediately declined.

jimmy entered the kitchen again. while donna was distracted, natalie looked at you and then motioned to carmen. she wiggled the half-consumed bottle of wine in disbelief. her eyes were wide upon finding that her mother had ingested another ridiculous amount of alcohol.

“...sugar instead of salt and the gravy tasted like fuckin’ hawaiian punch,” donna recounted the story of how natalie got her nickname to jimmy, casually tossing the lobster shells away as she spoke.

“at least she's not peach because she ripped her pants open to show everyone her peach underwear during the neighborhood garage sale when she tried to run on the treadmill mrs. troisi was selling,” you retorted, a hint of red filling your cheeks as jimmy patted your shoulder. mikey never let you live it down, though when most people heard the name they luckily thought it was because you were a metaphorical peach in your personality.

another timer altered the kitchen, donna shooing carmen away to fetch tiffany some saltine crackers to go with her homemade sprite. you stayed with natalie, assuming it would be best for carmen to have a minute away from family. donna went on another spiel, asking to be reminded what her timer was for and to make sure someone told her to put the bread in the oven.

carmen stood in the pantry with mikey, his agitation showing. he voiced his annoyance about being unable to work with him at the beef, though he didn’t bring up the fact that mikey was allowing you to work there; he was still stewing on that new factoid, not even having mentioned that he knew it to you. he never returned to the kitchen. mikey wanted more for carmen, just as you did, but his own personal reasons he didn't reveal were more to the reason he didn't want carmen in the restaurant with him.

sitting in the den as michelle went on some ridiculous tangent about her last name and a random woman who knew about bears, you could only agree that it was better than still being in the kitchen with donna and natalie. you finally started to relax for the first time that night, your legs crossed comfortably as you sunk into the couch cushions. lee started jabbering about sports when mikey walked past them. he looked rough. he looked off; something wasn’t right.

donna yelled from the kitchen, cursing loudly, making steven begin to stand, wanting to offer her a helping hand. even your eyes widened at this fact. how was he still going to go in there even after everyone was begging him not to bother her? steven was nice, but oblivious to the true ways of donna. you had figured it out for yourself many years ago, and now steven was about to as well.

with carmen still not back in the kitchen, donna was unraveling. she burnt the fish from the oven, staggering around trying not to drop the hot tray before slamming it on the counter, causing her wine glass to topple onto the floor. natalie was frantically trying to clean the glass shards as donna claimed that no one ever offered to help her.

donna was rambling wildly, holding natalie’s face harshly as natalie pleaded with her mother that she was okay and needed to settle down. steven, of course, was now learning his lesson as he offered his help.

“get the fuck out!” donna voiced loudly, steven standing shocked only nodded his head, awkwardly backing out of the kitchen. natalie was breathing heavily as she took the glass-filled trash bag out of the kitchen, muttering to herself as steven stopped her before going out the door. steven was now using his kindness to natalie’s advantage, wrapping her in a tight hug.

back in the den, everyone was uncomfortably listening to mikey’s incoherent story. his words were misplaced and jumbled. talking with his hands was not uncommon, but they never seemed to sit still, even if they rested they were jittering.

“we’ve heard this story a million times,” lee said, interrupting mikey’s retelling.

“no, uh, let him finish,” you spoke up, though lee only rolled his eyes.

you looked at mikey, wrapped in his brown tassel blanket. everyone trying to defuse the potential situation as mikey only seemed to be becoming more irritated the longer he went without talking.

“you sold the car and then you find the horse,” lee announced, summing up mikey’s story quickly. he sipped his drink as mikey threw his hands up in defeat, sarcastically congratulating him on ruining the moment.

lee started recounting mikey’s multiple failed business plans. michelle was trying to center the conversation back to a safe spot as jimmy walked in to join them, the tension was still present but the bickering had silenced as michelle welcomed jimmy.

“what’s going on in here?” jimmy questioned, mikey immediately perked his head up.

“this jagoff is talking shit,” he muttered about lee. lee tried to lighten the mood, playfully pointing to himself and repeating the nickname.

“i guess about how i, like, don’t finish shit,” mikey said, his expression was blank.

jimmy was in agreement, softly speaking as he nodded. mikey wasn’t the most practical of businessmen.

pete came bursting in toting a wrapped tuna casserole. like pete, you didn’t understand why there couldn’t be eight fishes, but knew that if everyone was telling him it was a bad idea then it was true. you followed the basic rule that if donna had a particular tradition to never break it. you didn't think it was necessary to cause anyone in the berzatto family any extra anger; they had enough of it genetically engineered into their veins.

carmen came to announce that dinner was ready and they were needed at the dinner table. michelle was warning everyone not to tell carmen what was in pete’s hand, but when he looked at you he rolled his eyes.

“tuna casserole,” you breathed out, a cough backing up your words. carmen began berating pete for bringing the dish. who knew that eight fishes could make someone an asshole? apparently, the berzattos knew this fact, and anyone not related to them was left to cope with whatever hell eight fishes would bring.

“don’t let her fucking see it,” carmen warned him as he walked out, though you were following behind him. natalie swiftly took the tray and threw the casserole out the door.

the table was cluttered, everyone basically sitting elbow to elbow as they all were seated. you nudged carmen with your foot and his head raised as he exhaled. you could tell this family gathering was screwing with his head. he nudged your ankle to acknowledge you, though you couldn’t tell if that was enough to settle his nerves as he mentioned going to get his mother to sit down.

carmen was once again in the kitchen. his pleas were not enough to make donna come to join the table. she would only go when she was ready. he was feeling guiltier by the second as she wouldn’t join them for dinner. he finally returned to the table, seeming more quiet than before.

steven was volunteered to say the prayer but quickly declined. michelle took his place asking about the seven fishes. lee butted in with his biblical nonsense, a fork then thwacking him in the head. everyone's face dropped at the sudden interaction. no one liked where this was headed.

mikey mimicked the sound of a buzzer. his eyes unfocused and overly amused by his actions.

“did you just throw a fork at me?” lee asked, whipping his head around to look at mikey.

“i did,” mikey said a bit too proudly. his elbows were on the table and his hands were folded until he started to speak. speaking wildly, incoherently, and maybe a little too loudly.

jimmy peeked his head forward. “what are you doing, michael?”

“he started it, uncle j,” mikey waved his hands to lee.

“mike just–” carmen started to speak until lee chimed in. “don't throw fuckin’ forks at people.”

mikey began to mock lee for speaking. richie bent his head down, trying to contain a laugh of nervousness.

“hey, fak. you using your fork?” mikey hinted. neil fak stuttered for a moment before admitting that he needed his utensil. fak tried to convince mikey not to take the fork, but soon the silverware was inching away from him.

“please–” fak mumbled, trying to keep his voice neutral. it was as though he was trying to defuse a bomb.

“i just need to borrow it for one second,” mikey said, raising the silverware in his hand and waving it teasingly. you were now chirping with the rest of the crowd for him to set the fork down.

it hit lee in the forehead again.

“i threw the fork, lee,” mikey said, covering his mouth as he spoke. his wide eyes fixated on lee.

“cousin, you're scaring the normals,” richie jests, trying to lighten the mood.

“mikey–” you uttered, clearing your throat, though he didn't pay you any mind.

your eyes were fixed on mikey. your hand was under the table rubbing carmen's knee gently. you now understood more of the reason you needed to be present for him tonight. carmen massaged his temples, shutting his eyes tightly.

“you see, i can throw forks ‘cause this is our father’s house,” mikey was blabbering. that disturbed look in his eye still present.

“rich,” lee called upon mikey's friend, hoping he could do something to stop mikey.

“my father's house,” mikey continued.

“we have lift off,” commented michelle.

lee pestered mikey again, but not in some playful way. a true jab about his stories again. the laugh mikey was not out of fun. mikey was hunched over as he chuckled.

“tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and other suckers who'll listen to your bullshit,” lee spat, silencing everyone else at the table for a moment.

“lee, shut the fuck up,” jimmy warned, though he was silenced the moment lee pinned him as one of the suckers mikey was mooching off of.

“unc, it’s fine,” mikey said, a wide smile across his face, though his face dropped as lee continued to speak.

“because this guy's nothing and he's nobody,” lee taunted. mikey's mouth was agape, but lee continued. “and i know you're-you're scared and you're afraid, aren't you, michael? and michael i don’t know what the fuck you’re on, but whatever it is, if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me and you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked.”

lee and mikey stared at each other for a moment. no one else dared to make any sudden movements. you halted rubbing carmen's knee, like everyone else you were wondering how far the situation was going to escalate.

mikey rubbed his beard, just under his nose. “hey petey,” he coaxed. pete was reluctant to look at mikey.

