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writers-hes · 11 months

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Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

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It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called.

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you.

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift.

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage.

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave.

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown.

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.”

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring.

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position.

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand.

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two.

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already.

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map.

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead.

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?”

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,”

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged.

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you.

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers.

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room.

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers.

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said.

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk.

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was.

“I change my scenario,” she said.

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck.

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?”

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,”

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo.

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil.

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said.

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know.

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours.

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth.

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant.

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather.

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks.

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again.

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground.

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,”

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,”

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily.

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #fanfiction #fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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sunflowersteves · 11 months

Note

can you write about carmy getting his first blowjob????

the way I crave this man is insane 😩 of course I can, hun

pairing || carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, reader has manicured nails, SMUT, blowjob, mention of eating out, praise kink, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

masterlist

It was way past closing time at the restaurant. All of the other employees had left, finishing their duties, while Richie was furiously cleaning the floors. His arm felt like it was about to fall off as he scrubbed the dirty tile.

Carmen, on the other hand, was chopping vegetables. His hand moved fast across the cutting board, making thumping sounds as the knife sliced each carrot.

Richie scoffed. “Do you seriously need to do this right now, cousin?”

Carmen didn’t even blink. He just continued to chop up the remaining vegetables, with all of his focus on cooking. After putting the carrots into the pot, he starts to finely dice a red onion.

“Yes, cousin. I just—I just need to perfect this recipe, and then we’re good.”

Richie rolled his eyes but still scrubbed. “You’re such a jagoff.”

Carmen had a habit of trying to perfect every single recipe thrown his way. When he tasted the soup earlier, his nose scrunched up. Something about it just felt off—and it was driving him insane. It tasted too salty and too acidic. He needed to figure out how to make it better.

He turned to the boiling pot of chicken stock and gently placed the onion slices into the stew. “Yo, cousin. I got it. Go home.” He didn’t even wait for an answer as he expertly sliced into a tomato.

Richie stood up from the ground. “Sure. Just don’t make your girl wait too long.”

For the first time in their conversation, Carmen looked over at him. There was even a small smile on his lips. “Never. Not to her.”

Richie half-smiled. “Alright, you fuckin’ sap. I’m leaving.” On the inside, Richie was beaming. He couldn’t get over how happy you make Carmen—hell, how happy you make the whole kitchen. Your presence was entirely needed in a place like this.

He knocked twice on the office door and announced his leave to you. You opened the door with a wide grin and bid him goodnight. “Don’t forget to tell Eva about the tickets!” You called out as Richie walked out the door.

Richie was practically glowing at the mention of his daughter. “Thank you for finding amazing seats, by the way, sweetheart! You’re a fucking lifesaver!” With that, Richie was out of sight as the door closed on him.

Carmen’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice. His head swiveled around to see you already staring at him. Your body leaned over the office door frame—pretty manicured nails sparkling against the contrasted white of the walls.

“Hi, baby.” He says.

“Hi, Carm.” You say back, smiling.

He puts the sharp knife down and wipes his hand on the towel that was over his shoulder. You walk over to him in the kitchen, and he relishes the proximity of your presence. Your fingers trace the outline of his bicep, and a shiver crawls up his spine. Your hand settles onto his shoulder, and you give a small squeeze.

Your relationship was fairly new. It would officially be three months tomorrow, to be exact. It had gone by pretty fast if he was being honest, but it just felt so good being with you. Despite the newly founded relationship, Carmen couldn’t get over how much you truly mean to him.

You were everything from the late Sunday mornings of snuggling under the sheets to the crazy late nights of telling stories out in the front house of the restaurant. To make matters worse, you got along so well with all of the staff at The Bear. You calmed him down when everything seemed to be directly opposing him. You were always there to press a finger to his chin and a kiss on his cheek. He swore his heart palpitated against his chest every time he thought about you.

“Can I taste?”

He nodded, grabbing a small spoon and dipping it into the soup. His hand hovered under the bottom so it wouldn’t spill. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You did as he said and let your jaw slack open. He places the spoon into your mouth, and you let the delicious, salty soup slide down your throat.

You moan against the spoon. “Holy fuck, Carm.” His eyes never left your face in an attempt to understand your reaction. “That was the best thing I have ever tasted.”

He finally smiles. He felt like he was glowing. “You say that every time I ask you to try something.”

You slid your hand down his chest, feeling the imprint of the chain that rests under his uniform. “And I mean it every fucking time.” His heart buzzed against his chest. His mind felt hazy. He wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed the soft, plush flesh. His bright eyes were so intense—so full of affection—that it was starting to make you feel hot.

“You wanna taste it too?” You asked innocently.

He nodded and reached for another clean spoon. You smiled wide at the idea of him getting a sparkling clean spoon. He was quickly derailed by the way your lips crashed onto his. He let out a surprised groan, his eyes fluttering close.

You moved in sync until you pushed your tongue into his mouth and tasted the sweet essence of him. He tasted the chicken and onions from the delectable, tasty soup. It was much better than what he had tasted earlier. “Fuck—” He murmured in between the deep kisses. You bubbled out a laugh, but his hand stayed firm on your waist. He didn't want to end the way he felt when your lips graced his own.

You pull apart after the desperation of air becomes too much. You almost laugh again at the sight of his swollen lips and pretty pink cheeks. “See? Taste’s good, doesn’t it?”

A small smirk caressed his lips, but the flustered look was still there. “It tastes very good, sweet girl.”

The nickname prickled goosebumps onto your arms. He has called you that since your third date, but it never ceases to make your heart flutter. He knows it too.

You both start to gravitate toward each other once more. This time the kiss was more intense, with more teeth clashing and attempting to bruise each other’s lips.

“Carmy.” You whine. He growled into you in response and pressed another searing kiss onto your mouth. His hands grip your waist even tighter as if to pull you in even more. A moan slipped from the back of your throat.

Your hands move to the plains of his chest before pushing the two of you apart. His eyebrows furrow as you completely pull away from his embrace. Did he hurt you? It was all he could think. He didn’t want to fuck this up. No, he can’t fuck this up.

“Baby?” He whispers, sounding uncertain.

You don’t say a thing as you sink your knees to the ground, causing Carmen to gasp. His eyes were wide as his stare intensified. “F-Fuck.” His mouth bobs open and closed, trying to find some other words, but all he does is whisper your name.

