#carmy imagine

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back. 

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

 “Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise.  But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear.  Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

           There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 ♡

Six months ago, you made the move to Chicago and since then, the feeling of truly belonging to this new city hasn't quite settled within you. Being far away from friends and family hasn't made the transition any easier. However, one night, a new connection unexpectedly forms when your neighbor, who nearly set your apartment building ablaze, enters your life.

Carmen Berzatto x reader || Series playlist || Main masterlist

Chapter 1 Copenhagen to Chicago [3.1k]

Chapter 2 I Need Some Sleep [7.4k]

Chapter 3 Not Ready Yet coming soon

Chapter 4 Lake Michigan

Chapter 5 Nordhavn Station

Chapter 6 Universal Donor

Chapter 7 Trouble With Dreams

Chapter 8 Beginner’s Luck

Chapter 9 P.S. You Rock My World

Chapter 10 I Like The Way This Is Going

[berzatoe]

I Can See You

Warnings: swearing, smoking, smut, fingering, oral (M receiving), p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, spanking, dom!carmy, sub!reader, lots of dirty talk, Carmy is mean.

Pairings: Carmen Berzatto x F!reader

Synopsis: reader is a new hire at the bear set to replace sydney while she goes abroad, and she and carmen do not get along. On a particularly stressful night, they find a great way to sort out their differences.

Authors note: okay I was listening to Taylor’s song “I can see you” and this came to mind so here. There’s not enough Carmy smut out there so I am contributing. ALSO ACCEPTING REQUEST RN SO PLEASE SEND!!!

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

—————————

The clock was ticking. A few minutes to open and so far, everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

When you agreed to fill in as Sous for sydney while she went abroad to study in Copenhagen, you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.

Night after night, you had anxiety levels in that kitchen similar to those of someone being hunted by wild animals.

That’s why they call it the bear— the thought occurred to you the first rush you worked. Richie and Carmen had almost killed each other, Tina nearly walked out, you were down an oven and the damn fridge was broken. It felt like you were running for your life as you tried to gain control of that kitchen.

“Chef, I said hands.” His firm voice cut through your thoughts.

“Yes, chef.” you followed his voice and took his place mixing as he began chopping vegetables. His biceps flexed with the heavy rhythm of the knife coming down against the board, veins swelling with tension, knuckles growing white.

He was another problem. He was the essence of the bear. You two butted heads like no other. Ever since sydney hired you to take her place for her leave, he’d been at your throat, hungry for your blood.

You were an ingenue of sorts at a prestigious chef school, and went on to work in one of his competing restaurants in New York at a very young age. You had come in with confidence of your abilities, and had different ways of doing things than Carmy. He couldn’t quite accept it, and you knew he didn’t respect you just yet.

But you craved his approval, for some reason. Something about Carmy made you thirst for his praise. You were constantly showing him new dishes you wanted on the menu to only be turned down. You two would easily get in screaming matches over wether to dice or mince, which spices to add, how long to cook, until you were out of breath and both needed a smoke break.

It didn’t help that he was so goddamn handsome. Watching him work, watching him be impassioned by his work, in command of his staff, it set something off in you. Even when he was screaming at you, there would be a glint in his eye, a vein popping in his neck, or a tone he took that would have you clenching your thighs together.

Now, you stood next to him staring at his strong arms and hands cutting vegetables, falling apart because you’re so stressed and all you can think about is those hands around your throat.

“Chef! What the hell!!” carmy shouted

You’d somehow poured the entire stock pot of sauce all over the oven.

You were stood there just staring at it emptily, trying to understand how it had happened.

“What were you thinking?!” Carmy yelled again.

“I can make more! I’ll get right on it, Chef.”

“We are fucking opening in exactly one minute, chef, we needed that sauce. We NEEDED THAT FUCKING SAUCE.”

“It was only half of the batch, the other one is still there.” You pointed toward the other pot, still heating. Then Carmen let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as your eyes widened.

The second timer for it immediately went off, meaning it had reset. The alarm rang through the kitchen like a death siren. The sauce was cooking for twice as long as it was supposed to.

“Yup, looks like you burnt that sauce. Congratu-fucking-lations. We can’t open. Are you incompetent chef? Are you stupid?”

The words hurt. “I was going to take care of that sauce before you called for hands!”

“This is the 5th thing you’ve fucked up this morning. You’re ruining my open.”

“If you ever listened to me, I swear I have a more efficient way to do this where we don’t need to call hands and everybody has a set job—“

“This isn’t your restaurant, chef.” He cut you off with a cold stare to match his words, eyes piercing into your soul.

You huffed and spun around, scared if you stayed everyone would see you cry. You ran to the back, out the door, and sat against the brick wall of the alleyway. You rolled your head into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Richie’s voice rung out. He stood leant up against the fence, smoking.

“Oh god,” you sniffed, looking up and quickly wiping tears away. You didn’t answer, instead, you reached out your hand, silently asking for a smoke.

Richie obliged and continued, “you know, Carmy is really hard on you, huh?”

You stayed quiet, taking a long drag and looking off to the city as you exhaled.

“He has a really hard time with people. He’s not like me. And I think he’s really threatened by you, cuz you’re so good. He had to be a control freak and work for it, but you’re just good.”

You pondered this for a moment, “you really think that?”

“Uh, yeah sweetheart. You’re a natural. He has to at least believe he’s in control or else he’d go apeshit. Also, I think he sort of has a thing for you, so it affects his focus… or whatever…”

You paused. You never thought of the possibility that it could be mutual. That he’d lose focus looking at you the way you so often did with him. But he had just been such an asshole, and you were angry, and god, you wanted to make him pay.

“Richie, I don’t think that could be true. He doesn’t like me. He’s so mean to me.”

Richie just chuckled and then put the cigarette the two of you had been sharing out.

“I know the kid. Get back in there, make him think he’s in charge, and do your thing, little miss sunshine.” Richie smiled and squeezed your shoulders. That was his nickname for you, because of your general sunny disposition. It had changed the place a lot.

The rest of your shift until close, you did what Richie suggested. You made Carmen think he was in charge. You followed orders with a smile and a “yes, chef”, you trailed after him and cleaned up his messes without him noticing, and soon enough the two of you were doing a successful close, allowing the rest of the staff to go home early.

Through the night, you’d also found a way to combat how distracted Carmy could make you. Richie’s intel had allowed you to flip the tables on him. Instead of focusing on how worked up he got you, you started focusing on how worked up you could get him.

You’d always stare at him for just a second too long after saying “yes, chef”, you’d squeeze pass him, intentionally pushing your body close to his. You’d find opportunities to bend over in front of him, stretch out, let your hand linger on his too long when he handed you something. Anything to be close, any chance you got. You were doing your best to see if what Richie had said held any truth to it.

You’d almost given up, you thought for sure something would happen, but the two of you had wrapped things up and were turning down the lights in the restaurant as you got ready to leave.

Carmy had been suspiciously quiet since everyone went home and you were beginning to feel awkward in the silence.

You were standing in front of your locker, grabbing your bag, when Carmy turned around and said, “Wanna tell me what the fuck was up with you tonight?”

You swallowed and turned around to face him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a step closer to you, “I think you do.”

He walked the small distance between your lockers until he was flush against you. He leaned forward until you were cheek to cheek, his lips to your ear as he whispered, “you think you could ruin my open, then tease me like a desperate little whore the whole fucking shift, and get away with it?”

His words went straight to your pussy. Your heart was beating faster than it had ever before, here you were; finally caught by the wild beast hunting you down. He’d fallen for your bait. You smirked.

He lifted his head from your neck where he was planting kisses, seeing the grin on your face. He gripped your jaw with a firm hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, you’re proud of yourself, hmm?” His hand trailed down and came to rest at your collar bones. You moaned in response.

He knew what you wanted. His hand closed around your neck and you smiled again.

Carmen closed his lips around yours. It was unexpected, and even though his hand was rough against your neck, the kiss was slow and gentle. It felt almost nervous, hesitant maybe, and that just made you even more desperate for him. You let out a whimper, begging him to give your more, and his tongue licked into your mouth as his other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

After that he went feral. Pushing up against you, clutching onto your throat, licking roughly and desperately into your mouth, grinding his hard cock against your heat.

He came back up for air, staring at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any regret, hesitancy, anything but what he found; which was pure, eager, lust.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest and latched onto your nipple as he quickly began pushing down your pants. His calloused hands slowly began teasing the soft delicate skin of your thighs, rubbing soft circles so close to your core.

You whined, and in response he let out a light teasing chuckle as he pushed his hand pass your folds, immediately landing his thumb right against your clit.

Your body convulsed at this, and he loved it. He studied your face, looking for every reaction and using them as cues as he began circling his thumb against your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed, clearly enjoying it too, “is this what you wanted? Hmm? You’re so fucking wet for me. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you wanted me to touch you?”