“you think i could just, like, borrow that for one second? i just…” there was a small clattering of utensils as mikey picked up pete's fork, and an even louder bunch of voices chimed in to warn mikey to halt his actions. you knew that this wasn't going to stop mikey. mikey had already made up his mind after the first fork he threw.

mikey looked at natalie, his fork in position for launch. she was begging him not to throw it. he stopped moving when she spoke.

“i love you, okay?” sugar spoke softly, though mikey never lowered the fork.

“i love you too, sug,” mikey had a nod going as he spoke, the fork still tightly in his hand.

“i'm begging you,” sugar expressed sternly, though ot raising her tone.

steven gave an embarrassing laugh. “i'm sorry. i giggle when i get nervous,” he admitted, glancing around at the family next to him.

mikey was taken out of sugar's trance. he was waving the fork sporadically as he spoke. he was assuring steven that it was okay for his outburst. though as he kept insisting that it was okay to laugh jimmy spoke up. “michael, i need you to calm down, buddy, alright?” jimmy much like everyone else, was uncomfortable with the tension-filled room.

“mike–” carmen warned, his brother,

“there’s other people at the table, i need you to calm down,” jimmy explained, peering around the table at the confused and frightened faces. “you're being a bit of an asshole,” jimmy added, hoping mikey would see how unacceptable his behavior was.

though, mikey, high on whatever substance he was on started smiling again. “thank you, uncle j, but i'm fine.” no one could believe this fact seeing as moments before he launched two other forks across the table at lee's head and was still holding the third.

after a sarcastic comment from lee, jimmy confirmed that along with michael being an asshole, lee fit the bill. mikey also thanked jimmy for that comment. just a table with two assholes and a bunch of bystanders internally pleading that mikey would drop the fork that was in his hand.

“go ahead,” lee taunted. “let's go,” he coaxed. “fuckin’ throw it.”

mikey licked his bottom lip, the fork still waving in his hand. “yeah?”

“yeah, throw it or put it down,” lee threatened. it was followed by a weak chuckle from mikey.

“you bite lee? is that what you do?” mikey counters, his eyes darting around the table before going back to lee.

“for fucksake, your mother's been workin' for fucking days, making this meal. have some respect. there's other people at this fucking table!” jimmy scolded mikey.

“throw the fuckin’ fork,” lee insisted, though his hands went to cover his face.

“oh, would you look at that? i didn't throw it! i didn't throw it, you fuckin’ pussy!” mikey was towering over the table as he rose from his seat, aiming to throw it again. he only got louder and more entertained in this sick game as lee went to cover himself again. “you fuckin’ flinched! look, you did it again, you fucking pussy!” mikey announced louder, flicking the utensil again.

“throw it,” lee grunted as mikey sat back down. “i'm not on anything. i flinch,” lee threw another verbal jab in mikey's direction. “i still--my brain's connected to my nerves, you monster.”

“yeah, i'm a monster, lee,” mikey mocked. the entire table was in disbelief as the argument continued.

“you're a loser fuckin monster,” lee remarked with a sneer.

“nobody wants you here with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey said, puffing his chest out a bit more. “with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey repeated with a scoff. he slammed his hand into the table, making a few glasses shake.

“fuckin’ throw it,”

“yeah?”

“go ahead, fuckin’ throw it you fucking animal,”

“yeah?” mikey was screeching in a similar tone to that of a rabid animal.

“yeah, make it about you. make christmas about you,” lee sneered. “throw the fucking fork.” he urged again. though lee didn't stop talking. “you’re nothing.”

“you’re nothing,” lee reiterated. “you're nothing.” a third time. lee paused, gritting his teeth. “you are nothing.” and again. “you’re nothing.” lee didn't stop. mikey's eyebrows fell as lee said it again. “you’re nothing.” lee continued to repeat those demeaning words until donna walked into the dining area.

everyone was applauding her, putting on a happy face, wishing her a happy holiday and a merry christmas. donna looked as though she had been crying, her makeup smudged, and her blonde hair looked like she had been pulling at it with annoyance.

cigarette in one hand and wine in the other, donna sat at the head of the table closest to the china cabinet. it was deadly silent.

“what'd i miss?” she interjected the silence with a giddy tone in her voice.

lee looked to donna, “nothing,” he commented, waving his hands though his tone was not as fierce as it previously was with mikey.

“i missed something,” donna insisted, knowing the chaotic household was never so silent.

“no, no, no,” mikey denied, luckily donna didn't press any further. “stevie's about to say grace, ma,” he added, waving the fork.

steven was trying to politely decline, but the more steven said no the more mikey wanted to press him.

“just fuckin’ say the thing, okay?” mikey urged, as his mother pawed at her hair.

michelle in hopes of keeping the table at a simmer presses further for steven to say the blessing over the food. steven, as awkward as he is, took the challenge, although he was most likely following michelle's lead in wanting mikey, lee, and donna to act semi-normal for the rest of the night.

“hey, uh, it's great that we're all together, um, and healthy, i think,” steven began, michelle producing a slight giggle as he spoke. “uh, no one’s si–physically very sick.”

was he referring to mikey or donna or both? hell, maybe he was referring to himself and decided to include the rest of the group with him because it was probably true.

“i'm so grateful, um, for this beautiful meal,” steven paused looking to donna, “and donna, um, what an incredible job donna did. and i-i could hear in there. it sounded very hard and it's just gorgeous,”

donna had an impeccably large smile on her face, pride washing over her as her painstaking work had been acknowledged. her hands clasped together with gratitude as though she had won the oscar nomination for best actress.

“and is he still holding the fork?” steven asked nervously. mikey looked up, the base of the fork shoved in the center of his praying hands.

“sure is,” jimmy confirmed, steven paused for a moment before finding his way back to his prayer he wasn't prepared for.

“okay, um, listen” steven announced, though he was stalling for more time to find another topic. stalling to ensure that mikey would put down that goddamn fork and allow dinner to finish on a peaceful note. “what is the seven fishes or why do we do it?” steven nodded his head, the other’s seated at the table were now focused on steven speaking rather than blankly and nervously staring at the table. “i think i know what my definition is,” steven swallowed hard, his mouth dry, trying to accumulate more words. “uh, as soon as i think of it…it's a chance to be together and to take care of each other.” donna took a drag from her cigarette quickly so her hands could fold together in prayer as steven continued to speak. it was as though all his yammering was to talk mikey off of the ledge he had placed himself on, hoping that it would be enough to force him to drop his borrowed fork.

“and to eat together. and there's seven fishes, which means you have to make seven entirely different dishes. seven entirely different ways. and that takes a lot of time, and i think spending that time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them,” donna was practically in tears as steven spoke of love and togetherness. maybe that’s all she wanted, love and togetherness. holidays were hard enough, but maybe she needed familial support rather than criticism. though it was hard not to criticize her or anyone else at the table because of their unwillingness to get help for their issues. they all complained of each other’s anger and hostility but never complained of their own.

“…and maybe we eat too much…and we definitely drink too much, and we say too much without listening, but tonight w-we're gonna eat seven fishes which is absurd,” michelle gave a small chuckle at steven's quips in his blessing.

“but we have to take extra time to do it and we have to chew more and we have to listen more. and, uh, we only get to do this tonight one time, so i, by the way, love it. i love being here. thank you for having me every year at this. i look…i very much look forward to this. and i love you,” he said looking towards michelle, her eyes fluttering at his sweet devotion.

“i-i-i’m very in love with michelle, and i'm not gay like you guys asked a lot, but i was thinking about what you said about bears and how they're aggressive,” steven continued to chatter, though his gaze only on michelle now.

“they're aggressive, but they're kind…they're sensitive,” his gaze was genuinely loving and of light as he looked at michelle.

“you guys have been so kind to me. you guys let me hang out with you every holiday. i don’t have a family like this and i'm really grateful that, um, you make space for me at this table and time for me on the holidays,”

“may god bless us and keep us safe in the new year, and please give michael the strength not to throw that fork, amen,” steven concluded, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. michelle wrapped him in a tight embrace as they uttered soft ‘i love yous’ to each other.