Your hands moved up and down his thighs. The fabric of his chef uniform was soft against your palms. “Can I take care of you, Carmy?”

Oh, fuck. Your voice sounded so sweet—so thick and kind against his ears. He could feel his cock throb at the anticipation of your touch.

You wait for his answer, still gently rubbing his thighs back and forth. He felt like he was on fire. Nerves crash over him, though. His heart starts to speed up at the anxiety that prickles his skin. He had never done this before.

It wasn’t that the opportunity didn’t arise because it did. You asked many times if he wanted a blowjob, but all he wanted was to lick into your folds again. It was like his mind was drunk off of the sweet, tangy nectar, and he wasn't about to let go. He needed you more and more. He discovered he was much more of a giver.

Normally, he takes his sweet time with you. The first time he had ever tasted anyone was you. He always asks—that desperation in his voice. “Can I taste you? Please? F-Fuck, I see you dripping. Oh—Please?” Once he got confirmation, he would spread your legs and dip his tongue into your sweet folds. He could eat you out for hours—and he has.

He would groan against you as his tongue pushed through your folds. You tasted tangy and sour—so sweet to his taste buds, making his hands grip an indent into your flesh. The whimpers and whines that you let out are music to his ears, and he wishes the sounds were burned onto his soul. His eyes would always be latched onto yours, refusing to break the intense contact. He could fucking live in your pussy.

He couldn’t say no to you, though, could he? His cock was about ready to start leaking pre-cum. Your eyes looked so dilated and large with lust that he couldn't resist.

“F-fuck, okay. Yeah, baby. J-just—” He breaks out into a moan from your eager hands. They pushed down his pants, pooling around his ankles almost in an instant.

“Wait-wait—”

You stop immediately and let go of his thighs. Some concern is etched across your face, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I just—I just want you to know that I’ve never done this before. I don’t—” He gulps. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You almost let out a gasp. It was his first blowjob that you were going to give him, and he was worried about you. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's huffing out a breath. He just didn't want you to feel like you have to do something like this.

“Oh, Carmy, baby, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long, but you kind of get distracted.” There was that implication that he knew about so well. A blush kissed the tip of his ears.

“You sure, baby? I’m not-I’m not forcing you?”

You wanted to know who hurt this man. His anxiety about making you feel comfortable was always through the roof. You grabbed his clenched hand and opened his palm. You pressed a sweet kiss. “No, baby. You’re not forcing me.”

He visibly relaxes his shoulders. “Okay.” He breathes out. “Okay.”

You avert your attention back to his thighs—and what’s between them. He could practically see your mouth water at the bulge that protruded out from his boxers. Carmen had always been big. No one had ever told him that before, in the late kind-of drunken night stands that he had. When you first had sex at his apartment and could really take a peek at his weeping cock, your eyes widened drastically.

You knew he was big, but goddamn, he is big.

“Can I, handsome?”

You looked up at him with a cute smile. The nickname caused his heart to stutter—his cheeks deepening the shade of red. "Yeah, baby." He says. Then he whispers, “Please.”

You dragged his boxers down his thighs, and they pooled right on top of his slacks. His cock sprung up from the force—already more than half hard and aching. His eyes can’t seem to stare at anything else but you. You looked so eager—so excited—to have his dick right in front of your face. It made his stomach flip.

Your hand curls around the base, and he sucks in a breath. Your fingers just barely wrapped around the entirety of his length. Your manicured nails dug slightly into the large vein on the side—it made him choke on his own spit.

“So fuckin’ big, Carmy.” You whined. You started to pump, it was a small motion, but it still made him moan. It sounded so desperate, making your ears ring. You couldn’t wait any longer, mouth watering at the sight of pre-cum already sprouting from his tip.

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he shivered. “F-Fuck, baby—” He moans. He could feel his whole body throbbing—aching at the way you made him feel.

You swirl your tongue around the ruddy tip and continue to tease him, wrapping your lips around the sensitive area. His hand immediately goes to the back of your head, unable to help himself. “Oh, fuck, holy shit—your fucking mouth, shit—”

His knees wobbled, the other hand steadying himself on the kitchen counter. “Y’taste so good, Carmy.” Your words were slurred with lust, making his own eyes dilate. His heart palpitated at you loving this—the insecurities from earlier disappearing like water down a drain.

You start to take him even further. Your lips slowly ease down his cock, and one of your hands, still wrapped around the shaft, gave a squeeze. He choked on nothing and watched how you hollow your cheeks. You’re only halfway, but he swears he is seeing stars. “Feels so good, baby—so fucking good.” He squeezes his hand.

Pride blooms within you, as well as the praises from him making you clench around nothing. You wanted to start touching yourself, but the intense desperation to keep a hand on his cock was greater. You choked a little as his hips unconsciously gave a small thrust. It made him let out a loud moan.

He’s not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s spewing out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Fucking—shit—can you take all of it, sweet girl? Hmm?”

He licks his lips. “Can you t-take my whole cock in your mouth?” He lets out a huff of air as you moan around his cock. “Be–be my good girl, yeah?”

The only confirmation you can give is the way your eyes gloss over. Tears threaten to poke out from your eyes, and the sight makes Carmen let out a curse. You slowly, yet again, take more of him in your mouth.

“F-fuck,” he drags out. “Good girl—good fuckin’ girl. That’s it.” His knees wobble again, but he stays steady. Pure bliss sprouts in his stomach as he can feel the hot, searing pleasure from your wet mouth.

You were able to fully take him—nose brushing up against the hair on his pubic bone. He groans and whimpers at the sight of you breathing deeply with his cock shoved down your throat. “Shit–shit–fuck, baby. That’s my pretty girl. Look–look at you choking on my cock. Holy shit—” He whined out.

Warmth spreads through your chest at the adoration and lust that flows through his eyes. He can’t stop staring at the way you are just barely able to take him whole. His eyes widened even more as he watched you shove your hand down your shorts.

“Oh, baby—” he says in a coo. “Look so good like that, huh? Fuckin’ touching yourself.” You could feel the way his cock twitches in his mouth. God, where was this coming from? He thought. Something about how your eyes sprung with more tears and you desperately humping your hand for some release was making him insane.

He thrusts in and out of you, fucking up into your throat. You gagged around the girth of his cock and garbled out a cry. He moaned and whined at the feeling of your throat constricting against his cock and listened to the wet sounds of it all.