Any nervousness you had detected in Carmy before was long gone. He was in control. You were letting him be in control, again, and he was about to ravish you for it.

“Answer me.” His thumb stopped and he tightened his grip around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you since-“ he began rubbing your clit again.

“Since- my first shift- I-“ his ring finger poked at your entrance.

“I-I can never stop thinking about you and-“ his finger fully entered you now and you instantly clenched around it.

“And- I always fantasize about you fucking me which is why i can’t do any of my work right!” You spit out quickly as his finger began pushing in and out of you. At this, he curled it up to meet your spongey spot deep within and you let out a yelp.

“Oh poor baby” he said as he slowed his movements, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out at a torturous pace. Your back was still pressed up against the lockers and the sting of the metal carving into your skin heightened all of your sensations.

“Stupid little slut can’t do her job because she wants to fuck her boss so bad, is that it?” He thrusts his finger into you hard.

“Please” you begged.

“Please what? What do you want?”

“Go faster, I’m so close!”

He instantly removed his fingers from your and you felt the emptiness like a hole.

You went to complain before he clamped a hand around your mouth, “Don’t say a thing. You’re lucky I even gave you my fingers after the shit you pulled tonight, baby. You think you can tell me what to do? You think that’s how this is gonna work? I would just let you cum and then give you my cock and make you cum again?” He laughed.

His eyes were dark and full of want, his cock was hard and it was so painfully evident through his pants. It looked so big and you couldn’t get your mind off of it.

He noticed you staring and began undoing his belt. “Get on your knees.”

You gulped and froze.

He put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were kneeling, “I said, get. On. Your. Knees.”

He finished undoing his pants and you were face to face with his long, hard, thick cock.

“Be a good girl and suck it, baby” he said. You started towards him before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back.

“What do you say when I ask you to do something, darling?” His tone was condescending, but you answered nonetheless.

“Yes, chef.”

He groaned and rolled his head back, “yeah, that’s right, good fuckin’ girl” pushing your head back towards his cock as an invitation. You accepted.

You were brutal with your movements, sucking and licking and pushing him as deep as you could get him. He was anything but shy with letting you know how much he enjoyed it, his grip tightening around your hair and pulling and pushing ever so slightly, his hips unintentionally bucking up, forcing his cock down the back of your throat.

And the sounds he was making, oh, they could only be from your dreams. He was unraveling at the seams and whimpering like a dog when you reached your hand up to cup his balls and lightly massage them, he pushed your head so far down you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my fucking go-d” he said before pulling you off him with a “pop” and staring at your fucked-out face.

Blown out eyes stared back up at him, saliva coating swollen lips, mascara smudged and running, hair a mess. He was proud of himself, and the sight turned him on to no end. He knew if he let you continue he’d cum. However, you were relentless and as soon as he let up on your hair, you dove back down.

“Okay baby, that’s enough.” He said, tearing you away again.

“Why?” You asked genuinely, and it made his heart flutter.

“Cuz if you don’t stop, you’re gonna make m’cum. Can’t do that yet. Wanna do it deep, deep inside ya’… if that’s okay?” He whispered gently, cupping your face and wiping your cheeks.

“Please, god please.” You cried, nodding your head. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, leading you to his office.

There, carmy turned you around and placed, gentle, sweet kisses along your shoulder before whispering, “are you sure this is okay?”

To which, you nodded desperately. But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I need you to say it, honey. I need you to say that you want this. That you want me to fuck you right here on this desk, and fill you up with my cum.”

“I want you Carmy, I want you so bad.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me on this desk and fill me up with your cum.” You whined, slightly embarrassed, pussy swollen and begging to be fucked.

He pushed you down until you were bending over the desk, chest flush against it. He got a good look at how much you truly wanted him.

“Jesus Christ, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he said, roughly spreading you.

“So fucking wet and tight too, could feel you squeezing my fingers earlier.” He spit into his hand and cupped your pussy with it, rubbing the spit down and over your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock tease your hole, slowly making little circles, just barely entering. At this point, you were so ready for him this actually felt mean. You needed relief and he knew it, he saw it, saw your clit throbbing and your legs shaking, body blushing all over. You beginning to make a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

He starts to softly comfort you but you know he’s proud of himself, with a smirk on his face as he does it, “ssshhh-sshhh… it’s okay, baby. I know, I know, it’s a lot. I just wanna make sure I don’t hurt you so I’m gonna start real slow, okay? Know you need me. Gonna take good care of you, promise” he slowly starts to inch himself in, and you have to admit, his size surprised you. You were glad for his patience.

When he finally burrows himself all the way within you, you both let out a moan in-sync at the new feeling. Both taking a second to adjust, you tighten and release your walls, making him groan.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He says between thrusts as he begins, setting a good pace.

Once Carmen is finally fucking you, finally moving within you, taking you raw, you feel free. You let go of all the stress from the restaurant and let him drill it out of you, and you’re sure you’re serving the same purpose for him.

“S’good… so fucking good…” carmen is saying as he fucks you, pace picking up, getting more rough by the second. The praise makes you melt, you squeeze him again and revel in the loud moan you get out of it.

He grabs another fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, making your back arch and the position hit so much deeper. He leans over your body and reaches down to rub your clit with the hand not on your head. It makes you tremble under him.

“Doing s’well for me baby… knew this was all you wanted…. All I could ever think about too… taking you back here… fucking you hard and good just to shut you up… emptying my load deep inside you… leaving you to work the rest of your shift all filled up with me… you’ve been such a little tease every day since you got here… giving me those looks across the kitchen, wearing those little outfits in on your days off, pushing my buttons just to get a rise out of me… I’ve wanted this for so long, pretty baby. You’re so fucking pretty”

You cry out at his drunken confession. It gets you so worked up, you’re almost there, and you can tell he is too.

“Carmy…” you whine, feeling him so deep, hitting that spot every single time without pause, working you up and up and up.

“Yes, baby?”

“Cum inside of me, please. I want it all. Want you to fill me up. M’sclose too. Please please please, fill me up Carmy.” You’re practically in tears and it does something to Carmy. He hears you.

He quickens his pace, getting sloppier, rougher, more sporadic, the two of you making noises like animals, and soon he takes a hand and slaps it down across your ass, causing a loud thwack, as you scream in euphoria. He does it one more time, hard enough to leave a welt, before spilling his seed deep, deep inside of your pussy.

As he pumps his seed into you, again and again, you feel that coil come undone and are seeing stars before you know it, panting and moaning and sweating as Carmy holds you in his arms and snaps his hips back into you occasionally.

He’s collapsed over you on the desk, the two of you exhausted and decompressing. He places a few kisses against your cheek before standing up and pulling himself out, groaning again at the sight. He sees your welted ass, pussy red and swollen, knees shaking, body rising up and down from being out of breath and he instinctively pulls your dead weight into his office chair and runs to get you a water.

You decide that you and Carmy have found an incredible, healthy way to work out your differences in the kitchen.

[collecting-stories]

Blueberry BBQ - Carmen Berzatto

Request: no.

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

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

The Bear Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunday night dinner?” Syd echoed.  

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

“It’s uh,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bust.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you making?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marcus’ roommate?” Carmy almost laughed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmy nodded, grinning, “yeah alright.”  

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah if it’s good,” he joked.  

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s your recipe.”  

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

“Apple?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[atrwriting]

Carmen "Carmy" "Bear" Berzatto Masterlist

below the cut ;)

The Bee, The Bird, The Bear - Uncle!Carmy x Babysitter!you

Prologue One Two

More, More, More - Carmy “The Bear’ Berzatto x coworker!reader

One Shot

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi! i'd like to ask for a whiskey with carmen berzatto with prompt m. Keeping the relationship a secret

thank you <3

Lovesick.

warnings - not quite smut, but a little smooching. cursing.

ah sweet carmen. thank you for this request <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

"Behind!"

Carmy's fingertips graze across your back as he walks past you, featherlight and barely there.

It sets your nerves on fire.

You carry on slicing the tomatoes, mentally willing yourself to calm down. You seem to turn into a teenager when Carmy's around, all giggly and jumpy.

"Time for you to take a break," a warm voice mutters in your ear.

"I've got like an hour before I need a break, Carm."

"I said, time for you to take a break."

He presses a gentle kiss to your ear, chuckling when he sees you shiver. To anyone else, it looks like he's just giving you direction.

"I'll meet you in the office in five," you whisper. He's satisfied with your answer, slinking off to wait for you.

You barely make it to two minutes before you're walking across the kitchen, gliding through the door and closing it behind you.

Two rough hands find your hips, pushing you up against the wall. Carmy smashes his lips to yours, using your startled gasp as opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling recklessly. Your leg hitches up around his thigh, desperate to get closer to him.