“stevie, that was, uh, that was beautiful,” mikey commented.

donna was wiping her final tears away with a sigh. her wrinkled hands brought her cigarette to her mouth again. “it doesn't fuckin’ matter,” she muttered, her eyes closed tightly.

carmen was scratching his temple as he looked at his mother. his hand was now on yours that had been still sitting on his knee from earlier. his palm was sweaty, probably from the overwhelming amount of stress that the holiday was causing him.

“no, donna, it’s great,” you uttered as everyone else at the table tried to send their praises to her. everyone's attention was on her, trying to coax her into a better mindset.

the only one that didn't attempt to say anything was carmen, his jaw clenched tightly as he saw donna begin to exhale.

“you okay?” sugar whispered, carmen's head flipping to look at his sister. everyone at the table closed their eyes in dismay. everyone had made it through conversations, pete’s eighth fish, lee's belittling, mikey's two fork throws, and steven's version of grace, but they all knew they couldn't escape this.

sug…no…sugar

“oh, natalie rose berzatto,” donna’s eyes were closed as she leaned back in her chair, only opening them when she flicked her head towards her middle child. “do you know how much i hate when you ask me that?”

natalie's mouth was agape, trying to avoid eye contact with her mother.

mikey had dropped pete’s fork on the table he ran his hands through his hair. his petty fork throws were nothing in comparison to the hurricane that was brewing across the table.

“do you know how much i fuckin’ hate when you ask me that?” donna's teeth were gritted, a maniacal laugh surfacing as she spoke so harshly to natalie. “do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?”

“no,” a simple answer spouted from sweet natalie, though donna wouldn't let her get any other words in as she was so keen on speaking over her daughter.

“do i not look okay, natalie?”

“not really,” michelle was saying what everyone else was thinking, though now donna's attention was now on the other side of the table.

“oh, fuck you, michelle,” donna spat. “i do not look okay? did i not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers?”

“i didn't mean it like that,” michelle uttered, though her shoulders dropped. she looked defeated and unheard.

donna stood from her chair, gesturing towards the table. “this is beautiful!” she exclaimed waving and shaking her hands wildly. “am i okay? am i okay? are you motherfuckers okay?”

she was screaming, her eyes wandering across the family and friends sitting in their chairs. “are you okay, lee?” she sneered.

“you didn't do shit! this is fucking gorgeous! fuck you!” donna was slurring her words the louder she became. she threw a plate to the ground. “fuck you!” she concluded, stomping away after giving her final curses to natalie.

“it's okay,” michelle quickly and quietly tried to tend to natalie by rubbing her arm.

you squeezed carmen's knee. you needed him to know you were still there. you were witnessing this with him.

lee looked from left to right with a shrug. “well, i guess we all knew that was gonna happen. so it's out. and, uh, maybe everybody, everybody can relax, huh?” he suggested, taking a breath. though mikey didn't seem as convinced with this advice.

“that's the worst i've ever seen her,” michelle mentioned, not to be rude, but to possibly try and lighten the unfortunate situation they were all now a part of.

the clattering of silverware was heard through the dining area. mikey cocked his arm back and launched the fork at lee's head.

lee hopped up in an instant. “you fuckin’ piece of shit!”

michael flipped the table, every dish and placemat was now on the floor as lee and mikey charged toward each other. the fak brothers immediately tried to hold the two men back as everyone else tried to get as far away from the chaos as possible. jimmy was screaming, hell, everyone was screaming at each other.

carmen managed to pull you close to the back wall nearest the dessert. you willingly followed his harsh tugging on your hand not wanting to get in the midst of more chaos than needed.

richie pushed tiffany towards jimmy, wanting her safety to remain intact as he went to pull mikey away from lee. richie was almost immediately forced away by mikey with an overpowering shove. the faks were still attempting to hold the men apart from each other when there was a loud crash.

donna had rammed her car through the foyer. she had gone through the front of the home, squandering the christmas tree and the remaining sanity of the rest of the guests. that was what caused mikey to rush to donna, snap out of his anger with lee, and come to her rescue. he was beating on the driver's side window.

“ma, what did you do?!” he was repeating it over and over trying to make her open her car door. donna remained locked in the car, but mikey's banging only became more forceful as donna was laughing. “open the door, ma!”

christmas was a sick joke. donna had turned the script. she won a trophy for the most narcissistic member of family dinner.

carmen was staring at a pile of pistachio-crusted cannolis topped with powdered sugar, but his main focus was the silver fork, the third and final fork, sticking out of the sweet dessert.

natalie, sugar, whoever she was, the middle child of the berzattos sat in her chair, shocked into place, staring wide-eyed at the misfortune of the holiday.

you didn't exactly remember how you and carmen ended up outside, but the chilly chicago air was calming the nerves of the both of you. carmen was pacing, chain-smoking cigarettes as you stared at him. it was a long moment of silence, though after begging for quiet earlier it only felt worse now.

the christmas lights illuminated him perfectly as he stopped and turned to look at you. his mind had calmed down to a dull roar and flicked the ash from his final smoke. carmen had enough of dealing with “mom duty.” he was done with family. it was peach and bear together again.

“why the hell did you not tell me you were working in the restaurant?” carmen asked with a huff, though he was looking past you into the window of his childhood home. carmen was deflecting; he didn't want to think of any of tonight's events.

“bear, i–”

“peach, what the hell were you thinking?”

i'm not thinking. not about that right now at least. i'm thinking about the car through the house we used to play in and how your brother, my boss, just went ape shit on your mom's boyfriend.

“i was thinking that i needed a job, and no one else would hire me with my schedule,” you admitted, tilting your head while your eyebrows furrowed.

“mikey, fuckin’, asshole,” carmen crossed his arms, stamping out the cigarette butt he threw to the ground. his pile was complete though his muscle memory reached for the package in his pocket until he grunted finding the package in a crumpled ball next to his lighter. “h-he hires you to fuckin’ stare and never gave me half of a goddamn chance,”

“it's not like that. i bag sandwiches and make less than minimum wage,” you held your temples, leaning against the siding of the house. “you're a chef. a good fuckin’ chef, and you want to work at some shithole that can barely pay to keep the lights on?”

“that's not what i'm trying to say and you know it,” carmen huffed, stepping closer to you, trying not to alert the neighbors of any more dysfunction from the household. there were already enough of them standing outside of their homes looking at the new garage donna had installed.

“bear, i have been picking up the pieces of that restaurant for the past nine months, and not once have i complained to you or even mentioned it because i know the shit that goes on there is only going to drag you down,” you explained though your chest felt heavy and empty. nine months of confusion, busting your ass, using every inch of the backbone you had to grow, and only watching a steady decline in the restaurant.

“y/n, i never asked you to do it! i don't need to be looked after like a damn child,” he spat. he was gripping the back of his hair trying to keep his anger contained. it only spiraled so quickly because his mind was reliving every moment from the night.

“carmen,” you crossed your arms. your expression had dropped. your nails were digging into the palms of your hands. “you let them drag you back into this every time. you continue to let them suck you into the ridiculousness and hysteria. how many times are you going to let them keep doing this to you? because every time i beg you to do something better you turn around and let them squander everything.”

“so i'm supposed to leave and never come back? it’s my fault for letting them do it? like i don't already have enough to worry about now i have to let this go so easily? like i'm trying to fix myself, make myself better by doing something for my career and you're mad because i come home for christmas,” carmen scoffed, as he only stepped closer.

“carmen, have you not listened to a word i've said? let me try again, you can't keep coming back because they ruin you.”

“why are you in that fuckin’ restaurant then? why do you care so much?”

“because i don't want them to call you and bring you back to the hell you're crawling out of because i fucking care about you! i have no connection to them other than you! i'm almost done here in chicago and i don't want to have to leave and know you've been coerced back because of the people that are always hurting you,” you exhaled, trying to contain yourself though carmen was frustrating you. your expression never softened. your head was pounding from the night's volume level being at a constant high. “you barely talk to me anymore because we always have this same conversation.”

carmen stared blankly. he released the grip on the back of his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. he was so conflicted. he wanted to be the best he could be. he wanted more than who he was raised to be, but then struggled in knowing that he would probably always fall back on his berzatto instincts. angry, spiteful, grudge-holding people who were almost always mentally ill.

“we barely talk anymore because i'm scared to ruin everything i have with you. i have years with you, and you have always tried so goddamn hard to help me, but y-you're right it's the same shit every year, every fuckin’ year,” carmen admitted, though he didn't want to make eye contact with you.