“Gonna–gonna cum, baby.” He swore that he saw your eyes sparkle—as if you wanted it all down your throat. He could feel that familiar swirl of an organism puncturing his chest. He panted as he watched the way his cock disappeared into your throat—it was a fucking sight.

His eyes suddenly turn nervous. “Can-can I cum down your throat? Please?” He sees the way you nod with your mouth full, but he sees it. He sees the raw want and needs that fills your eyes. Yeah, you wanted his cum. You needed his cum.

“Shitshitshit—” He stammers, thrusting into you two, three times. He groans out, low and guttural, as his seed spills into the back of your throat. He moans out your name in between shaken breaths from the ropes flowing through your mouth—salty and sour. He continues to pump into you, and you swallow every single drop—the added friction of your throat making him whimper.

His hips still, but his cock stays inside of your mouth, twitching in pleasure. You hum around the base and watch as his body almost writhes. He looks down at you with the most content and relaxed smile you had seen.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of him; the pop noise was small. You started to press sweet kisses to his thighs, his hand going back to rest on your head. “Feel good, bear?”

His eyes were shining. “Felt so good, baby. Y’did so well.” Now his words were slurred with lust. He just couldn’t help but let his whole world revolve around you for a moment.

You gently put on his boxers and do the same to his chef slacks. He offers you his hand, and he helps you pull yourself up. You wince at the sting in your knees, but in a way, it felt good.

He immediately takes you into an embrace, not uttering a word. You gladly let him and rest your arms over his shoulder. He grabs your waist tightly and lets his head fall on your shoulder. He breathes in deeply, letting the scent that he knows so well flow into his nose.

He was completely and utterly relaxed—it was a sensation he didn’t feel all that often. You press a gentle kiss to his hair and then to his temple. The two of you just stood like that for some time, saying nothing and enjoying one’s company.

Both of your attention to each other had ceased as the pot that was on the stove had boiled over. A lot of the soup had crashed onto the burning stove. "Fuck!"

Carmen immediately turned the stove off and let out a relieved sigh that nothing had burned. It would just be a bitch to clean up. You hand him a clean washcloth with a slightly guilty look on your face. He took the cloth from you with an annoyed (it was minorly annoyed) glare before wiping down the area.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Carm." You say, watching his arms flex. "I don't regret a thing."

He rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Fuck you." The cursing was lighthearted because he knew it too. He didn't regret anything either. In fact, he encouraged something like this again, maybe just without being in the middle of cooking.

He tried the soup again with the dirty spoon—he had a suspicion that it was going to be thrown out anyway. "Shit—Fuck—it's overcooked."

You laughed, one hand resting on your chest. He glared again. "Hey, you can't—seriously, we burned the soup. It's shit."

He still might not admit it, but you could see the way his eyes were still glossed over from the earth-shattering orgasm. He could even feel his cock jump from the way that he watched you bite your lip.

You pressed a finger onto his chin, thumb resting on his jaw. "It'll be okay, Carm." You squeezed his jaw. "You can make some more tomorrow. I’ll help."

Finally, he smiled. Yeah, tomorrow, he thought. His eyes still looked glossy, and his loopy smile was bright. "Let's clean up and go home.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #smut

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neonovember · 1 year

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dating carmen

a carmen berzatto headcanon for all of us feening for season 2

i must admit I was bored at the start of bear and than the next few minutes I was immediately hooked! carmen is such a unique character with so many layers I’d love to uncover as the seasons progress, but for now these are all coming from the depths of my mind :)

I’ve consumed about all the bear content tumblr has to offer so it’s only right I add to the shallow pool, even though this was pure self indulgence

carmy x reader inserts below!

we all know that Carmen has little to no experience with relationship, so the beginning of yours does not come without challenges. It’s hard for him, he barely registers his own emotions much anyone else’s, but in a way he has this subconscious itch in his mind to constantly know if your okay, to ask about your day, it becomes second nature with you.

Carmen refuses to call you by your actual name, often replacing it with honey, baby girl, sweetheart and with the way that accent glides over those words like honey you can’t bring yourself to protest

Carmen has never really thought of having kids, building a family or being tied to someone forever but sometimes, when he sees you fluttering around the apartment you both share, or giggling with richie's daughter he can’t help but imagine building something like that with you, some time. he doesn't doubt that if he did every have children, you would be the mother of his kids. he has visions of it, dreams where you have a gorgeous girl he would hold close or a mini mickey running around, he has to forget it though, he’s just not ready.

Carmen barely ever eats, despite being a chef, most of the things he consumes is easily accessible and in turn flavourless and unsatisfying. but after you come into his life, you practically force him to eat every time you see him, until carmen begins to eat whenever you're near. You can’t lie, it heals something in you

let’s also talk about the totally canon time where you were up late writing one night and carmen had just come back from the beef, tiptoeing through the corridor to not wake you up until he sees you sprawled out on the couch. there’s this tension that leaves his soldiers and he wastes no time taking his shoes off and sliding under the blankets, burying his tired body into yours, grease stained shirt and all but you don’t mind. you’d scratch and brush back his hair and he’d groan in bliss, closing his eyes before you would ask him that fateful question. carmen feels guilty every time he replies with the same 2 letter word, but every time you tell him that it’s part of being his. he couldn’t lie when he felt his jeans tighten at that sentence.

continuing onto that vision, despite your amateur cooking skills, you whip up something quick for Carmen that is actual sustenance and Carmen has to force his eyes open to watch you as you cook, completely and forever enraptured by you. and this man is crazy with his eye contact so imagine it with someone he loves. it’s inSANE

feeding carmen when he’s back from the beef and is too tired to lift a hand. he’s just murmuring ‘I love yous’ repeatedly between bites and you can’t help but giggle. he’s so delirious from lack of sleep all he can form are words that have been written into his tongue like muscle memory

as we see carmen, dealing with his anxiety and unresolved trauma is often terrorised by night terror and ptsd, and that kind of causes him to have this fear of you finding out somehow, whether that be by staying over or him falling asleep next to you, it all comes to a head one night when exactly that happens, and when carmen realise you haven’t stared at him in judgement or left with the door wide open it’s like everything changes. he’s finally found someone that accepts him fully, with all his jagged ends and sharp corners and he is gone at that moment. he is totally and completely head over heels in love with you.