"You're all I can think about," Carmy whispers against your mouth. "Can't focus on a fuckin' thing when you're in the room."

You whine, tugging him back to kiss you again. You know this is risky. But you just can't help yourself.

"Come over tonight," you murmur. "Want you to fuck me to sleep."

He throws his head back and groans, gorgeous neck exposed and waiting to be bitten. You lean in and lick the expanse of it, tasting the salt on his skin.

Carmy brings a warm hand up to rest against your throat, smirking when you whine. He presses kisses to the spot under your ear, your neck, your collarbones. Just as he's trying to unbutton your shirt, the door swings open, scaring the life out of you both.

You shriek as Carmy jumps, light filling the tiny room.

"Well well well," Richie drawls, grin etched across his face. "What do we have here?"

"Is Carmy there? I need to ask him about-"

Sydney stops dead in her tracks, the corners of her lips curling.

"Does anyone else wanna come and fuckin' look?" Carmy groans, snapping at the two people stood in the doorway.

You hide your face in his chest, willing them to leave you alone. Or for the ground to swallow you up. Either works.

"Alright, alright. Let's leave these lovesick kids alone."

You never thought you'd see the day that Richie was your saving grace.

The minute the door swings closed, you can't help but break out into a fit of giggles. Carmy joins you, both of you crying tears of laughter.

Lovesick. He's probably right.

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[mayfieldss]

Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto

Content Warnings: THIS IS MY MEAL. I CALL IT GIRL DINNER ✨️GIRLLLL DINNNER✨️

Inspired by this post I saw by @thebearer (i hope you don't mind me adding to the concept)

"What the fuck is girl dinner?" Carmy sounds more than frustrated, and confused as he stares down at you, sat comfortably on the couch with your choice of meal. It's an apalling assortment of things from his point of view, though your wide smile shows you think the opposite.

"This is girl dinner." You wave down at your food before stabbing a fork into the meal, eyes drifting to the tv.

"No, no, no, I can't let you eat that." Carmy seems a little distraught as you make eye contact with him, putting more of the dish you prepared into your mouth, chewing slowly as though to make the point 'but I'm eating it anyway.'

"Fuck, please stop with the girl dinner." You love how he's adopted the phrase himself, reaching down to pull the plate away from you, though you dodge him well.

"You eat peanut butter and Jelly for dinner almost five nights a week, so don't you dare scold me for this!" You're defensive as you stand with your plate, still spooning the disaster into your mouth. It doesn't taste as good as anything Carmy would make for you, but you're stubborn.

"At least that has substance, just let me make you something—Jesus stop eating it! There's no way that's nutritious at all!"

"Fuck nutrition!" You shout back, sounding almost like a child in your defiance.

"Fuck girl dinner!" Carmy counters expertly, though there's a hint of a laugh within his words. In the phrase coming from both his lips and your own, he finds a sort of hilarity, though the point he's trying to make is a genuine one.

"But I love girl dinner." You raise your brows as if that's the perfect blow, the one that will win you the fight, despite the statements lack of foundation.

"Well, I love you, and I can't let you eat cheese string and oreos—is that a slice of fucking orange?"

"What could you make that's better than this?" It's a stupid question, and one you know that answer to as you gesture down at the plate with one hand.

"Anything, fucking anything!" Carmy runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. "What d'you want, I'll make you something, anything, just stop with girl dinner."

You take the slice of orange and bite into it, eyes locked on Carmen's. "The point of tonight's girl dinner is that I don't want to cook, and I also don't want you to cook."

"That's my fucking job."

"Exactly, you spend all day cooking, i don't want you to have to come home and cook for me too." Your voice is softer now, sweet and soothing, Carmy letting out a sigh at the sound of it.

He moves forward, taking the plate from you and placing it on the stool beside the couch. "Look, I don't mind. I don't mind making you something every once'n a while. You deal with all my shit all the fucking time, it's the least I can do." He takes your hands in his own, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just let me make you something."

"You're ruining the point of girl dinner." You mumble, pressing a short kiss to his lips as Carmy's hands run soothingly up and down your arms.

"Don't care." His mutters back, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, your other meal long abandoned on the stool to be disposed of later.

Days pass, Carmy is still thinking about it, and when he gets to work, he has to say something to the others. "Caught my girlfriend eating fucking orange slices and oreos for dinner the other night." He mutters whilst searing a steak in prep for a menu change. He glimpes Sydney nodding, and as Fak moves behind him, the man decides to speak.

"Girl dinner, good for her."

Carmy turns so fast to face the man that he almost sets his shirt alight on the element, thinking over the utter complexities of the term. "But what the fuck is girl dinner? How do you even know about–never mind."

"You know," Fak begins as Carmy runs a hand over his face in frustration, "this is my meal, I call this girl dinner" He's reciting something though Carmen has no clue where this is going, and when Fak starts singing it all seems to get worse.

He's repeating the phrase, and yet it still means nothing to Carmy as he moves away, leaving Fak to harmonize with Sydney as he picks up the phone.

Pressing call on your contact is like muscle memory, and the sound of the first few rings leaves him impatient, though you pick up eventually.

"Hey," he mutters into the phone, listening to your voice as you parrot the word back.

"Hey, what's up?" You sound preoccupied, and Carmy swears he can hear the closing of a cupboard door, the rustling of a packet of chips.

"Uh, nothing, I just... I wanted to call and ask if you're all good for dinner tonight." He's closed his eyes, leaning against the door of his office as the quiet settles over him. "D'you need anything?"

You answer almost too fast, suspicion creeping through the line with its grasp on your voice. "No, no, I'm good. Dinner's all good."

Carmy catches the tone, a small amused smile wriggling upon his lips. "Cool, so uh, what're you having?" He scared of the answer, if you decide to be honest—which you don't.

"I was thinking tacos, maybe, I haven't decided."

"Nice," Carmy chuckles, "so none of that girl dinner shit? No orange slices and string cheese?" Carmy can almost picture it as the words come to mind, the plate of horrors he'd witnessed not a week before. There's silence over the phone, and Carmy can hear you heave a sigh, loud and final, as you come to terms with your lie. You don't say anything, though, so Carmy fills the space.

"I'm coming home t'night," he whispers into the receiver, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he adjusts his apron. "Me, you and the tacos, okay?"

His voice is so gentle, the affection dripping from the words like honey, and he's truly never spoken to someone with as much care. It scares him sometimes, just how much he loves you.

"Carmy, I make the worst fucking tacos." Your smile is hidden within the sentence, and it reaches Carmy like a wave washing the sand, though you're so far from him right now.

"Yeah, I uh, I know. That's why I'm cooking." The kitchen is starting to get loud outside Carmy's office door, and he knows he has to get out there soon to save whatever is left of the peace.

"You don't have to do that, Carm," you exhale, and he can almost picture you, leaning against the kitchen bench, strands of hair loose that, if he was with you, he would be dying to push back into place.

"I want to." He means it, the words he says. "You're important to me, and I want you to know that. I do."

Carmy doesn't know it, but you're grinning on the other end of the line, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of his affection. His love.

"Okay." You whisper, "you're important to me too, Carm."

That means everything to Carmy, and he's so desperate to hold onto this, so desperate to not mess this all up. Not after Claire.

"I love you." It's unusual for him to say it first, but he does this time, and his voice soothes any stress you might have. He can hear you smile when you speak again and knows he'll be thinking about the sound of your words for the rest of the day.

"Love you too, bear, see you tonight."

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[laiiaaa]

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. 

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call. 

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…” 

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline. 

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Robbery of a Heart (one-shot)

Synopsis: Robberies are never fun to deal with. Unless it's a certain chef that steals your heart. That is something that can be gotten behind. Real robberies - not so much.

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy; Bear) Berzatto x fem!Reader

Genre: primarily fluff, maybe a bit of angst

Warnings: robbery, mentions of blood, stitches, wounds, swearing, mentions of suicide, minimally edited

Word count: 4041

Calling in just a couple of hours before the opening shift where Y/N should be on her way to help out, was the last thing she wanted to do. In fact, all she wanted was to make her coffee and have her usual bagel with cream cheese, tomatoes and basil before heading out the door and getting to The Bear. Instead, she was stuck in her apartment, with medics and police officers, as well as some concerned neighbours all around.

           Y/N huffed, her leg bouncing up and down as the paramedic finally snipped the ends of the bandages and told her to take it easy for the next few days and to go to the hospital in a week’s time.

           The clock glared at her from her peripheral, counting down the minutes to when her alarm would blare.

           Fuck! Why the fuck did this have to happen on a night when she had a shift the next morning!?

           She dragged a hand down her face when the cops and the medics finally left.

           Mrs Hanover from the third floor gave her a tight smile. “You’ll be okay, sweetie?”