“you are only going to ruin this friendship if you keep pushing me away. i want to see you succeed and thrive. do you think it’s fun when i keep having to see you hurt?” you mumbled, unwilling to see his mental health decline any further. you couldn’t bear to keep seeing someone you cared so deeply for continue to be walked over, criticized, and disregarded.

“no, but damn, like, i keep failing every time i come back. failing you because i can never seem to listen. i keep thinking things will be different and every time i’m wrong i have the urge to keep coming back to see it become right.” carmen was pacing as he spoke, but the moment he stopped he managed to slide down the side of the house next to you. he crouched on his knees as he looked up at you.

“you’re so wrapped up in everything else you can’t see what’s in front of you. you have a career. jesus, you have me, bear.” you uttered with a sigh, as you slid down next to him. his hand immediately found your hand that was resting on your thigh and gently began to trace lines onto your knuckles.

“peach, be realistic, it’s not just about me,” you rolled your eyes at his comment and shook your head.

“your life is all about you, carmen. you can control it and you can decide who you want in your life. my best suggestion is to only let those in who care. stop running away from what you want because you feel tied to your shitty family in chicago. is it just easier to hide it under your pride?” your head leaned against his shoulder, and carmen only continued to play with your hand as the tow truck meticulously tried to back into the driveway of the house to pull donna’s car out of the house.

“how am i not supposed to run?” carmen asked stifling a laugh, watching the scene intently.

“keep dedicating yourself to it. you’ve done a helluva good job so far, keep it up,” you encouraged, sighing at the car being pulled out of the house. you were only grateful no other family members bothering you both.

it was a long spell of silence, but carmen stopped rubbing your hand. he cleared his throat, making you turn your head towards him.

“i care about you too…like, l-like peach, i really fuckin’ care,” carmen admitted thinking about what you had said earlier.

“i never have stopped caring, bear,” you confessed, moving to sit flat on the ground. your hands raked through the grass nervously, never having admitted any feeling towards him in the many years of knowing him.

“i-i don’t know how to do any of this, or know anything about how to deal with this,” carmen fixated on your eyes with something vulnerable in them.

“you don’t have to know right now. you don’t have to rush with me, but you need to focus on being healthy and working for what you want,” you comforted him, being lost in the blue pools in front of you.

“i want you, peach,” he confirmed, nodding slowly, his hand caressing your cheek. “it’s going to take a while to figure you out, and fuck, i’ve known you longer than i’ve been able to cook, but i’ll be damned if i keep letting you go again, or letting my brother try and smooth talk you for me.”

“keep working then, bear, i’ll always be here.” a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into his side.

christmas would likely never be the same for you and carmen. each year that passed you saw carmen in the news, each time growing into a more successful person. you were proud of him. you regularly kept in touch, both of you just waiting for the right moment. each of you were so involved in your careers away from chicago, but still so involved with each other.

it wasn’t until carmen took over the beef that you knew he was back in chicago. you always wondered why he had gone back after being so adamant to stay away, but the moment he was back you were back with him. visiting his apartment, wondering why he had jeans in his oven, reminiscing on the good times, and trying to talk through the bad.

thinking back to the eventful christmas holiday carmen often mentioned to you how mikey and richie pestered him about you, and he hated admitting it, but they were right. you were the love of his life. the one that was always there. the one that was patient. the one that waited. the one that kept him grounded.

he missed mikey, well, he missed who he remembered mikey to be. every time he uncovered a new terrible part of his past he would call you, trying to talk through the emotions rather than dwelling on them and having a massive and uncontrollable berzatto outburst. his anxiety would never be gone and his perfectionism ruled his life, but you allowed it to be easier managed.

it was peach and bear again because it was always just meant to be peach and bear no matter how long it took, how many arguments were had, no matter how many messages were unsent, and no matter how many times they left each other only to find one another again.

[starboye]

starring: carmy berzatto x male reader

request: Imagine carmy buys one of those sex toys that is a silicon torso with a pussy and ass to fuck. Carmy totally slips the stolen panties on it and pretends to seduce and finger then fuck femboy reader before cumming hard and deep inside it. Maybe even breaking it with how hard he thrusts and how big his cock is. Totally can see him breaking and cumming hard and hitting his own face.

warnings: smut, cursing, pervy!carmy, sex toy

he needed you so bad, so bad it hurt even and as much as he wanted to bend you over and ram his dick into you until you were as obsessed with him as he was with you, but realistically that wasn't gonna happen so he settled for the third best option (you don't wanna heard about the second option).

he bought a silicon ass to fuck, the moment it delivered to his door and he unwrapped it his cock was straining to be let out and into it, he slipped your stolen underwear, that of which he got from your apartment when he was over one day, it's not like he purposely took the underwear, it was just laying around on the floor so he didn't wanna leave it there and risk someone else getting it.

the pair of underwear ending up in his nightstand and covered in cum is really unknown to him but anywho, he slips it one and quickly his mind starts imagining it was you, right under him layed back on his bed begging him to shove his cock in and how could he deny you.

slowly pushing his tip into the rubbery material and sinking in all the way to the base with a choked back moan, this was way better than jerking off that's for sure, his hips shuddered back and forth into the makeshift hole, the underwear helped with the image of you under him, cooing for him to go faster and faster.

he grips the plastic tightly and snaps his hips back and forth into it, small plaps being heard but his needy little groans growing louder and louder than those "fuck y/n you feel so good" he moans out, a bulge appearing in the toy, stretching it further and further until a tear appears in it slightly but he couldn't care less.

"shit shit shit" he curses, his thrusts becoming so strong that they break the top of the fake ass open and he quickly cums, some shooting onto his face but the rest flying all over his bed, his breath heavy as his mind speeds up with his body and sees the mess he made, quickly cleaning it all up before taking the toy and almost putting it away, he does have a free day so what's the worse that could happen.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09

[floralpools]

Competition

Warnings: Smut, M!receiving, penetration (w protection), language, enemies (ish) to lovers

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x reader

Summary: After "Beef's" rebranding as "The Bear," business at your cafe has declined, which left you furious, and that anger only worsened after meeting the restaurant's owner.

Word count: 3.4k

...

Ever since I was young, I've always had this unnecessary, aggressive competitiveness, which has only grown since its opening; The Bear, formerly known as "Beef," has become Chicago's newest hit. Its success has been so impactful, that it's driven away numerous customers, including regulars from my spot, just across the street.

My cafe has been open for years. Its income has been steady from the get-go, and the presence of a certain sandwich shop has never deterred that. Not until said sandwich place suddenly turned into a high-end restaurant. It crossed my mind that it simply shut down due to its infamous unpopularity, but Richie was still waltzing into my cafe to order coffee, as per usual.

So, being curious enough about what had happened to "The Beef," I go visit, expecting to be greeted by the "ever-so-pleasant" owner, Michael. But instead—

"Uh, he died," Neil mutters rather awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. My eyes expand in complete shock.

"Oh my god, sorry, I had no idea." I grimace at my lack of sensitivity. "It's alright." He shakes his head.

Silence envelops us both before I speak again. "So, um, how come you're still here? If you don't mind me asking?" I grimace again at my poor choice of words, saying, "I swear I'm not trying to be rude." Neil tilts his head in confusion. "Whatta mean?"

"I just assumed you wouldn't be, here, since...?"

"Ah, yeah, Mike left the place to his little bro, Carmy." He waves his arms around, gesturing to the restaurant's interior. "And he did all this, sick right?"

"Yeah... Sick." I mumble with a pout, failing to hide my contempt, but my sour mood goes right over his head.

"Fak!" A man's loud, demanding voice, quiets my rearing thoughts. "Fak! What the fuck are you doing? I need you in here." The voice grows stronger as the chef it belongs to pushes through the kitchen doors. I just about hold my breath at the sight of him. In his all-white get-up, his deep blue eyes have yet to notice me, as he addresses Neil angrily. "The fucking toilet's still broken." He throws his arm up in frustration, "So would you please, get off your ass and fix it!" He commands Neil, and I jump at his dangerous tone. My brows furrow. There was no need for him to shout so rudely, not to mention that it was really bothering me, how he had yet to acknowledge my presence even once. Not only was he stealing my business, but he didn't give a rats-ass about it.

"Shit! Yeah, on it! I was just talking to—"

"Y/n." I announce my name roughly, and his eyes bounce from Neil to me instantly. Appearing startled, he hesitates to extend his palm for a handshake. "Carmy, sorry about him—" Just as he begins waving off Fak, apologizing for his behaviour, I snap.