after that revelation you are spending most nights over at his apartment, and whilst the nightmares are still there, as they might always be, there is a relief when he wakes up and feels the beat of your body rubbing circles gently across his back

the progression of your relationship with carmen happens a bit like falling asleep, slow at first and then all at once. it doesn’t take long for Carmen to confess his love to you, in that awkward yet charming way of his, and it takes even shorter after that for you to move in with him

speaking of, carmen probably fell in love with you the second he saw you, that glow that shone in a place that wasn’t the beefs kitchen, he just couldn’t quite actualise or express his feelings

he’s probably hear Tina or Ebra teasing you about a guy they had seen you with, which was no one but your cousin, and carmen would feel this burn across his chest that sinks his stomach, and then we would just know. you would be noticing the change in his demeanour at the mention of a guy connected to you, he’ll the whole kitchen did, especially when Tina would give you a look when he chastised everyone to ‘get back to work because this place isn’t gonna run itself’

I heard someone post about washing carmen’s hair and just- yes. he’s too exhausted to even eat so washing carmen’s hair would be a frequent thing. you’d always have to do it at night though because carmen would sneak a hand around your waist and hoist you up and then proceed to fuck you against the tile walls. You couldn’t be late, he couldn’t be late. For the 100th time.

carmen is touch starved, and that makes him so incredibly needy, you don’t mind however, because you're as touch starved as him. there are times where he comes home and just reaches for you, mumbling incoherent words before just grabbing your hips and making you straddle him on the living room coach. he’s so sensitive and blissed out then, even the slightest thrust of your closed core against his tight jeans leaves him whimpering

oh yeah carmen whimpers, I mean are you kidding? Look at that man

carmen, despite not having many relationships under his belt, is ridiculously, I mean concerningly good at eating your pussy. this man will spend hours, edging you, nibbling on your inner thighs, licking and sucking before thirsting a finger and tongue into you with no warning. he knows every single inch of your body, he’s got it memorised, he dreams about it in the office, on his smoke breaks, in the kitchen, hell especially in the kitchen. getting hard all over again when he remembers the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and how you fell apart with his name on yours.

you think carmen is needy during sex? he’s a whole other thing after, this man will keep his cock buried in you long after your highs, until it gets soft and uncomfortable, and even then he needs you close to him, holding you tight against his chest or having you rest your cheek on his collarbone

bear hugs. lots and lots of bear guys. there's something about carmen’s arms that just make you feel so soft and warm wrapped up in them

carmen really likes how you smell, its almost primal (ehm anthtony bridgerton) he loves washing his body with you scented body wash, even if cousin would tease the fuck out of him for smelling like strawberries, carmen just shakes his head and smiles at the reminder that he is completely and utterly yours.

carmen isn't that rambunctious with his displays of affection, it's subtle, like making you coffee before he leaves or getting down to tie your shoes for you, but it's genuine. it's unique to him, it’s carmen. he'd probably design a dish based on you without realising how goddamn romantic that is. i imagine him calling you to the kitchen and getting you to try something, little scribbled notes written on paper and a little notebook with written and rewritten recipes and you'd ask what it is and he'd reply with "you" and then idk he’d maybe ask you to marry him

carmy would be an absolutely emotional mess on your wedding day, it's partly because he didn't think he'd have a life that included one, and partly because couldn't wrap his head around you actually saying yes. He’s crying when you both wake up on that morning, hes crying when you both sneak away to see each other before the altar, he's crying when he sees you walking down, you've got a box of tissues attached to your dress for him

carmen is a perfectionist, he has this insatiable need to make things beyond perfect, his work is his passion and that need seeps into most of life. however, a lot of the times things in your relationship don’t go right, and it’s mostly why he has never really given his all to one, he’s scared he’ll fuck it up and once that happens you cant start again, you can’t redo the recipe with a new batch. But carmen, slowly, very slowly, learns that things don't have to be perfect, they just have to be real.

You're carmen's unofficial official taste tester. One snowed in night, you and carm just stayed up all night, designing and tweaking recipes and new dishes for the bear, with carm mostly doing the designing and you being his very scrutinising critic

carmy loved whatever you called him, i think he kind of froze the first time you called his name, but he especially loves it when you call him by his full name. everyone else kinda has the same nickname for him but he loves that you call him by something only you do, because he will always call for you

And oh my god if you call him ‘husband’ after you get married? It does something unholy to him

carmen is constantly searching for you, he gets anxious when you aren't around or when your late, you are his best friend beyond his lover and the only person he can truly feel at ease with, the crew are his family as they are yours but there is so much that he bottles that he can only express to you during those nights under light of the moon and sweat covered sheets.

you take everything carmen gives, and there is so much that he does, but it was not always that easy, loving carmen was hard, it was frustrating and overwhelming and carmen is forever trying to give you the love he could not those first few months where he closed himself off to you

sometimes, your heart aches so much with the love you have for carmen, and carmen sometimes feels like he's wading through a current when he thinks of you, he just wants to give into the rush of love and adoration that overwhelms him. its personified in every vessel of his life, he's got polaroids of you stuck to his car mirror, in his wallet, he's got your necklace around his neck and drinks from your mug, you ruined him for anyone else, and he can't imagine his life without you, your scent, your hair products and bring pink toothbrush all over it.

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donatellawritings · 4 months

Text

cherry - subtle body - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap

song: baby boy by childish gambino

4:15AM. Richie was the first to wake up, following the fast-paced events that had taken place the night prior - and he would be lying, if he said that he didn’t love it. The shrill of his alarm was enough to cause you to stir, but not enough to wake you as he carefully reached over you, silencing the alarm before taking a moment to soak it all in, to soak you all in. He gently pulled his arm out from under you, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair, before standing from the bed. Richie didn’t want to leave you, but he had to - he’d promised his daughter, the absolute apple of his eye, that he would take her to school, before he had to leave for work.

Running his calloused hand over his face with a huff, Richie collected his slacks from the floor, sliding them up his legs, without buttoning them. Picking up his dress-shirt that laid beside your vanity, Richie looked over to you, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest as you peacefully slept. It took everything in Richie to not crawl back into your bed and hold you in his arms, yet he remained resilient as he buttoned the cuffs of the shirt, proceeding to button up the shirt.

Smoothing a hand down against his short hair, Richie scanned the environment of your room, should he write you a note? Deciding against it, Richie walked towards the bed, leaning down to kiss the side of your head, before grabbing his phone.