           “I’ll be alright.” Y/N gave her an appreciative hug. “Thanks. Just – just gonna get some more rest.”

           “You do that,” the older woman patted her cheek. With one more backwards glance and a reassuring wave from Y/N, her apartment was vacated.

           Instantly, she latched the new locks, put the chain on and placed a chair underneath the door handle. No more surprises, not after that night.

           Plopping herself down on the couch, Y/N craned her neck back and stared at the ceiling. It was still dark outside, as it usually was when she returned home and more often than not nowadays, when she left for work.

She’d just close her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

           But the exhaustion and withdrawal from the adrenaline hit her like a brick, and, before Y/N knew it, she was out completely, even with the big living room lights still on. An hour and a half later though, she was startled by the tone of her alarm ringing from her room.

           The panic from the sound was much like when she’d first heard the broken lamp smash to the ground earlier in the night. Y/N’s heart instantly picked up, a hot and cold wave rushing through her veins as she snapped her head from one side to the other, but when she noted the door was closed, the chair still tightly underneath it, checked the closed windows and surveyed her closet and bathroom for anyone who might be hiding inside, Y/N finally found her phone on the floor between the duvet and the cover, turning the alarm off.

           Usually, it would take her an hour to get ready, but she knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate that day. Opening the screen, she went to her caller list and looked at the top number. One she’d called just that evening when entering her apartment before the big shitshow had gone down.

           Y/N stared down at her phone, the name “Carmy :)” staring right back at her for like twenty minutes before she abandoned the idea of contacting him. Maybe Sydney? But Syd would also flip her shit if she told what had happened. In the end, she settled on Richie. They had a sort of camaraderie going on, but he was the kind of person she knew would take Carmy’s well-being over hers. They butted heads, swore and almost beat up each other, but Y/N knew, Richie loved his cousin.

           She let out a shaky breath as the tone beeped, and then finally, after an agonizing wait, she heard his gruff voice pick up with a “the fuck you want?”

           “Hi Richie,” Y/N stuttered. “I - umm - I need to take today off.”

           “Seriously, Y/N?” he scoffed. “Do you know what time it is?"

           Her breathing was stuttered. “I just – I – shit!” she dragged a hand down her face. “Richie please, just do me a solid, okay? Just tell Carmy I’m sick, and I need today off.”

           “Well, you don’t sound fucking sick, so might telling me why you actually need today off?”

           Y/N worried her lip before saying, “You have to promise me you won’t tell Carmen this.”

           For a moment, it got very quiet on Richie’s end. She heard some shuffling and then a door thudded closed. He was probably in the freezer.

           “Why don’t you want me telling cousin why you’re not coming in?”

           “Richie-“

           “No,” he interrupted her. “You either tell me, or I’m coming over to yours.”

           “Jesus fucking Christ, fine!” she huffed. “I - uh. I sort of got robbed last night, well, this morning, I guess.”

“You got what?!”

“Richie!” she heard Carmy bellow from the other side of the phone even through the closed freezer door while she shushed the man.

“Please just don’t tell Carmen,” Y/N rushed out. “He’ll just worry himself sick, okay? I just need today off, and I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

“No,” Richie argued. “He has to know!”

“Please don’t! This is the last thing he needs, besides I’m alright, okay? The cops were here,  the locksmith already changed the locks and added a chain as well. Just,” she let out a long sigh. “Just please have my back here. I’ll owe you one.”

“Fuck!” Richie kicked at something, and a bucket or whatever crashed in the background. “Fine. Fine! But are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said. “Just a bit shaken up. As I said – the locks have already been changed, so I’m good.”

           There was indistinct grumbling from his side before Richie conceded. “If you say so.”

           “I do.” Y/N released a big breath. “Again – I’m sorry. But I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

           “Just – just take care of yourself, kid. I – shit! Okay… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Richie,” and with that, the call disconnected.

But she wasn’t good. Not really. What she hadn't told Richie and why she’d begged him not to say anything to Carmen, was that during that robbery, she’d gotten injured.

The robber hadn’t thought she’d been home, that anyone was home, and usually, that was true, with Y/N staying way past closing time at The Bear, but Carmen had insisted she go home earlier and get a proper night's rest for once.

They’d had a scuffle, and the man had grabbed one of Y/N’s knives, swinging at her, cutting a large gash right on her forearm. Luckily, that had been the extent of her injuries apart from when he’d pushed her into the table while running away. But she knew, if Carmy saw the stitches, the bandages, he’d flip his shit.

Y/N sat back down on the couch.

What a fucking night that had been.

She barely had any energy to do the basic things like eat and drink water, and her arm had started to massively hurt, so cleaning up the mess left behind by the robber was a complete bitch. By the time noon came, and her stomach grumbled for some food, she could only pop in some toast and put some slices of cheese on top, not even bothering to grill it.

There was a flat bottle of Coke in the fridge, filling the glass only halfway, but Y/N didn’t have the strength for anything else. She just wanted to sleep and forget about what had happened, about the terror coursing through her veins when the man had tried to charge at her, whether to simply restrain her or… or something worse. About how had it not been for the cat living in the flat above which had gotten in through her open living room window from the fire escape and jumped and scratched at the intruder, Y/N would have never gotten the chance to make a run for it.

She’d been by the door when the unmistakable sound of the drawer being pulled open made her throw one glance behind her shoulder.

Usually, Y/N liked the gleams of her knives. She kept them polished, and sharp so that every cut, and slice, and stroke was perfect. But now, all she saw was a murder weapon. One that would end her life.

He charged at her again, and she’d ducked down, right arm raised in defence as the robber slashed. Then her neighbours broke down the door. The ones from two floors down while the robber pushed her into the side of a table, an edge hitting her gut hard enough to leave her in a breathless heap on the floor.

While she lay on the ground, coddling her wounds, Mrs Hanover, the one who’d heard the ruckus happening above her own living room, had rushed to get the burly couple for help, and stroked her back as they dealt with the intruder.

The two men restrained the robber. One of them was a personal trainer, the other a bodybuilder (it’s how they’d actually met and fell in love with one another), and sometimes Y/N would help them build meal plans and actually make them taste out new recipes. She’d never been gladder to have taken that one invite when she’d first moved in for a Friday wine night.

Mrs Hanover had called the cops and the medics, but no one left until the robber had been handcuffed and the paramedics had checked Y/N over. Then, it was back to their own beds.

Except the fear remained.

And the sudden knocks at the door in that moment, didn’t help either.

Her daydreaming had basically taken away her whole day, as she glanced at the window, and the sun was setting over Chicago.

With a groan and a pained hiss, Y/N got up from the couch.

It was probably the guys, coming to check on her.

But when she removed the chair and unlocked the door, the chain still on, she reminded herself to look through the peephole.

It wasn’t the guys from 2B. It was the last guy she wanted to see that day.

Carmy lifted his free hand, the other holding a takeout bag, and knocked again.

Y/N stood still behind the door, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

He shuffled around a bit, an unsure gaze thrown at the entrance.

“Leave,” she begged. “Please go, Carmy.”

Y/N didn’t have the energy, she didn’t want to tell him what’d happened. She hoped Richie hadn’t spilled the beans, but whatever he’d told Carmen, hadn’t been enough to stop him from worrying.

He raised his hand again and rapped it against the door. “Y/N?” this time he called out. “Richie told me you’re sick. Something about pneumonia or a lung infection?”

Of fucking course! Y/N cursed Carmen’s cousin. Pneumonia! Couldn’t he have told him she had a cold? Of course, pneumonia would send him running to hers. She thanked her lucky stars she’d changed into something with long sleeves to cover the bandages at least.

Y/N waited for a few more seconds before removing the chain and opening the door.

Carmy’s face pretty much lit up, a soft smile blooming on his lips as he looked at her.

“Hey, Y/N. You alright?”

“Hey, Bear.” She smiled back at him and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Richie is a fucking drama queen. I have the sniffles, not fucking pneumonia. You didn’t have to come running.”

Carmen simply shrugged. “Well, Richie seemed pretty worried. And I brought some food.” He raised the paper bag where a delicious scent wafted from, and not only did Y/N’s nose agree, but so did her stomach, eliciting a loud rumble. Carmy smiled upon hearing that. “Thought you might not have the energy to cook.”

Oh, he had no idea.

She sighed and rubbed at her neck, giving him a tight-lipped grimace, she hoped passed for a smile. “Thanks, Bear.”

As Carmy lifted the bag for her to take he paused, not letting go even when Y/N had grabbed the handle.

“I do have a question though – why did you unlock the door, but not let me in?”

Busted. So fucking busted.

“Umm,” she stammered while Carmen started to take steps closer to her, Y/N retreating inside her apartment as he followed. He closed the door with a small thud.