"No, he was the perfect gentleman, as always," I protest, "I just came to check on the competition." Carmy's brows knit together, and I can feel the vein in my forehead pop out. "I own the cafe across the street," I state plainly, and he slowly nods in recognition. "It was nice to see you, have a great day," I commend with a smile, directed only to Neil. With that, I spin out the door, stomping vigorously towards my shop.

...

The next time I saw Carmy was nearly a month later, on garbage day. He happened to be taking the trash out that evening, exactly when I was. I sigh at how little he struggles to lift several trash bags. Looking away, I huff as I throw the plastic sacks into the massive tin container. After finishing, I stretch out my back, rubbing my hands together. Shortly rolling my head back, I observe the evening sky. I exhale, releasing a breath of cool air from my lips.

My skin pricks as I feel someone watching me and shift my gaze towards "The Bear." I instantly identify the sapphire eyes latched onto me. When I catch Carmy, his eyes fly in every which direction, clearly embarrassed. 'The hell? Okay dickhead, hello to you too.' I think, shaking my head as I go inside, once again, feeling the heat of his stare as I do.

An hour later, I complete the last of my chores before locking up the cafe. Removing the key from the door, I pivot towards my car. However, I stumble when a figure standing not far behind me approaches, causing me to unleash a horrid scream from the depths of my throat. Carmy's eyes widen, evidently apologetic and equally terrified. "Uh sorry! I didn't mean—"

"What the actual fuck, is your problem?" I practically hiss.

"Sorry, I was thinking about saying something before you turned around. But then I second-guessed myself and just did nothing," Carmy blabbers, "I'm really really sorry."

"Okay okay." I put up my hands in surrender to stop his rambling. It's rather disarming, after our first meeting, hearing how he sounds so... Timid. "Sorry." He mumbles once more, head hung low.

"You're good," I reassure him with a sigh, to cover up an unexpected giggle. "Um, so what're you doing, here?"

"Oh!" He jolts upright and his eyes shoot from the ground to mine. "I just wanted to uh, talk."

"You 'wanted to talk'?" I question, a brow arching in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah," Carmy replies with uncertainty.

Folding my arms, I sigh, "About?"

"Oh, um, just about, how I acted when we met," Carmy scowls at the memory. "I should've introduced myself way sooner, and not in such a—"

"Rude way," I interject, which seems to be a common occurrence between us.

"Heard." He huffs out what sounds like a laugh, "Exactly that." I then shift uncomfortably under his intense watch. "It's alright, I didn't exactly intend to be gracious myself," I utter, returning a similar, shy smile.

"No, no." His smile widens, "You were..." He and his gaze trail off, lowering to the concrete. "'Were'?" I repeat, imploring him to continue.

"Great." Carmy finishes, peering up again. His eyes appear somewhat different, and I feel an unfamiliar chill slide down my spine. "Wow." My eyebrows rise. "'Great,' that's a, really, kind of you," I splutter with a chuckle. Carmy joins in, laughing at himself.

After a beat of silence and a few stolen glances at one another, Carmy speaks up. "I know I should've said it a while ago, but I'd like to be on good terms, rather than 'competition'." My sight hones in on his active hands as they switch between fiddling with his back pockets and shaking. "I'd like that too," I murmur, scratching the back of my head. "If only you'd stop stealing my customers," I smirk.

"Oh?" He smiles playfully and tilts his head, "So that's how it's gonna be," he jests, laughing again.

"Hmmm," I hum in confirmation, slightly troubled by how flirtatious I'm being. But damn, the way he's always looking at me —it's throwing me off...

Flushed, I conclude our conversation, "I'll see you around," then walk to my car. He almost, absentmindedly, wanders alongside me. "Yeah, see you."

While I unlock my car, Carmy's already one step ahead of me, hauling the car door open. I thank him in a whisper as I bend into the front seat, brushing past him, and he tenses. He then mumbles my name with a "Goodnight," and I sit in silence, long after he leaves, breathless.

...

The next day, I feel giddy at the prospect of seeing Carmy. It's ridiculous, considering he was my neighbour, and I was bound to see him. Though I've actually had to refrain from seeking him out.

However, that afternoon, through the glass of both our eateries, we see one another, pause, smile slowly, and head back to work.

From that point on, that sort of thing became a routine. Every day that week, I saw him for at least 50 seconds. It was even better knowing he was a chef, so the likelihood of him seeing him out front was low, but still, each time he'd be there.

Come Sunday, I couldn't delay things any longer. It was a little disheartening that he hadn't come over himself or even thought to come and ask for my number.

Thus, I knew I had to be the one to make a move. So, after closing earlier than usual, I saunter across the street. Inside, Neil greets me with an ample smile. "Hey Neil," I wave. He virtually shouts my name in return. "Hey! What you in for?" He asks cheerfully.

"I was hoping for some dinner," I chuckle. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and the anticipation is killing me. While Neil leads me to a table, my eyes don't leave the kitchen's entrance.

Neil takes my order, and my ears attentively listen for those few moments, when the restaurant's crowd temporarily quiets down, and I hear his assertive voice filter through the walls.

...

As delicious as my meal is, I can't stop my anxiety from getting the best of me. It's plausible Neil didn't bother letting Carmy know that I was here. But I'm nearly vibrating with dread, waiting for him to materialize.

Eventually, it's closing time and the herd of patrons leave. I take the opportunity to call Neil over. "Hey, I was just wondering if Carmy was in? Just wanna say hello, be neighbourly and all," I beam innocently.

"Course!" He winks but doesn't move to get Carmy. So, after a long beat staring into Fak's clueless eyes (bless him), I come up with something dicey. "Could you let him know that my food's uncooked, and I'm very, very upset," I express sharply, biting back a grin.

"O-okay?" Neil stutters, confusion and distress written across his features. I suppress my laugh with my palm.

Five minutes later, I hear a loud and hostile "what" seep through the walls. My attempts to muffle my laughter are stumped when Carmy abruptly bursts through the doors. He freezes when he sees me, and I watch the doors rapidly swing behind him. I awkwardly raise my hand in hello, and I swear he gulps.

"I was joking, Carmy." Now growing nervous, I tear my eyes away from him, onto my clear plate and see him move towards me from my peripheral. "It was, pretty good actually," I remark, downplaying the truth.

As I open my mouth to fill the silence, I peek up to see Carmy sitting right in front of me, and I lose my train of thought. It's as though we're on a date, and that's the most normal thing in the world, something we've done countless times before.

"I was planning on coming to see you after work." His sheepish, yet deep timbre makes me shudder.

"Beat you to it then?" I smirk smugly.

"Didn't we say this wasn't a rivalry?" He smirks back, and my stomach forms knots. "Nothing wrong with some friendly competition," I retort, and his reply is a simple, pleasant smile.

"Well Chef, I'm sorry to hear you're closing soon," I sigh. Still smiling, he raises his brows, "Because?"

"Because the food was decent, but I'm still quite hungry." I proclaim teasingly, shrugging. He chuckles lowly, "We can't have that."

...

Now sitting on Carmy's kitchen stool while he cooks me an omelet on his stove, I inspect his backside. The muscles tense and shift as he moves expertly through the room.

"I hope this suits your refined palette," Carmy remarks with a certain ease that he didn't have before. He pushes a plate towards me, and I reel at how domestic this all feels. I lick my lips in excitement as the delicious, potent smell of the dish consumes my senses.

Taking a bite, I withhold a moan, and close my eyes so he doesn't catch them rolling to the back of my head. Swallowing, I open my lids to see Carmy's eyes studying me, expectingly awaiting a reaction. "It's alright," I state monotonously.

Eyes and mouth expanding, he smacks his hands on his chest, overlapping them over top of his heart, like he's been shot, and a laugh escapes me. "I make it better," I contest.

"I don't doubt that," he responds without a hint of condescension, and I gape at him before giggling nervously, eyeing my omelette.

"So, what would satisfy your elite tastes?" His words may be rather suggestive, but his tone is short and reserved. Glancing up at his expression, I note the way he sluggishly runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His view then trains over my features, lingering on my lips...

Not giving him a chance to refocus on anything but my mouth, I lunge at his. Capturing his lips with mine, I hear a fumble of noises leave him pitifully. The sounds morph into a mixture of bewilderment and a cavernous groan. His hesitancy is brief as one of his hands curves behind my head, into my hair, while the other gropes my waist, bunching up my shirt in a tight fist. His groaning becomes more brazen, and I devour every single one.