Now making his way to your bathroom, Richie opened the cabinet underneath the sink, searching for a spare toothbrush, toothpaste, anything he could use to freshen his breath. Coming up unsuccessful, Richie pulled at the mirror that was mounted on your wall, the prescribed-pill bottle that sat on one of the shelves catching his eye. Sure, he was prescribed medication for the demons that dwelled in his mind, but knowing that they plagued your mind too caused an ache in his chest. Shaking away the thoughts, Richie’s eyes fell on the travel-sized bottle of mouth wash that sat on the center shelf.

Thank fuckin’ god.

Using over half of the bottle, Richie poured the blue liquid into his mouth, throwing his head back with a gargle, before spitting into the sink, briefly allowing a quick stream of water to wash away the remaining mouthwash that lingered against the porcelain bowl of the sink. Closing the mirror, Richie took a quick glance over of himself.

Craning his neck to the side, Richie exhaled through his nose as he looked at the three scratches that tainted his skin, courtesy of your nails, “fuck,” he groaned, running his hand over the wounds before exiting the bathroom.

Making his way to the living room, Richie snatched his leather jacket off of the arm of your sofa, sliding his arms through in a fluid motion, before he exited your apartment, making sure to shut your front door softly, not wanting to wake you.

Once in the hallway, Richie unlocked his phone, typing a quick text message to you as he awaited the elevator.

taking the kid 2 school. call me when ur awake

dinner on me tonight

Richie loved spending time with his little girl, the mere two hours they’d spend together whenever he’d take her to school, never truly fulfilling him. It always seemed as though he’d have little Eva singing her heart out one minute, then, pulling up alone to the back parking lot of The Bear. It was now 7:32AM as Richie’s phone rang.

The sight of your name flashing across his phone screen caused Richie to clear his throat, before accepting the call and bringing the phone to his ear, “Hi, sweetheart,” he speaks, a hint of excitement now apparent in his usually stoic voice.

You turnover, the sound of your shuffling now heard over the other side of the phone, “Hi,” you rasped, your voice laced with sleep, “I miss you,” you added.

Fuck, Richie leaned his head back against the headrest of his driver’s seat as his eyes closed for a second, he was so fucking into you, it hurt.

“I know, pretty girl, I, uh,” he forced out a breathy chuckle, “I miss you too.”

“You owe me dinner,”you teased playfully, your laughing echoing through the phone, “and a proper sleepover.”

Richie rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, a goofy grin playing on his lips, “I owe you a new mouthwash too,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you questioned, “then I’ll have to get an extra toothbrush for when you stay the night,” you commented, more so to yourself than to Richie.

Richie stilled, a silence falling over his car as he took a breath. You made him nervous - I mean, fuck, it usually took months, for some even years, to witness Richie’s softer side, yet here you were, knowing him for not even a fraction of that, making him blush and plan cutesy sleepover dates. Shit, the last time Richie had his own toothbrush for overnight stays was at his ex-wife’s house.

Richie remained caught up in his trailing thoughts, until your voice cut in, “You still there?” You asked, your voice now pitched higher with worry.

“Shit, sorry baby, uh yeah,” Richie blinked, “yeah, we should definitely have an extra toothbrush - I’ll have to get you one at my place,” he breathed out.

Noticing your silence, Richie decided to take hold of the conversation, “Listen, m’gonna come get you around six? I got us a table at this fuckin’ place downtown, it’s uh, real fancy.”

The sound of the faucet running can be heard on your end, followed by soft brushing, “Y’brushing your teeth over there?” Richie asked.

“Yes, I have class at eleven,” you answered, your words muffled from the toothbrush that sat between your teeth.

“Shit, which class is that?” Richie asked.

Water can be heard hitting the sink, “Film, thankfully,” you sighed, “it’s my favorite.”

Richie knew you were a film major, you wanted to write scripts. If you weren’t on the phone with him, or doing assignments, you were usually studying watching a movie. You’d watched movies intently, paying attention to every minor detail, always anxious to see if it would be referenced in the future.

It made Richie proud, knowing that his girl was going for her education, and was excited to use it. You’d be graduating from college in a few months, Richie grew excited at the thought of you donning your degree, looking beautiful as ever in a cap and gown.

“I know, baby,” he muttered, “you’re so fuckin’ smart.”

“Thank you, Richie,” you blushed, “um, I really enjoyed last night, by the way,” you added, the screech of the faucet stopping filling Richie’s ears.

The scratches on Richie’s neck grew warm, a smirk tugging at his lips as he recalled the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, “So did I- I got the scratches on my neck to prove it,” he teased, chuckling as you gasped.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-” you began to panic.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he spoke, “it’ll give the guys something to talk about at work.”

Richie was being a cocky fuck. He loved that he could indirectly show you off with the scratches on his neck, wanting to hold off on introducing you to his family coworkers, until things were steady between you two.

“Alright, well I gotta start heading in, okay?” He sighed.

“Okay, have a good day at work, Richie,” you beamed.

“Thank you, sweetheart - I’ll see you at six.”

“See you at six.”

Richie made his way through the main dining room and kitchen, mentally taking note of any upstanding flaws that needed to be corrected prior to opening. This usually took him anywhere around one to two hours, depending on how meticulous he’d decided he needed to be that day.

“Richie, good morning, papa!” Tina greeted, her signature wide grin on full display as she approached Richie.

“What’s goin’ on, T?” He responded, pulling the woman in for a kiss to her cheek.

Tina cocked her head to the side, “Woah, what the fuck happened to you,” she questioned, reached her hand towards the scratches that peeked out from beneath the collar of Richie’s dress-shirt.

Richie smiled, softly pulling away from Tina, “S’nothing, uh, how was the drive here this morning,” he attempted to deflect, refusing to make eye contact with the woman in front of him.

Tina scoffed, “I’ll tell you all about my drive in, when you tell me about those marks on your neck.”

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets, with a huff. Richie considered Tina to be a confidant of his, the older woman being one of the closes people to him, due to their years of friendship and history.

So, naturally, he caved, “Just a girl I’ve been seeing recently, y’know?”

Tina nodded, her eyebrows raised, “Ah, and what is this “girl” like?”

“She’s beautiful, I mean, T, she’s a fuckin’ knockout,” Richie rambled, “she’s Puerto Rican-”

Tina gasped, nudging Richie’s arm, “A latina? Look at you, Richie.”

“Yeah, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, she’s good, y’know?” Richie praised, shyly bringing his gaze to Tina as she cradled the side of his face.