“In fact,” he placed the bag on the floor, crossing his arms. “I think what Richie and, in turn what you said to him, is complete and utter bullshit. You’re not sick. But something is very wrong.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head automatically. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just as I said – Richie is too dramatic for his own good.”

Carmen let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Look, I don’t know what kind of an idiot you take me for, but I know you. And I can see in your face, that something is amiss, so just please,” now his voice was pleading, eyes begging. “Please tell me what is going on with you? I was worried sick today, thinking that maybe you needed to go to the hospital, but no one was there for you. So, please, Y/N…”

And the way he said her name, so full of desperation, of care, she almost caved, but no. She couldn’t possibly put that sort of stress on him.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

“No, you’re not, I can see it in your face. Please, Y/N,” and then he made a mistake.

He grabbed at her forearm, and before she could move it away from his touch, his roughened palm had wrapped around the wound. The squeeze was meant to be comforting, but in that moment, it was anything but.

Y/N whimpered in pain, and the second the sound came out of her mouth, Carmy took a horrified step back. And just her luck as well – she’d started bleeding through the bandages and the sweatshirt, which he obviously noticed.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “I cut myself really bad, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” his words were snappy. “You don’t cut yourself like that unless you’re running around and tripping with a knife or deliberately do such a thing.” Something flashed in his eyes, and Y/N didn’t like that look one bit. “Or unless someone else cut you.”

She scoffed, taking a step back and casting her eyes to the ground. “It was an accident, okay? Needed to get some stitches, which is why I asked Richie to tell you I’d be out today. I didn’t know how long it would take in the ER.”

Carmy’s steps came closer, as he tried to take her palm, but Y/N wrapped her uncut arm around the bicep of her other one, turning her head to the side so as to not look at him.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Carmen’s voice was soft. “Please don’t do that, okay? I’m worried. What happened?”

“I told you, -,”

“No, you didn’t,” he insisted. “You lied to me, and I’d like to know why. I’d also like to know why you made Richie lie -”

“I got robbed, okay!?” the words exploded out of her mouth before she could push them behind her teeth.

           That made him take a physical step back, eyes instantly shooting around to survey her apartment. She was a messy person as is, but there, by the corner where the fridge was, was the chair she’d rested against the door, and still on the ground pieces of broken glass shone when looking at it from an angle, and oh god, she’d forgotten to clean up all the blood, some of the droplets having dried down to a russet tone, like a dalmatian’s spots on the white tiles.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he seemed genuinely hurt when he finally spoke up. “Did you, what? Think I’d make you come in?”

“Of course not! I didn’t want this reaction though! I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Of course, I’m gonna worry! God, even if you have a stupid fucking cold I’m gonna worry!”

“Well, don’t! I’m fine!”

“You were injured!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I get cut at work all the time.”

“No, you got cut by someone who intended to do you harm. What if it was worse?” Carmen’s breath got stuck in his chest. “What if he’d hurt you worse? I – I can’t –,”

“But he didn’t okay?” Y/N softened her tone, seeing a wave of panic rush over Carmy. “He didn’t, alright. Yes, I have a few stitches now, and will probably have a long scar, and it hurts like an absolute bitch, but he didn’t hurt me any worse than that.”

           “Yes, but what if he had?” Carmy took her by the shoulders. “What if you had ended up with your head hurt? What if he’d stabbed you? What if,” he choked on his words, silver slowly lining the bottom of his eyes. “What if you ended up dead?”

           That made Y/N shut up completely, her lips pressed hard in a thin line.

           She knew about Michael. Of course, she did. She knew, he’d left Carmy The Beef after he’d committed suicide, and how many internal scars Carmen had because of it. Knowing she’d now added to that pain, made Y/N physically ill.

           “Do – do you not trust me like that?” His thumbs gently brushed her biceps. “Just – I don’t –,” he took a moment and collected himself. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me you went through something like that…”

           “Carmy, no!” She pulled him into a hug and felt his hands wrap tightly around her waist, anchoring himself to her, making sure she was safe and sound and alive. “I trust you, of course I do! It’s just… you already do so much for me… you already take care of me, like fucking now, bringing me food and shit. I don’t need you to worry for me like that any more than you already do.”

           “And what if I want to worry about you?” he muttered the question into the skin of her neck, grip only tightening. “What if I want to spend my days thinking about if you’ve eaten, or how well you slept? If you’re doing okay or maybe need a break? What if I,” he pulled back, taking a deep breath. “What if I want to take care of you when you’re sick… or hurt? What if I want to try and make it better for you?”

           He pressed his forehead to Y/N’s, and she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her from the bottom of his lashes – that fear and hesitation, that anxiety of being rejected or laughed at.

           Y/N glanced down at his lips, brushing a thumb along the bottom one. “You uh – you want to worry like that about everyone? Or just… me in particular?”

           She felt him release a stuttered breath before he whispered, “There is no one else but you.”

           Now Y/N was the one whose breath hitched, especially as their eyes met, cerulean pools boring into her Y/E/C ones.

           Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, and she was sure Carmy could feel its erratic rhythm where his chest was pressed tightly to hers. A soothing hand ran down her back and settled on the small of her waist.

           And then she regretted it. All of it. For being so stupid and thinking she’d be burdening him with that information, for trying to reject his help, his care, because who the hell was she kidding – that moment when Y/N’d felt the knife split her skin open, the first person she’d thought of calling, the first person she knew would come running for her was Carmy.

           Not the police, not the ambulance – but her sweet Bear.

           His hand slipped up along her waist, brushing against her stomach and the side of her breast before settling and cupping her cheek, Carmy tilting her head so she looked at him.

           It took the man a while to gather the courage to say the words, and he was full of nerves as he did so, Y/N had no doubts about that, but she pretty much thought she died when he said, “Can I kiss you?”

           Tears welled in her eyes, and all she could do was whisper a small, “Please,” before she was leaning in. Thankfully, he didn’t hesitate to respond, and they sunk into one another as their lips finally met.

Carmy was very mindful of Y/N’s injured arm, as he wrapped a hand around her waist and neck, holding her close to him, but not touching the wounded limb, while she put her hand against his chest, right in the centre, relishing the feeling of his heart thudding against it, loving the rhythm it beat in, as it sped up when she answered to his tongue’s question and she opened her mouth inviting it in. It was like her own tried to match the rhythm.

The kiss was searing, and filled with passion, months of pent-up pining finally put to rest from both ends, but also soothing. It was like coming home and being wrapped in a soft and warm blanket. Coming to her safe home. Finally.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, but not completely, Y/N having pretty much a death grip on Carmy’s shirt, and she didn’t know if she had the strength not to rip it off his chest, while his own hands had moved to cup her jaw, not letting her run away from the all-consuming kisses they’d shared.

She could feel he was hard, the prominent bulge in his jeans brushing against her thigh as they’d kissed, and Y/N couldn’t lie and say her own underwear hadn’t soaked the moment Carmy had moaned into her mouth, but she knew she wasn’t up for that. Not yet. And so did he, as his eyes jotted to the scarlet patch on the arm of the sweatshirt.

           “Come,” he was breathing heavily, but a worried look had appeared on his face. “I’m gonna change your bandages, and then you’re gonna eat while I vacuum up the glass on the floor.”

           “Carmy you don’t have to do that…”

           His responding smile was soft. “And you said I could take care of you. So let me.”

           On instinct, she wanted to argue but bit down on her lip. Maybe she deserved to be taken care of.

           With expert skill, Carmy redressed the wound, placing the blood-soaked shirt in her dirty hamper while helping her get a new clean one on, and then the two settled on the same couch Y/N had spent her day, but not before, as he promised, he cleaned up the remaining glass, she hadn’t had the energy to.

           Resting her forehead against Carmy’s chest as he ran a hand up and down her back was the most soothing notion Y/N knew. They stayed on the sofa like that for a while, no TV on in the background, no nothing, just the two of them, soaking up one another’s touch until a thought entered Y/N’s mind.

           She snorted.

           Carmen pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What’s so funny?”

           “It’s stupid.”

           “Well, will you tell me anyway?” she could hear the smile in his voice.

           “I just,” Y/N huffed, twisting her head so she could look up at him. “I realized, you’re a better robber than whoever the fuck broke into my apartment.”

           A furrow appeared between his brows, his gentle fingers brushing against her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

           “I mean he didn’t even get to steal anything, and yet I let you in ,and you’ve already taken something. Or maybe I even gave it to you.”

           “And what’s that?”

           “My heart.”

           And though it was terribly cheesy, Carmen didn’t dare laugh, not as a beautiful smile bloomed on his face, eyes filled with love. “I’ll keep it safe. If you let me, that is.”

           “I trust you.”

           “Thank you.” And the kiss he gave her was a seal of promise Y/N could feel in her very bones. She knew, though no longer hers, her heart would be safe with him. He wouldn’t break it.