Our tongues fight each other, and our hips wrestle with the kitchen island that separates us. Determined to feel more of him, I pull away from his wretched kiss. He instinctively chases after me, but my hands firmly press against his chest, which seems to bring his attention to my eyes. He more or less whines to himself.

I lick my swollen lips, holding eye contact in hopes it would help him understand what I wanted.

His grasp moves from my torso, to hold my hand, tugging me towards what I assume is his bedroom. As he maneuvers around the counter, I decide that I just can't wait. So, when we pass his living room area, I drag him back, and to his surprise, shove him onto his couch.

His back hits the cushions and he releases a grunt. Immediately, I straddle his hips and he makes haste to grip my hips, pressing me further onto his crotch. I whimper nosily, and it's his turn to hum back. "You're so..."

"Great?" I quip.

"Beautiful, is what I was gonna say— should've said." His baby blues melt me to my core. The intimacy of his look and words, somehow mean so much more, than everything we've just done.

After a short break of just breathing in each other, I press my lips to his gently, pecking them. This seems to snap him out of whatever trance he's under, as a peck is clearly not enough.

His hefty grip on my hips increases and encourages me to lean closer. His mouth dictates my every move and sound, and I wriggle above him. "Carmy," I whine desperately, begging for more.

He lets go of me to strip, sitting upright to remove his white-collar shirt. I moan at the sight, before copying him, working my shirt off. When I struggle, he rips the cotton over my head, throwing it to the floor in one swift motion. His mouth quickly draws me back in, nibbling my bottom lip.

Breaking away, I whisper, "As good as you taste, this isn't enough to satisfy me, Chef." Peering up at me through hooded eyes, he looks dazed but nods nonetheless.

My breath hitches as Carmy rears me onto my back, moving us so that his larger frame hovers over my smaller one. He unbuckles his belt clumsily and glides his jeans down his stocky thighs. I chew my lip as I gawk at the impressive bulge tucked into his black briefs. When he reaches for my bra clip, he freezes. "Shit," he exclaims airily, shoving a hand into his curly locks. I flinch, stammering, "W-what?"

"Condom," he states flatly.

"You ran out?" I joke, brows lifting.

"No, I don't do this often," he discloses, ears reddening. Silence eats up the space, and allows us to register what Carmy so bluntly, admitted. Not that I minded at all.

"I have had sex before—"

"I know," I squeal, guffawing at his prompt confession. "I think I have some in my purse." I soothe, encircling his bicep with my index finger. He lets out a sigh of relief, and I giggle like a schoolgirl when he springs to his feet, racing towards my bag.

Carmy's footsteps thud against the floorboards as he races away, half-naked. I fasten my lips together to prevent an extensive grin. When he reenters the room, I lift my body weight onto my forearms for support, cruising my eyes over his body, spying the condom between his dense fingers.

When he straddles my legs, meaning to resume where he left off, an impulse consumes my thoughts. Wordlessly, I place my palms on his thighs, spreading my digits atop his sturdy legs, to push him back. Then, kneeling on the floor in front of Carmy, I smile devilishly. I feel him trembling and the whole scene feels so erotic.

Looking up, I catch his gaze, as it adorns me, in a sort of awe. "There's something I have been craving, Chef," I murmur whilst running my tongue over my teeth. Carmy shudders as my fingers weave into his waistband, tugging them down.

While he's undressing, his briefs hanging on his chaves, I admire how his eyes flutter shut, and he mumbles nonsense to himself.

His cock engulfs my sight and brushes my cheek a bit. Carmy sucks in a sharp breath, tilting his head to watch me. Despite being taken aback by his size, I begin to stoke him. He gasps and his stomach constricts immediately.

Picking up my pace after a few pumps, I kiss his tip and his thighs shake. "Christ," he mewls. I take his noisy reaction as an encouragement to surge forward, wrapping my tongue and lips over him, and driving his cock to the back of my throat. "Fuck!" Carmy shouts.

As he gets closer to the edge, his words of appraisal jumble together in fits of, "yes, like that," "faster," and some "perfect" comments, among many other things I can't comprehend anymore. I'm lost in his touch, which tangles my hair, clasping it tightly. Before Carmy finishes, he cups my face and yanks himself out of my mouth.

Eyes shut and face twisted in both euphoria and frustration, he grumbles, "Fuck, I said I didn't wanna cum yet."

I simply smack my lips together, savouring his taste. Carmy appears stunned as holds my face. I smirk wickedly and a short puff of air abandons him.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, and his jagged voice makes his question sound like an order, and I love it. "Please," I pant and he kisses my forehead before dragging me back on the sofa, underneath him again.

Positioning himself, Carmy rips open the condom with his teeth and rolls it over himself. He sucks in a coarse breath as he pushes into my entrance, and I do the same. He moans my name and I choke on a sob as he bottoms out, in one, mind-numbing jolt. His hands tighten on my hips, pressing me into the couch as I arch upwards. We both moan nonsensically, adoring the friction and how seamlessly we fit together.

Moving synchronously, we fight for our highs, grinding into a rhythm that makes us gasp in pleasure. With my name on his lips, they seize mine, and his tongue laps every corner of my mouth, as he slowly takes control. I writhe under him and he thrusts harder, hitting all the right places. Shortly, my body grows almost limp, unable to keep up with the tide of desire above, bucking into me.

As I reach my end, he keeps going, simultaneously kissing and nipping my neck, surely leaving numerous marks, but I don't care. He just feels too good, deep inside, strong and brutal.

I cry out as core contracts, clamping down on him, and making his untamed movements stutter. I cum hard, gasping as tremors rack through me. Soon after, Carmy whimpers, craning his neck back as cums inside. With a lengthy sigh that eases into a loud moan, he holds us still. He dips his sweat-covered forehead into the crook of my neck and hums in satisfaction.

After a few minutes of catching our breath, and enjoying the weight of his body over top of mine, he heaves himself up to kiss my mouth once more.

"Go out with me, please," he urges politely as if he isn't still inside of me. I laugh lightly, then tense in surprise when my core clenches over his cock, and he winces as well.

Exhaling steadily, I breathe, "I would love to."

[thecapricunt1616]

Pls. Dad!Carm would have so much heartache regarding when you stopped breastfeeding your first.

Like imagine him nuzzling into your neck being like “so-she doesn’t ask for milkys anymore?! She’s just a- a big girl now?!” And just sobbing that his babies aren’t breastfeeding after 4+ years of that being his norm. And you’re just like-

“Honey- bear- she’s in preschool now! She doesn’t need mommy’s milk to help her anymore, baby! She’s making friends and she feels so big- shhh baby. She’s a big girl- let her grow, bear. “ and he’s just fucking snot nose sobbing.

[haneuble]

inspo

[carmenberzattosgf]

i know this might be controversial…but carmen not realizing he has a size kink until he’s got you seated on his cock, hearing you babble with teary eyes about how big he is and how good he feels, watching your thighs genuinely tremble and you haven’t even started to move yet.

definitely delves into CRAZY teasing at times, muttering shit like “sorry sweetheart, i just don’t think it’ll fit. you’ll take my fingers again, lemme stretch this pretty cunt out, yeah? maybe you can take my cock once you’ve cum again.” and eventually “it’s deep, huh? shh, i know, i know it’s big, baby, can barely move you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight…takin’ it so well…” -💫

Oh god.

I’m thinking him realizing it when you ride him for the first time, in particular. The relationship is still new and you’ve only had sex a couple of times. Carmy always insists on missionary. It lets him hide his face in the crook of your neck, where he just licks and sucks at your skin to keep himself quiet.

The night starts out normal. You’re cozy up against Carmy’s side on the couch while he watches one of his cooking shows. It doesn’t take long for your hands to start wandering on his skin. Your fingers trace underneath his t-shirt first, feeling his muscles underneath.

Carmy’s poker face is bullet proof, until you lean in to press hot open-mouth kisses to his neck. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers. The feeling of your lips on his neck always breaks down his strong exterior.

You straddle him, removing your lips from his pulse point to look into his eyes. Carmy lets one hand naturally drift to your hips, urging you to grind into him. With the other, he’s firmly grabbing your jaw to smash your lips onto his. Kissing Carmy is always messy. He kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it. His lips sloppily press against yours. There’s barely any rhyme or reason to his movements, just pure desperation for more of you.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to be completely naked. Carmy makes a move to try and flip you over on the couch, but you press down on his shoulders before he has the chance to move.