“I’m happy for you.”

The hours of the day came and went as Richie found himself leaned against the hood of his car as he waited for you to come downstairs. He was thankful to have gotten out of work early enough to make a quick pit stop at his apartment to shower and brush his teeth, not wanting to take you out without being the most pristine and prepared version of himself. He’d even made sure to bring a small bag of clothes and toiletries in the backseat of his car as a ‘just in-case’.

There was a part of Richie that ached to know how you did, to know how you’d manage to seem as though you had it all together, despite being in the same boat as him. Richie wouldn’t be the one to bring up your inner workings, he’d figured that hed let you come to him, that is, if you ever wanted to even tell him about your internal battles.

The hum of his phone vibrating in his pocket jolted Richie out of his thoughts, “shit,” he muttered.

sorry for taking so long … wanna come up?

Richie nodded to himself, a sigh leaving himelf as he opened the door to the backseat of his car, grabbing ahold of the drawstring bag that sat neatly on the seat. Closing the car door with a huff, Richie add his way into your apartment building, his stomach churning with concern - something was off with you.

You’d been beaming about this date, since Richie first brought it up. Shit, it had been the last thing you’d spoken about, before you fell asleep on his chest last night. I mean, yeah, Richie shared the same sentiment, he’d felt like a teenager going on his first date, again, but it brought a warmth to his chest knowing and seeing first-hand how excited you were.

Now in the main lobby of the building, Richie impatiently slapped the elevator button, blankly staring at the elevator door that had yet to open.

Richie got lost in his own mind as he wracked through what changed within you. Was the age-difference too much for you? Were you having cold feet? Were you going to end things? Did you not want to be seen with him? Fuck, it had only been about two minutes since Richie read your text and he was already driving himself insane with assumptions and differing conclusions. So much so, that Richie didn’t even realize that he’d subconsciously already made his way into the elevator and to the fourth floor.

Richie rushed to your door, softly knocking his knuckles against the heavy door, “S’me, sweetheart!” He called out sweetly.

You were quick to open the door, Richie’s heart sinking to his ankles as you answered the door with tear-soaked eyes, “hi Richie,” you squeaked, your voice broken.

“Hey, hey -what’s going on?” He asked, following you inside your apartment.

You were dressed for tonight’s occasion: a skintight black dress that barely reached your mid-thigh, black pantyhose concealing the skin of your legs. Your hair was curled, flowing down your back loosely as you stood barefoot, turning to face Richie.

You let out a shaky breath of frustration as you walked into Richie’s chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Richie knew that he sucked when it came to situations like this. You see, he’d become accustomed to letting his frustrations out with a string of profanities, and a cigarette, and maybe even a fistfight. So, he settled with doing the one thing that he knew he couldn’t manage to fuck up: hold you in his arms and simply listen to what you had to say.

You tried to speak, your words jumbled as you spoke directly into Richie’s chest. Slightly leaning away from you, Richie craned his neck down to get a good look at you, “I can’t hear you when you’re talking straight into me, baby.”

You pulled yourself out of Richie’s arms with a roll of your eyes, you hated letting your guard down, “I just don’t know what I am fucking doing, I mean,” you laughed, “you are a fucking father, y-you were married, and me? I have no idea what the fuck I am doing.”

Richie remained silent, he could tell that this was something that weighed heavy on your conscience. So, he decided to take it all in, only jump in when he felt he had to.

And you continued.

“I’m twenty-three years old, Richie, a-and what if this is fun for you in the beginning, but then you realize that you should be with someone who has it together?” You questioned aloud.

Richie remained silent.

And you continued.

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t even go one day without taking these fucking pills, isn’t that so fucked?” You shake your head with a smile of disbelief.

Richie remained silent - this was killing him.

And so, you continued.

“I just- you should go home, okay? Y-you can go home and forget about me, forget about this, and you can be with someone who can give you what you need-”

Richie could no longer remain silent, so he laughed.

“You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” he spat with a shrug of his shoulders.

Richie could feel the frustration quickly boiling into anger, a frustrated anger that burned in his chest. He’d thought he made it clear just how much he fuckin’ liked you, yet here he was, feeling as though he was being backed into a corner - forced to defend himself.

”Let me just tell you somethin’, sweetheart,” he began, “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be fuckin’ standing here, listening to you say shit that makes no fuckin’ sense.”

The blue-eyed man decided that he wasn’t done, “You’re not the only fuckin’ person going through shit, I just don’t take the fuckin’ easy way out and run away when shit gets scary, but hey, maybe you’ll learn that when you grow up.”

You froze in place, letting out a scoff.

In the deep part of Richie’s psyche, he knew that he shouldn’t have brought up your age against you, but fuck, everything you were saying was so far from the truth. He was hurt that you’d questioned his motives, so he resorted to his cutting words to try and get through to you.

Wordlessly, you walked away from Richie, in the direction of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” Richie cursed himself as he watched you disappear into the hallway.

You left your bedroom door open, grabbing the oversized graphic tee that rested on your vanity, before slipping it over the tight dress that uncomfortably clung to your body, tugging it down your legs by the hem. Kicking the dress to the side, you took hold of the headphones that laid on your bed, placing them on your head, potentially blocking out the noise of Richie leaving your apartment.

But, he never left.

In fact, Richie locked the front door of your apartment, making sure to turn off the lights in your living room, before he made his way towards your bedroom, drawstring bag in hand. Fuck the reservation, fuck the fancy outfits, all Richie could focus on was the fact that he’d hurt his girl.

Richie found you on your bed, seated with your legs crossed, larger headphones on your head as you forced yourself to keep your eyes trained forward.

Standing beside your bed, Richie dropped his bag onto the floor as he gently reached for your headphones, carefully removing them from your head, “Can y’look at me, pretty girl?” He questioned softly, taking a seat at the edge of your bed, his hands folded over his lap.

Your eyes met his, god, he absolutely hated seeing you cry, let alone bring the reason for your tears.

“C’mere,” he beckoned.

You were hesitant, but nevertheless, you had somehow found yourself straddling Richie’s hips, there was no sexual urges behind your decision and Richie loved it. You had every right to be upset with him, yet you sat on him, solely for the sake of needing to be as close to him as possible.

Richie’s hand softly held your face, “Didn’t want to make you cry, baby, I just-” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “I just - you’ve got this shit all wrong.”

You nodded, wanting him to explain - you needed the reassurance.