           And maybe she could allow this one robbery, as long as he took care of her like that.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: Please someone get me a Carmy :(

P.S. Carmen tags are open :)

P.S.S what did you think?

P.S.S.S. please don't repost or translate on other platforms!

[newtkive]

confectionary clash - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)

summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!

as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.

that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.

carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.

on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.

richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.

richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.

now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.

it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.

except on days like this.

you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.

upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.

“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.

you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.

“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.

“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.

“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.

a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.

as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.

richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.

a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.

“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.

__

in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.

"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.

"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.

“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.

your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.

richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.

richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.

“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.

richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.

“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.

however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.

with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.

outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.

the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.

turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.

throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.

“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”

“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“

“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”

“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.

carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”

an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”

“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.

“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.

you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind

“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.

a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.

the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.

“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”

“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.

your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.

carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.

“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.

“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.

“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.

nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.

it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.

you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.

with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.

you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”

the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.

thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.

“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.

[berzatoe]

hi! just thinking about carmy and the reader having a heated argument and then just ending up making out while in the middle of discussing

thank you <3

Hiiii thanks for this!! Sorry I’m just now getting around to it xo

He’d be such a little shit constantly.

Wether it’d be taking it out on you when things got too busy and hectic in the kitchen, or getting overwhelmed and throwing a fit, screaming his lungs out, chewing your head off if you were in his way, he was a absolute nuisance. You hated Carmy on bad days.

But on good days, he was really good. He’d take extra time to explain things to you, run you through recipes and cooking techniques. You’d stay late and have deep conversations, muse about the future of the restaurant together. It always made your heart beat fast and your cheeks flush when you’d see him the next day. He had a gentleness that was almost no where to be found under high-stress situations.

Today was one of those. It was a bad day. It was busy. The truck came in late and half empty. And you kept upsetting Carmy.

Strike one: you’d ripped the green tape like an asshole.

Carmy came storming into the kitchen holding it up for all to see, “Who the fuck does this? Chefs? How many times do I have to tell you to stop. Ripping. Tape. Like. Assholes!” He punctuated each word.

“My bad, chef.” You responded, barely paying him a glance as you busied yourself with work.

He came over to you then, as everyone went back to work, and sternly spoke; “I expect more from you chef, really.”

“Sorry, chef.” You responded, still staring down at your hands chopping scallions.

“Look at me… please.” The way his voice sounded when he said the last word drew you in, for some reason.

You looked up and met his icy eyes. “It won’t happen again, chef.”

He simply nodded and walked away, getting back to his own work and unsettling you for the rest of the day.

Strike two: walking out during rush.

You just had to get out of there. You were sweating so much you were almost convinced you had heat exhaustion. Your head was pounding and the general noise of the restaurant and kitchen along with the staff was making you dizzy.

Not to mention Carmy’s yelling. Jesus Christ, he had a set of lungs. Each passing minute of this day, you were getting more and more fed up with him. He had a mean streak in that kitchen, likely, you assumed, something he’d picked up in New York from the big shots.

Or maybe his parents, or maybe his clear inability to confront his emotions, you didn’t know and you were desperately trying to get your mind off of him.

In the heart of the kitchen, the bell ringing, the printer spitting out countless receipts, dishes clattering, and above all, Carmy’s angry voice booming, you felt like you were going to pass out. Feeling your mouth go dry and fingers go numb, you sprinted out of the restaurant, leant against the back alley and finally breathed.

When you collected yourself and returned to the kitchen 5 minutes later, Carmy was pissed.

“Where the fuck were you, chef? I needed you!” He shouted once he saw you walk through the back.

“I needed a minute, chef.” You responded calmly. He got close to you again.

“Are you blind, chef? Do you not see how swamped we are? Hmm? You didn’t even want to let me know?” You were thankful he wasn’t shouting anymore, but his voice was still venomous, shooting to kill.

You turned around in looked him in the eyes, a silent plead to let the moment go.

“What is it?” He asked, confused.

“I just got really overwhelmed, Carmy…. I needed a second, okay? I’m here to help now.” You said the words gently.

Carmy straightened up, nodded, and rubbed his fist in circles against his chest. That was that.

You thought you were finally done with fighting him for the day, until close.

Strike 3: the corner

It was late. You were tired. Everyone had gone home. You were quickly wrapping up your closing duties and sprinting around the restaurant so you could get home and cuddled up in your bed as soon as possible.

You weren’t paying attention, and you had your earbuds in, listening to music to help you get in your closing groove.

You were rounding a corner when you crashed straight into Carmy. You recoiled back and rubbed your nose as he rubbed his head. Pulling one earbud out, you glanced down. At your feet were 3 broken cans of red sauce, spilled onto the newly mopped floor.

You looked up to see Carmy glaring at you.

“CORNER! I said fuckin’ corner….” He groaned.

You shot down and began picking up the cans.

“Those earbuds… take ‘em out, right now.” He reached out and opened his palm.

“Are you serious?” You began prepping the mop.

“Yes, chef.” With the tone he took, the title almost sounded degrading.

You grit your teeth and placed them in his out-stretched hand.

“Great, now I have to be here another 30 minutes so we can get that cleaned and dry.”

“Fine, Go home, Carmy. I can lockup. I’ll manage. Please, leave.” You said.

He looked taken aback.

“No. I can’t leave the premises until every employee is gone.”

“Who made that rule?” It sounded like he had made it up on the spot.

“I did…. You gotta get home safe, it’s the city.”

You rolled your eyes at this and he looked at you confused.

“What?”

“Nothing, chef.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, tell me.”

“I’ll be fine. I want you to go. I can take care of myself”

“Im not sure you can, chef.” He said it with a mocking chuckle that made you clench your fists.

“You underestimate me carmy. That’s all you do. Since I started, you don’t think I can do anything right.”

“Because you can’t!” He shouted exasperatedly.

“Yes I can! You don’t give me the chance! You have no faith in me!”

“It was our busiest day in a month and you were a mess the entire time!” He prickled

“I was a mess? I ripped tape wrong, yeah. I took a 5 minute break because your damn-near verbal abuse of the staff was overwhelming me, and I’m sorry I ran into you, but seriously Carmy, get a hold of yourself. How are you gonna run a restaurant if you can’t even regulate your own stupid emotions?” You huffed at the end of your little speech, slightly pleased for sticking up for yourself.

Carmy was not pleased. In fact he looked kinda scary right now. You couldn’t read him, but you could tell what you said affected him.

“Leave. You’re cut.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re cut.”

“You’re firing me?” You scoffed

“Leave your apron on the counter I’ll email your last check.”

You were flabbergasted. You searched his eyes, hoping he was bluffing.

“Go home, Chef.” He repeated.

“You know Carmy, I really don’t think you’re a bad person. You’re not a bad person.”

“Shut up.” He interrupted you.

“You get overwhelmed like me.”

“Stop”

“And it pushes you until you’re at a breaking point before you can check yourself. But you’re a good boss. And you’ve changed this restaurant. And you’re a good person.”

He doesn’t protest to this statement, he doesn’t say anything.

You begin to turn around to leave, mustering a goodbye;

“Thanks for the opportunity, Chef Car—” you’re suddenly pulled back around by a hand latched to your elbow. You’re now flush to Carmy’s chest, noses touching.

And all at once, your lips are touching. At first you’re confused, trying to understand if this is really happening, if Carmy Berzatto was really kissing you. You could sense the same sort of anxious stiffness from him. You were still so mad.

But his lips were smooth and gentle, and your stomach filled with butterflies even though a minute ago you could’ve stabbed him.

At first it was more like a short peck. The two of you pulled apart and looked into each others eyes, scanning scared and eager faces.

You wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and placed your hand in his hair, urging him to come closer. He obliged, returning and deepening the kiss with fervor.

His strong arm came around to hold the small of your back, his other resting at the nape of your neck, hand stretching out and thumb brushing against your jaw.

You softly licked into his mouth, earning a guttural sound from him in response.

After that, he was everywhere, pulling you close, hands gingerly traveling the expanses of your clothed body. You smelled his cologne and sweat after the work day, you tasted a bit of the cigarette left on his tongue from his smoke break, your hands twisted around his soft curls. Every sense was filled with Carmy.

The kiss was incredible, you had to admit. You never imagined Carmy could kiss like this, could give you this much of himself, all of this raw emotion. He was so tender with every beginning brush of his lips, before slowly becoming ravenous and desperate for more. Your stomach was in knots and you were getting antsy, wanting more too and knowing you should put an end to it.

Luckily, he pulled away for air first, saving you the chore. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing rapidly.

“That was…” he began, slightly speechless.

“A one time thing.” You finished quickly, pulling away.

Carmy met your panicked gaze and just fuckin’ smirked at you, as if he knew how severely you were lying to yourself.