You lock eyes with him. Those beautiful blue eyes of his are now filled with desire. Only a thin ring of blue remains around his pupils. His jaw falls open when you reach down to grip his length, spreading the precum that leaked from his tip to the rest of his shaft. “Can I ride you, Carm?”

“Fuck sweetheart— you can do whatever you want. I just need to be inside of you.”

Without another word, you rise up onto your knees to position the head of his cock at your entrance. Carmy’s eyes stay focused on that very spot, shuttering when his dick makes contact with your cunt.

You sink down onto his cock at a snails pace. The tip is enough to make you wince. You grit your teeth as you let your hips sit all the way down on his cock. The pressure is impossible to put into words. His cock is thick, and it stretches you out in ways that brings tears to your eyes. The pain is welcomed though because the pleasure that follows it is mind numbing.

Carmen’s waiting for you to move, eyes transfixed on where your hips are flush with his. It’s not until he feels the shaking in your thighs that he looks up at your face. Your lip is caught inbetween your teeth, and tears well up at the waterline of your eyes.

“C-Carm. You’re so f-fucking big. So deep Carmy—look.” You quickly grab one of his hands that was locked around your waist, and urge him to press his palm right above your mound. With shaky legs, you grind your hips, letting him feel how deep his cock is.”

“Holy shit, baby—“

“Y-you feel that?” A stray tear drips from your water line. “You fill me up so good, Bear. Like no one else can.”

Seeing you shake and cry from how big his dick is changed something in Carmen that night. He goes a little unhinged.

The next time he fucks you, it’s with both your legs thrown over his shoulders. The position is almost too much, making you whimpering. You don’t even realize you’re crying until Carmy speaks up.

“Is my cock too big for this pretty pussy?’ How about I pull out since it doesn’t fit? I can work you with my fingers until you can take it.”

“No, no, no! Need your cock Carmy. Please Carm, don’t wanna cum on your fingers. I- I want you to fill me up. Bear.”

Carmy continues to spew absolute filth once he has permission to keep fucking you.

“I can see you crying, baby. I know it’s big but you can take it. Such a good girl for me.”

“So fucking tight- going to make me cum too fast. Guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again later.”

“I gotcha baby, you can take my cock. My best girl, my only girl. Fuck—I’ll never get tired of this cunt.”

“Atta girl, there we go. Look at you taking it so well. Knew you could do it.”

“You look so pretty crying around my cock. You’ll get used to it baby, I promise. Don’t worry, you’ll always be able to feel me in your stomach like this.”

[fishfooddude]

No Phone Policy 5.0

Trigger/Content Warning: DV themes to an extent, prayers, lots of anxiety mentions, abandonment?

I feel like I got a little too angsty with this one, but remember, y'all permitted it.

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 4

Before the Policy (Technically the part I wrote before this part)

You were frozen. One of Carmy’s arms was draped around your waist as he slept peacefully. All you could do was stare at the wall and wait for Wolf to cry so you’d have an excuse to leave the room. But the cries didn’t come. The room was filled with the white noise of the overhead fan and Carmy’s soft snores. You swallowed and tried to focus on anything besides the twinge of pain Carmy had inflicted on your wrists. What were you going to do? Carmy had never done anything like this before. All the after-school specials and PSAs you’d seen as a kid said that domestic violence starts small. The abuser tests the waters - see what they can get away with. You were the perfect victim in some way.

A month postpartum, maybe $500 to your name, some family but not many friends… but Carmy wasn’t an abuser? Was he? You racked your brain for hours trying to compartmentalize the last five years of your life. Was Carmy the perfect friend? No. He wasn’t always the ideal boyfriend, fiance, or husband, as evident by how he’d been ignoring you the weeks prior to you giving birth, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t the kind of man who had to hurt people to feel significant or noteworthy. He wasn’t the kind of man who had to manipulate or lie to people to get what he wanted. Hell, it took months of you asking before he dared to smack your ass in bed- he wasn’t the type to lay hands on you. As you lay in bed with him, your brain racked with any other times Carmy may have done something subtle, something you missed that could have been a predictor of what happened. You were brought out of your downward thought spiral when Wolf’s soft cries came over the baby monitor. Fear washed over you when you felt the weight of Carmy’s arm disappear. 

Carmy mumbled something before getting out of bed and slowly exiting the master bedroom. When he was gone, you rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. “1,3,5,7,11,13,17,19…” you counted under your breath as you watched the ceiling fan slowly turn in counter-clockwise circles, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference…” you whispered to yourself. As you took another deep breath, you heard footsteps approach the bedroom. You closed your eyes and rolled back to your previous position. 

As Carmy got back into bed, you felt your stomach twist, “She’s okay, baby. Just needed a diaper change…” he whispered as his arms snaked around your waist. You felt like you were going to throw up when he pulled you to meet him in the middle of the bed. 

~

“So all it took was havin’ a kid?” Cerico laughed as he read the email Carmy had sent the night prior. “Hey, it’s sweet. He’s growin’ up.” Natalie commented as she scrolled through the email on her laptop, “Also, I don’t know how he spelled ‘special’ wrong four times with spell check.” 

“Okay—updates for the menu… so we are doing a singular special every night. It’ll highlight whatever produce is fresh from the farmer’s market. We'll make weekly menus instead of changing the menu every night. We’re also switching food vendors, so if you want extra hours, we’ll need an additional couple of sets of hands to unload the orders.” Syd explained this to the wait staff during their daily meeting before the dinner service. The sense of relief in the room was palpable; Richie thanked Syd for explaining the changes before taking the lead for the rest of the meeting. 

Carmy was sitting in the office that night when Richie found his way inside. He immediately noticed a picture of Wolf pinned on the corkboard above the computer, surrounded by post-it notes and various unpaid bills. He grinned and pulled a chair to the desk, “What’s good cousin?” 

Carmy looked up from his notebook when he heard Richie’s question. He shrugged, “I’m off the next couple of days… tryin’ help Syd out with some special ideas.”

“How are things at home?” Richie probed. Carmy shrugged again, much to his annoyance. “Y/N still pissed at you?” 

“We’re good. Babys good. Everything is okay.” Carmy answered as he ripped the page from his notebook and stuck it to the corkboard before getting up from his chair. Richie’s brow creased at Carmy’s explanation. There was no way ‘everything is okay’; he missed the birth of his child. While he hadn’t known for that long, he knew there was no way you’d just let Carmy off the hook like that. 

Carmy walked through the front door and heard noises coming from the kitchen. He smiled to himself as he found his way into the kitchen. Your back was turned to him; Wolf sat in her pastel Bumbo seat on the counter, babbling. You laughed along with her babbling as he stood in the doorway watching you wash dishes and continue your ‘conversation’ with Wolf. Carmy came into the kitchen and hugged you from behind, startling you. He felt you swallow hard as your body tensed. He pushed the concern out of his head and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. 

“How you doin’ baby?” he asked as he let his arms fall and turned his attention to Wolf. You clenched your fist behind your back, watching Carmy lift Wolf out of her seat and cuddle against him. You shrugged, “Goin’ great. She napped like a champ, and I got some work done from home.” 

Carmy smiled as he rubbed Wolf’s back softly, “That’s great, baby.” You nodded in agreement and returned to finishing what you’d been doing before Carmy had gotten home. It had been a few weeks since Carmy did what he did, and you still felt conflicted about the entire situation. He was trying to be present and involved with all things parenting, but you couldn’t shake the way he’d hurt you. He pretended like it never happened. 

~

“How’d her appointment go?” Carmy asked as he entered the bedroom with a towel around his hips.

You locked your Kindle before meeting his gaze. “She’s good. She got four shots and was super pissed at me for like an hour, but she’s good now.” 

Carmy chuckled, “Did Feyre and Rhysand finish rebuilding the night court yet?” he asked as he got a pair of underwear from his drawers. You rolled your eyes at the question, “Not yet. I got to a good part, though.”

“How’d work go?” you questioned as Carmy got into bed. He shrugged, “It wasn’t anythin’ special. Just missed my girls…” his voice had dropped an octave as he scooted closer to you in bed. You felt your body tense as he snaked his arms around your waist. You glanced at the baby monitor, praying for Wolf to start crying. The idea of being intimate with him made you feel cold and clammy.

“Carm…” you trailed off as you tried to wiggle out of his grip, “I-I-I” you stuttered as you felt him press a kiss into the exposed skin of your shoulder. You squeezed your eyes closed as Carmy moved to hover above your body. The hair on your arms stood when you felt Carmy’s thumb run across your jaw. “I miss you baby… I know I fucked up, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life tryin’ to make up for it… let me make you feel good…” he cooed. 