Richie’s lips softly pecked yours, before he continued, “I don’t give a fuck if you got your shit together or not - I mean, fuck, baby, I don’t even have my shit in order,” he chuckled.

“But what if you get bored of me?” You mumbled, earning an exaggerated eye roll, coupled with an obnoxious scoff from Richie.

“Not gonna happen, I’d have to be the world’s biggest jagoff if that ever happened,” He dismissed politely, pulling one of your hands that laid interlocked with the other, replacing that hand with his own.

“You don’t think I’m too young? You said that I have to grow u-”

“I was being a fuckin’ asshole, alright?” Richie countered, “Yeah, you’re younger, a lot younger, but you are doing good for yourself, yeah? You’re finishing college, I didn’t even make it in to fuckin’ college.”

Richie’s hands softly grab your face as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’not that great at this, sweetheart, but I want to try, for you,” he coaxed.

“I’m just scared, Richie.” you confessed.

“I’m scared too, just let me- let me take care of you,okay? I promise, m’not going to hurt you, just give me a chance, okay?”

You nodded, “okay.”

The two of you were terrified. This was uncharted territory for the both of you - but you both wanted this to work, you both needed it to work. So, you both sat, Richie holding you closely to his chest as you steadied your breathing to match his.

“I owe you a dinner,” you whispered.

Richie exhaled a short laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He was falling for you, fast, and what scared him the most was knowing that he’d go to pretty deep lengths, just to make sure that you always knew that.

and that’s it for part 4 of cherry, so sorry if this is too long, I really just wanted a part that focus on Richie’s inner-workings and his thoughts, I hope you all enjoyed!

#richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #richie jerimovich fanfic #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich smut #the bear fic #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto

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ariisheresstuff · 7 months

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Sleepless Nights

Pairings: Dad!Carmy x Mom!Reader

Summary: The few days with a two week old baby was stressful, you were going through postpartum depression and it’s killing you. Carmy wakes up to the sounds of whimpers and cries from Kennedy, only to find you crying while comforting her.

Genre: Comfort, slight angst

Warnings: Postpartum Depression, crying, baby crying, stressed reader

MasterList

A/N: My requests are open, have a good day! <3

It was only 1:20 AM and Carmen groaned to the sound of your newborn daughter crying, Carmen turned to your side of the bed only to find you standing next to Kennedy’s crib gently bouncing the small infant. Carmen rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stood up and walked over to you. He yawned as he rubbed a hand on your lower back, he paused his movements only to feel your body shaking. He gently turned your shoulder only to frown. You were crying.

“Hey, baby, what’s the matter?” Carmy softly whispered to you, he tried cupping your face but you only shook your head looking down at Kennedy to hide your tears.

“I-it’s nothing Carm, g-go back to bed.” You said through hiccups, you softly shushed Kennedy’s cries but only for them to get louder. You were two seconds away from screaming.

“Here, gimme Kennedy baby. Go sit for me.” Carmen quickly took Kennedy out of your arms as he comforted the small child with soft hums and kisses. You sat on the bed hiding your face as you let the tears silently fall. Carmen walked around with the baby to get her fall back asleep.

“There ya go Kenzie, giving mommy such a hard time hm? I know it’s so hard living in a new world, but you gotta be nice to mommy. She’s done so much for you hm?” He said quietly as the small girl started to hiccup dozing back into sleep. Carmen smiled softly before pecking her head before walking over to her crib and placing her slowly down before rocking the crib slowly. After a few minutes he sighed before looking at you, he felt his heart shatter. He walked over to you as he ran his hands down your back in a comforting matter, that only made you sob more.

“Shh, baby. I know, it’s okay. Here, C’mere. Let’s go to the living room okay?” You looked up at him with a cloudy vision and a trembling lib before nodding. Carmen helped you up before taking your hand as he lead you to the quiet living room. He sat you down next to him as he wrapped his arms around you. You both stood there for a few minutes in silence only your sniffled and small whimpers being heard.

“You’re not alone in this, y’know that babe?” He said softly making you wrap your arms around his torso and hugging him tightly. Carmen didn’t hesitate to hug you back. He felt your body shake again.

“I-I’m sorry. I-It’s just too m-much for me, I-i don’t know what t-to do anymore.” You said through sobs, Carmen frowned he cupped your face out of his chest to make you look at him. He wiped away your tears with his thumb before giving you a stern look.

“Look at me Y/N.”

You hesitated before softly opening your red eyes with your eyebrows furrowed. Your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from crying. Carmen pulled your face closer to his as he laid a loving kiss on your lips, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment forgetting about everything. Carmy pulled away as he rested his forehead on yours for a moment before pulling away to look at you.

“Don’t ever say sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re going through a lot baby. A first born isn’t easy, I’ve seen Sugar and Richie deal with it. It’s okay to feel like this Y/N. Don’t think you’re alone on this, I’m here with you, that’s what husbands are for. I love you with all my heart baby, and it kills me to see you go through this stage. But I’m here for you and Kennedy. Please, don’t feel afraid about opening up to me about this.”

More tears fell only for Carmen to quickly wipe them away and bring you head to rest on his shoulder as he hugged you like you would disappear. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you let your emotions fall out.

“Let it out baby, it’s okay.” He whispered as he rubbed your back while kissing your head.

“I-I love you Carmy.” You said into his neck making Carmen smile, you pulled away to face him before giving him another kiss making you both sigh lovingly. You both stayed in each others arms for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence in each others embrace.

“You ready to go back to bed baby?” Carmen said softly into your shoulder, you sniffled before softly nodding. Carmy grunted as he got off the couch and reaching down with his hand gesturing for you to grab it. You grabbed his large hand as he lead you to the bedroom where Kennedy was sleeping. You two quietly entered the room and walked over to her crib on the side of the bed. You both looked down at the sleeping girl, you smiled as you ran a finger on her chubby cheek. You sighed as Carmen kissed the side of your head, you yawned quietly.

“Get some sleep baby, I’ll watch over her.” Carmen whispered making you frown at him.

“But, you have to get up in a few hours for work Bear. It’s fine I’ll stay-

“No babe, you need more sleep than I do. I’m fine baby, really, just please relax. You deserve it. I promise I got it, okay?” He cupped your face as he pecked your forehead clearly telling you to sleep. You sighed before nodding and leaning up to peck his nose. You grabbed his hand on your cheek and placing a kiss on his open palm.