You grabbed your bag in a hurry and began walking towards the door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Carmy asked.

“That depends. Am I fired?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then yeah, I guess. In like… a purely professional work way, yes you will see me tomorrow.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” He smiled and opened the door for you, starting to walk out along side you.

“Um.. what are you doing?”

“Walking you to your car,” Carmy replied, “company policy.”

He winked at you and you turned your head, blushing into the night sky.

[collecting-stories]

Sweet Nothing - Carmen Berzatto

Request: I love Taylor inspired fics!! And I adore your writing style!! Maybe The Last Time or Sweet nothings for Carmy X reader?

Summary: No plot really, just Carmy and reader hanging out.

A/N: This is really more of a drabble style without much depth outside of just fluff. I tried to make it longer there's just not much of a plot to work with to do that I feel like. Also I made a delicious vegan clam chowder the other night for dinner, on a side note.

TS Anthology Series | The Bear Masterlist

...you're in the kitchen humming...

The worst part of dating a chef was the one thing that everyone always assumed would be the best part. He could cook, naturally, and Carmy could cook better than a whole lot of other really talented chefs but that didn't mean he cooked at home. Running a restaurant meant being at work more than he was home and usually, by the time he got back at night, neither of you were particularly interested in cooking anything that required greater skill than boiling water. Sometimes even that was too much. Your family, and your friends too, always commented on how lucky you were to have a 'personal chef' as if Carmy was just in the kitchen 24/7, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted to eat. You always laughed and agreed but what you wanted to say was that sometimes he didn't even want to look at a pan or a knife when he was home. 

This week, especially, felt like hell. You'd seen him for thirty minutes two days ago when you stopped in for lunch but otherwise you were what your grandmother described as 'two ships passing in the night'. You didn't think you could really count passing out next to his already asleep body on the queen mattress you kept meaning to replace an actual relationship. It wasn't always so bad, sometimes it was better, most of the time it felt worse. The Bear was getting ready to launch and Carmy's attention was hyperfocused on not failing before he started and you were busy with your own work load and neither of you had ever been willing to cave on work, even if it meant actually spending time with each other. Which was maybe why your relationship worked...or maybe it was some sort of 'once in a blue moon' that your relationship worked because at this point you were shocked that neither of you had called it off. Of course, that would require seeing each other...probably. 

"You know my first thought was that someone broke into our apartment and was cooking dinner," you announced, stopping in the kitchen entryway. Carmy turned to look over his shoulder at you, blue eyes a little glazed over (either from lack of sleep or that happy sort of numbness that came from being home and not having to see anyone, Richie, for the rest of the day). 

"Was this person like, a robber...like a robber just cooking you dinner?" He asked, a rare smile appearing. God, he couldn't remember the last time he smiled this week. Or last week. 

"They weren't making me dinner, just in general, making dinner. They broke in, got hungry, made a sandwich or something, and then...like they'd steal my laptop or something." You replied, pulling your sweater over your head before crossing the small space the apartment provided to kiss your boyfriend, "granted I'm glad it's you and not a robber."

"You said you were home early today," he replied, turning back to the food he was cooking as you walked into the bedroom to change. 

"I know, but that was like, one in the morning and you literally gave me a thumbs up without even lifting your hand off the bed in response so...wasn't exactly counting on you coming home," you explained, changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt, anything to get out of the clothes you'd been wearing all day, "besides I didn't mean it in a like, you have to come home because I'm home, just like a 'hey I'm actually going to be home today' kind a thing." 

"Richie's training this week and everything else is pretty much getting there."

"Oh well, pretty much getting there? Call Cicero, you can open tomorrow," you teased, "since you're not a robber and you are making me dinner, what are you making?"

"Clam chowder," he said, sounding almost like he didn't believe it himself. He wasn't exactly a big fan of soups, mostly because he found them boring and limited, but you loved them. Especially when cold weather hit and then all you wanted was some soup and grilled cheese and extra bread. When he'd made fun of you for your tastes once you had shrugged and told him you couldn't help it if your tastes were basic ("I didn't go to the CIA or NOMA or whatever. I like what I like").

"Clam chowder? Are you shitting me?" You asked, peering over his shoulder into the pot he had on the stove.

"I am not, in fact, shitting you." He replied. 

"Insane," you hooked your arms around his stomach and leaned against his back, not at all concerned about the fact that he was still technically cooking, "you're like the best boyfriend ever, have I ever told you that?"

"You tell me that every time I cook for you which seems like maybe you're only using me..." He joked. You kissed the back of his neck and then his cheek when he turned his head to the side, forcing another smile from him. 

It was hard to comprehend sometimes, to the point that Carmy literally had to remind himself, that the home the two of you had created (though hectic and sometimes not occupied) was genuinely the most calming place he'd ever been. Growing up with his mom and dad, and even Mikey and Sugar, had been like living on a landmine, waiting for it to explode on him if he made a wrong move. It never felt like that here, even when the outside world started to feel like that. 

"Do you need help?" You asked, letting him go and moving to the bar cart you had in the living room, in search of a good wine. 

"Nah, I'm almost done," he replied, "did I tell you about the gas line?"

You held a glass out to him, taking a long sip of your own, "no, what happened with the gas line?" 

Carmy started to retell the story, moving around the kitchen easily while you took a seat and listened to him, allowing him to capture your entire attention. The busy schedules and the barely seeing each other and the stress felt like it would crush you sometimes but it was entirely worth it to be able to come home early, at least every once in a while, and just sit there, listening to Carmy. 

[atrwriting]

the bee, the bird, the bear -- uncle!carmy x babysitter!you

as always, warnings: major character death, past child neglect and abuse situations, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, and eventual smut

two

mallory always woke up to the sound of carmen’s alarm. 

it made him uneasy — thinking about how light of a sleeper a four year old was. he would stumble out of his room, hair standing up in each direction, pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips and white shirt right across his chest — while she would lightly pad out from her room with equally messy hair, but clutching her blanket and stuffed animals. her big, brown eyes would connect with carmy’s — and he didn’t know how to place that look. he didn’t know what she wanted, what she didn’t expect… but for whatever reason… he knew she didn’t like being alone. 

“only birds are up this early,” he yawned, shuffling into the kitchen with her trailing behind him. 

today, mallory was dressed in princess pajamas, clutching a blanket and a teddy bear. he didn’t recognize either of those items — probably new and from target yesterday. the girl didn’t respond as she climbed onto the barstool of the breakfast bar. 

“you pick those out at the store?” he asked, pulling out two bowls. 

the girl nodded, clutching her bear tighter. carmen was used to kids who were full of energy, an annoying amount of energy — he didn’t really understand what to do or say next. it’s not like he was versed in the ways of young kids. he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he pondered his options. 

“frosted flakes?” he asked, poking through the cabinet. he usually kept frosted flakes, as they were his own personal favorite — but then he spotted another box. lucky charms. he snorted at the sight, probably thanks to you. “or… lucky charms?” 

“lucky charms,” mallory whispered, a smile in her voice. 

that carmy could do. carmy could make food. 

it took barely any time, unfortunately, but it made him feel better to know she was excited about something and would eat something. he could work with that. 

“(y/n) will be here soon,” carmy said in between bites. “do you know what… disney… demand is?” 

as she chewed on her cereal, she scrunched her eyes up at carmy. she didn’t answer, but the look on her face suggested that she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“the movie… thing,” he attempted to ramble, waving his hand in the air, trying to catch himself from swearing. “with the… um, princess movies.” 

her eyes widened then. with her mouth full, she asked, “disney plus?!” 

he nodded then, chewing his own food. “yeah, yeah — that thing. i don’t know how to get it, or set it up, but, uh… (y/n) said she’d do it for you today.” 

the girl smiled then, and clutched her bear tighter. she didn’t respond, but her look of excitement was enough to make carmy feel content. 

“did you name it?” he asked, gesturing to the stuffed animal. 

“bear,” she immediately responded, eyes on her cereal. 

carmy almost snorted at that. 

“what?” she asked, sounding almost offended. how the fuck could a four year old sound offended? “it’s a bear.” 

“no, no-“ carmy sputtered, trying to keep from speaking while chewing his food and upsetting his niece. “my, um — people call me bear. that’s my nickname.” 

“oh,” she immediately said, scrunching her eyebrows together once more. “is (y/n) mrs. bear?” 

“what?” he choked on his frosted flakes. his eyes were wild and wide as he stared down at her, hoping to reason with her and keep her from mentioning anything like that to you. “no-no-“ 

“she’s pretty,” his niece settled, going back to her food. 

carmy knew kids said whack shit like that sometimes, but where the fuck did that come from? he didn’t know what to do, so he changed the subject. “do you have a nickname?” 

she nodded. “kid.” 