Before you could answer his demand, his lips were on yours. Blood rushed to your ears as he feverishly kissed you. Carmy was desperate to alleviate the frustrations that had been building since you came home from the hospital. Watching you take care of his baby left him feeling feral. The desire to ravage you had met its breaking point this evening when you strolled into the living room in those silky pajama shorts with the lacy trim. The pastel green popped against your skin; the material was tight around the fat of your thighs and beckoned for him to take you there and then. He just had to wait for the baby to go down.

Your stomach twisted as Carmy’s lips made their way down your jawline and neck toward your collarbone. As he sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin, you felt as if you were going to throw up. “Carmy,” you sniveled as he pushed a hand under the band of said silk shorts, lacing his fingers in the band of your underwear. You went unheard as Carmy sucked a hickey into your collarbone, “Carmy!” you cried as you brought your palms to his chest to shove him aside. 

Carmy was perplexed but concerned when he realized you were hyperventilating. “Baby- baby, are you okay?” he asked as he reached for you. You pushed yourself off the bed, stumbling as you rushed into the bathroom, desperate to get as far away from Carmy as quickly as possible. Carmy’s brow tensed as he scrambled to get out of bed, pulling on a pair of gym shorts that had been discarded on the bedroom floor before he got into the shower. 

Carmy knocked on the door before trying the doorknob. The door was locked, and he could hear your heavy sobs from the other side of the door. “Baby- Y/N, baby, talk to me. Did I do somethin’ wrong?” 

“LEAVE ME ALONE, CARMEN!” you chastised him through the door as your body shook. You sought comfort in the corner of the bathroom by the bathtub. With shaky fingers, you tried to tap against your skin to ground yourself, but the coping skin proved unsuccessful. 

“Baby? Please open the door,” Carmy pleaded shakily. “Y/N? Let me help you, baby.” He rested his forehead against the door as he jingled the doorknob. You didn’t respond to his pleas. Carmy took a deep breath. “Baby, please. " He begged and bargained for you to open the door. 

“CARMY, JUST-JUST GO AWAY!” Your voice cracked as you yelled through the bathroom door. You didn’t care about waking Wolf; you just wanted him to leave. “Baby, let me in. Let me help you,” Carmy demanded as calmly as he could. You took a deep breath before pushing yourself up from the floor. If you did this, it had to be quick.

The door flung open to Carmy’s surprise. You pushed past him and ran out of the bedroom. “Baby?!” he called after you as he tried to catch up with you. “Baby?! What the fuck! Talk to me!” he yelled as you reached the top of the stairs. He reached out and managed to get a hold of your wrist. Your eyes were wide as your mind flashed back to the last time he’d grabbed you like this.

You yanked your wrist out of his grip and quickly blinked away the tears welling in your eyes. You had to get away from him. “Y/N!” Carmy yelled as you stumbled down the stairs, tripping on your way. You landed on your hip hard, as a hiss of pain came out of your mouth as Carmy joined you at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Baby? Are you okay?!” Carmy sputtered as he pushed your hair out of your face. You shook your head and tried to push him away from you as he helped you sit at the bottom of the stairs. “Fuck Y/N! Let me fuckin’ help you!” Carmy protested as you pushed yourself away from him and up from the ground in a swift movement. 

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE CARMEN! I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU, ASSHOLE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs as you grabbed your bag from the table by the door. Wolf’s cries echoed throughout the house as Carmy watched you storm out of the house. 

“What the fuck?” Carmy grunted as tears started rolling down his cheeks. He sat momentarily on the stairs to compose himself before getting up to go into the nursery. 

“I’m sorry, princess…” he cooed as he picked Wolf up from her crib. She wailed louder as Carmy brought her to his chest. As he bounced her in his arms, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of something bad happening to him. “Mommy’ll be okay… I got you right now…”

Part 6

[garlicisgodsbestinvention]

Family Style

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x AFAB Reader

Warnings: none? some angst? syd and carmy having a spat in the middle of dinner service, what's new

Word Count: 600 something, it's a little guy I'm new here

Syd is yelling at him. 

She’s absolutely fucking shouting at him and he deserves it because he shouted first, but Richie is yelling something too and Carmy isn’t entirely sure who he’s supposed to be listening to—

“Carmen.” 

He hears his name over and over again, like an alarm he forgot to turn off, half-asleep as it just goes and goes—but his mouth is still going, shaping some words he probably doesn’t even mean but Sydney’s volume is matching his and that’s just second nature, to reach that level—

“Carmen Berzatto,” a finger snapping in his face, the sight of you coming into focus when he finally looks up from the paper in front of him, Sydney still screaming from your other side. 

“Honestly, like why the fuck even speak if you’re just not going to listen—“ Syd is saying, and Carmy just—

“Sydney! Carmen! Shut the fuck up, chefs!” You shout, and the whole kitchen just…quiets. 

Silence. 

Chopping stops; everyone stops moving. Even Richie is looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

Not once have you raised your voice in this kitchen. Not once. 

Even though, admittedly—childishly—he might have been trying to provoke you into it once or twice, just to see if eventually you’d crack. He’s such a fucking asshole for that and he knows it, they all know it, but it never happened. Your voice has always been perfectly even, perfectly controlled. 

Maybe that’s what he hates about you. 

He hated it from the moment Sydney brought you in, that control. He has none of that and it comes to you so effortlessly; the careful choice of words and the one-two punch of the right thing to say that hits him so hard in the gut when he’s so used to everything being the wrong thing. 

“That’s enough.” You snap, so loud that Richie jumps in the already-quiet of the kitchen. “Chefs, fire two t-bones, two cannoli, three bone broths, and one foccacia. Now.” 

There’s a chorus of yes, chef, that rings through the kitchen as everyone moves to action, and Carmy and Syd are just left standing there with you so deliberately between them. Carmy’s chest feels tight. 

“We’re not going to do that, ever again,” you snap at them, and Carmy feels—well, he feels a little bit like he’s just been scolded by a teacher. Syd has a look on her face that tells him she feels the same. 

“New rule,” you start to say, as the two of them stand there like children, heads hung. “Every night, we’re going to have a debrief. None of us will leave this restaurant until we’ve hashed out what has gone wrong and what we can do better. We are not going to bring what happened yesterday back into this fucking kitchen. I don’t care if I have to chain you both to the goddamn bar and keep you there until three in the morning. We are never, ever going to do this again. Am I clear?” 

You look between them and Syd is the first to nod vigorously, an apologetic look on her face and a fist closed over her heart. 

“Heard, chef,” Syd says, nodding. 

Then you and Syd are looking at him expectantly, and he’s just so—hot. The kitchen feels suddenly really warm when you’ve got that look in your eye, and some threat about being tied to something is swimming around in his head. You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

“Heard,” he whispers, unable to get the word to come out any louder, fist on his chest in response to Sydney. “Heard.” 

The rest of service, they’re on their very best behavior, even if Carmen’s heart beats way too hard every time you look his way. 

[yellowcrowindustry]

You always knew how to push my buttons

You gave me everything and nothing

This mad, mad love makes you come rushing

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ahhhh I love you!! What about this: “Hey babe, come try this” with Carmy?

love u too, and awww, i love this !!

he’d be trying a new recipe at home, you lounging on the couch, the tv buzzing on in the back. You glance at him in the kitchen, sighing as you stood up, coming behind him.

You lean against the counter next to him, his gaze diverting to you for a moment before paying attention back to the dish in front of him.

He’s squeezing a lemon on top of the food, the juice dripping onto it, drops adding a hint of a flavor to the dish. He turned to you, putting the rest of the lemon onto the counter, bringing the plate up.

He held it, with a fork on the plate.

“Hey, babe, try this.” He spoke, you grabbing the plate and holding it in your hands, picking up the fork. You dug the fork into the food, now moving the fork towards your mouth.

Your eyes widened as you chewed it, nodding. His eyes searched yours, smiling at your reaction.

“Jesus, Carm, this is so good.”

“It’s a…” his hand went to his jaw, slightly scratching at it as he explained the dish, each ingredient and how it enhanced the flavor, you nodding and listening intently.

[kyloknightren]

i need sydney to encourage carmy to make a painting for the bear after seeing his sketches cause he hated the look of the one that nat got for the front of the house and i feel like carmen’s drawings will just have more importance in the next season

or if nat sees carmy’s stuff and tells him “bro. you should hang something at the restaurant!”