“kid?” carmy asked as a question before he could think twice. 

she nodded again, seemingly unbothered. “my mom’s friends would say, ‘kid, go upstairs,’ while they hung out downstairs. downstairs smelled funny, so i wanted to go upstairs.” 

carmen was almost at a loss for words at that. he changed the subject again. “do you want a new nickname?” 

she stopped for a second, and then shrugged. “it would have to fit. like kid.” 

“what about…” he trailed off, looking for anything to salvage the normalcy of the situation. “…bird?” 

“bird!?” she yelled excitedly, laughing. “i’m not a bird!” 

“you wake up early like one,” carmen replied, finishing his cereal. 

“you wake up early, too,” she fired back, smiling. “does that make you a bird?” 

“i’m the bear, remember?” 

she smiled softly, nodding. “i’m bird, and you’re bear.” 

you had arrived not too long after that, knowing carmy had to be at work soon. mallory had found her way onto the couch, cuddled up with her bear and blanket you had bought the day prior. 

“she’s up early,” you whispered to carmy. 

he nodded. “she said some funny shit earlier.” 

you scrunched your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to go on. 

“her mom’s place…” he trailed off, shaking his head. carmy was throwing on his coat and shoving things in his pockets as he contemplated the memory. “i know what it was, but… sounded weird.” 

you pursed your lips, not really knowing what to say. 

carmy didn’t look at you then, just folded his lips underneath his teeth and shook his head. he bid you goodbye, to which you returned the farewell, and went back into the living room to check in on mallory. 

there, she poked her head up when she heard you come into the room. 

“i’m bird,” she simply said. 

you raised your eyebrows as a smile crept on your face. “h-hi, bird. sleep well?” 

she nodded before falling back down onto the pillow, snuggling further into her blanket and stuffed animal. you sighed and sat down at the television, picking up the remote to set up the disney plus account. 

you spotted the two empty bowls of cereal in the sink as you walked in, and smiled to yourself. hopefully one of those were hers from this morning, and she had been the one to empty it. 

——————

“i like tianna,” mallory announced, flipping through the movie selection. “let’s watch it again.” 

you laughed, nodding. “are we having a movie day today? or do you want to get out and do something?” 

that puzzled her for a second. “like what?” 

you shrugged. “there’s a tulip festival going on right now. we could bring flowers to your aunt sugar, and we could bring some to your uncle’s restaurant.” 

“what are we going to call sugar’s baby?” mallory asked. “cub? like bear cub?” 

you giggled. “that’s cute, mallory, sure. you could ask your aunt.” 

“i’m bird,” she insisted. 

“i’m sorry,” you laughed. “that’s cute, bird.” 

she smiled triumphantly. “i want to see the flowers. can we go now?” 

“sure, bird,” you replied, pulling out your phone to send carmy a quick text. “want to get changed first? i think we bought you a flower shirt yesterday. want to wear that?” 

“yes!” she giggled excitedly, jumping up from her spot on the couch and running to her bedroom. 

you: hey, can i take her to the tulip festival? 

carmy: sure. stop by the restaurant after for lunch. 

bird had adorned her new floral top and pink jeans. a slight blush rose to her cheeks as her smile grew over her entire face. 

“want me to do your hair?” you asked, fishing around for a brush and hair accessories in her drawers. 

“can you do it like tianna!?” she asked. 

“i don’t have a tiara at the moment…” you giggled. “but what if i did a bun?” 

she looked sad at that. 

“maybe we could get a tiara soon?” you offered. “but today we do a bun? two buns?” 

“two buns?” she asked, taken aback. 

you chuckled before ushering her to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. you lightly brushed out her hair, and sectioned it down the middle. you pulled either side on top of her head, and tied off the buns. 

“i call them space buns,” you said, touching up her hair. 

she smiled. “i like them!” 

you giggled. “come on, bird.” 

the tulip festival was a lot quieter today, and you were thankful. there weren’t any weird people walking around — just small business floral shops trying to make the street beautiful. with bird being so cute and friendly, most people had offered her free flowers. she took them, smiled at the shop owners, and thanked them. 

“so pretty,” bird giggled, clutching the stems in her hands. 

you could cry at how much happiness seemed to be flowing through the little girl at that moment. nothing could wash away what the girl had most likely been through before she had come into carmy’s life — but you could do your best. 

“wanna show carmy?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“bear!” was all she screamed, a smile spreading across her face. 

you took that as a yes. 

the shop was only open for dinner that day, so you weren’t worried about distrusting too much of the restaurant happenings of the day. when you and bird walked in, sugar was there to greet you both. 

“is that my favorite little girl?” sugar asked with excitement. “those are such pretty flowers!” 

bird took half of the flowers and handed them to sugar. “for you and cub!” 

sugar gently took the flowers from her niece and smiled widely. “thank you, sweetie. oh my god, these are beautiful… but, um — who’s cub? pete?” 

“no!” bird laughed, and then pointed to her stomach. 

sugar’s awestruck eyes followed where her niece’s fingers were pointing on her stomach, and sugar threw her head back in laughter. sugar laid a soft hand in her stomach, the other holding the flowers, as she spoke. “that’s a perfect name. thank you for the flowers, sweetheart.” 

“i’m bird,” was all she responded, smiling. 

“bird?” sugar repeated as a question, eyes blinking with a smile. 

“yeah!” bird replied, before walking away. 

you giggled before trailing after her. over your shoulder, you called, “i think carmy named her.”

you followed bird into the kitchen where carmy’s office was tucked into on the side. there were a few people in the kitchen, but they hadn’t noticed you guys yet, and carmen wasn’t with them. you found the exhausted, curly headed man perched over his log book, twirling a pencil. 

“bear!” squealed the little girl, shoving her flowers in his face. 

“woah-woah—“ he was caught off guard, but recovered quickly when he realized who it was and what she was holding. “did you just pick these?” 

“yeah!” 

“they’re beautiful,” carmy stated. “did you have fun?” 

bird nodded. “we watched princess and the frog before.” 

“three times,” you piped up from behind bird. 

carmy laughed, throwing a quick glance your way as he smiled. you returned the smile, not expecting the happy look on his face in reference to you. he turned back to his niece, and asked, “are you hungry?” 

carmy had done what he does best — make really great food. 

carmy had recreated one of syd’s dishes — cola braised ribs with risotto. when bird had seen the plate before her, her eyes went wide. her smile was big, and excited, and she forgot her manners when she immediately dug into her food. 

you were thankful it only took her a few days to become comfortable enough to eat — you weren’t sure what you would’ve done, but you tried not to think about it. 

“fuck…” carmy gasped from across the room, glancing down at his phone. he had pressed a firm hand across his mouth, fingers dragging along the stubbled skin. he froze in place as his crystal blue eyes couldn’t believe what they saw. 

“you good?” you asked, refraining from eating now that you knew something was bothering carmy. 

“i was supposed to register her for group meetings with the therapist,” he stated. “cps will show up if i don’t get my shit together.” 

“they just dropped her off,” you shrugged, walking towards him. “can you do it now?” 

you would’ve offered to do it for him, but that felt a little more personal than just calling around for referrals. plus, she was carmy’s kid — not yours. you didn’t want to overstep. 

“i just feel like there’s a million things i’m forgetting all of the time,” he sighed, speaking quietly. “she’s not a restaurant — she’s a living, breathing thing, and i-i don’t want to fuck her up — shit, i don’t want to mess things up for her.” 

you swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest. carmy was speaking so low that bird wasn’t listening — she hadn’t even looked up from her food as all of her attention was on it, thankfully. in a quiet voice, you spoke, “this might  not mean much, but… you’re a lot better than what she had, i think. it’s only been a few days, too. you’ll get there, carm.” 

he nodded, folding his bottom lip underneath his top as he clutched his phone in his hand. his eyes appeared to stare into nothing as they were framed right over her head. tina had come over to speak with her, now, bringing her attention elsewhere, leaving carmen with more room to fade into his own self-doubt. 

“i know it’s only been a few days…” he muttered, shaking his head slightly and licking his bottom lip. “but i just… i didn’t expect this. i wasn’t prepared for this.” 

your vision went red. “cut the shit,” you snapped. 

he turned towards you immediately with electric, blue eyes that were stunned beyond belief. that snapped him out of his self doubt. you had swore, and frankly insulted your boss — but you didn’t care. 

“no one was more underprepared than her, carm,” you stated. 

he stared at you then. he no longer appeared caught off guard — but as though realization had hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“you’re right,” he agreed, now nodding his head. his hands were now placed on his hips, lip still folded underneath, eye-bags still embedded deep — but now there was at least inspiration. carmen was motivated. 

you smiled at him then, and gave him a reassuring nod. 

the last thing that little girl needed was carmen berzatto getting cold feet. 

---

lmk what u guys think :) I'm sorry its slow BUT JUST WAIT I PROMISE