“Thank you Carmy. I love you.” You said with a smile making Carmy smile back.

“And I love you more Y/N, always.” He brought you closer for one more kiss for the night before letting you go to bed.

He sighed as he felt a wave of proudness wash over him, he felt proud of taking care of you. His wife, who needed the comfort. Knowing he’ll always be there for his wife~

Tag-List: @otomefan @chunnies @slasherstories123 @avengersfan25 @th3h0nkz

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freak-accident419 · 3 months

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You Were Everything

Derek Danforth x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, mentions of accidental pregnancy, reader is divorced from Derek, ‘P/n’ = parent name (what your child would call you, whether it be mommy/daddy/etc)

(A/n: I’ve gotta stop being inspired by Richie Jerimovich… reader is afab yet implied/intended to be genderqueer—either nonbinary, genderfluid, transman, transmasc, etc. but it can also apply to cis fem readers. Anyone with a uterus. I know this arrangement isn’t accurate—the custody thing—but it makes things more dramatic, you know?)

“Y/n, please.” You heard your ex-husband plead over the phone.

“Derek, we’ve already talked about this countless times. I’m not going to change my mind,” you sigh wearily.

Things with Derek were… complicated, to say the very least. You had once been married to him a few years ago, and everything was going so well. That is, until he got you pregnant.

It was a complete accident. You two always thought you were being safe. You both never planned on pregnancy, let alone even talked about the possibility of having a child. And with your conditions, you weren’t even sure you would be willing to raise it, to carry it all those nine months. But you went through with it anyway.

When Derek found out, he was utterly terrified. He never thought of himself being a father, he never thought he’d ever be the father of your kid, and he especially never thought you would even have a kid of your own. And so, out of sole fear and impulse, he just left one night. Gave you space, you supposed. But things ultimately just ended up in a bitter divorce. Derek was barely there for you.

Which was why you were so insistent on not letting him see your daughter. Jessica or Jess, she was named after Derek’s mother. She was four-years-old now, only communicating with her father on the phone, consoled by the lie you told her that he lived across the globe. During your pregnancy, he still paid for the medical bills, child support, formula, et cetera, yet he was separated from you. Therefore, you simply denied him visitation for your daughter, court-ordered, because you believed he didn’t deserve to see her. He left you alone for all those months, knowing how drastic of a concept pregnancy was to you. You never planned to let him see her.

“Y/n, please. Just for a day. Or even—even just an hour! Let me see my little girl. Please,” he begged with hopeless desperation. It was insulting to you, the fact that he finally wanted to be part of you and your daughter’s life.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you assert forcefully. “You left us. You left her and you left me.” You two always had this same conversation with the same statements and reasons. He had always brought up the possibility of seeing his daughter. This same conversation happened nearly almost every month.

“C’mon. She—she deserves to have a dad present in her life. I can’t just—just call her up all the time while she just believes I’m across the sea and unable to see her!” He urged imperatively to his ex-spouse.

“You’re right. She does deserve to have a dad. A present dad, a good dad,” you utter pressingly. “But that’s just not you.”

Derek pinched his nose bridge in frustration and sighed. He felt terrible. He felt so regretful and so horrible and undeserving of seeing his daughter in person. But he was also selfish—he needed to see her. Derek believed that he learned from his mistakes. Ultimately, he didn’t want to be a father in the beginning because he knew he was unfit. That is, until recently, when he shut down UDG and Nine Star.

“I know I messed up. I know—I know things ended horribly and—and you will never forgive me, but… but I just wanna see Jessica. Not even for an hour? Even five minutes? Five minutes, Y/n, come on, five minutes. Let me have this,” he implored. A part of you felt bad. After all, deep down you still loved him. But you kept remembering every grueling and difficult second while you were pregnant and alone.

“Derek, we’ve already had this conversation. You can continue to call her just like it has been for the past four years. But that’s it. You—” you paused in your tracks as you looked at the kitchen table, the plastic cup of milk tipped over, the drink spreading across the surface. You rushed to get napkins and you soothe your daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just spilt milk. Easy to clean. You’re okay.” You wiped the milk with the napkins after setting the cup back up. She was a sensitive child, so she was definitely upset about the spilled drink, yet you were able to distract her from the accident. “There. See? All clean. Did you eat your vegetables? Oh my, you did! All of them? Good girl!”

Your sweet, higher pitched voice transmitted to the other side of the phone, Derek hearing you speak to your daughter. His heart nearly stopped as he began to hear the muffled babbles of the toddler in the background of the call. His voice softened immediately, and he couldn’t think about anything but the presence of his daughter.

“She… She’s been eating her vegetables?” He asks softly in awe.

You bring the phone back to your ear. “Yeah,” you answer simply, looking down at her as she continued to eat her lunch.

Derek felt a rush of pride. Even though it was something as small as finishing vegetables, he was extremely proud of her. He always was.

“Is she—is she there?” He inquired breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Derek—”

“Please.”

You sigh, pausing. You only let him speak to her for a certain amount of hours and at a specific time of the day, but… you figured there was no harm in letting him speak to her right now. “Fine,” you yield.

After handing the phone to your daughter and telling her who it was, you caught the sudden change of her expression—she nearly beamed.

“Hi, daddy!”

Derek felt his heart explode and his whole world practically stopped at the moment he heard his child’s voice again. Sure, he gets to call her every day, but he could never get used to it, to the feeling, to her voice. The way she called him her father with enthusiasm and exhilaration, as if he was worth all the excitement. Then his lips curled into a soft smile once he fully processed the moment. “Hey… hey, baby, how are you?”

“I’m good!” She chirped sweetly. “Guess what?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He replies excitedly.

“I can do a cartwheel now!” She exclaimed.

“Oh really?” He chuckles softly.

“Yeah! My friend Emmy, who-who’s in gymnastics, she showed me how!” Derek smiles as he continued to hear the purity and cheerfulness of his own daughter’s voice. His heart melted every time he heard her, every mispronunciation, every babble.

“That’s amazing, honey!” He praised with admiration.

Her happiness was overwhelming. While he was proud of her—and he was—he couldn’t help but feel miserable. He couldn’t be there to see it. To see his daughter, unlike other kids, finish all her vegetables without any problems. To see her do a cartwheel for the very first time.

“I wish you could see it, daddy! It’s so cool!”

“I bet it is, Jess,” he replies joyfully, ensuring that there were no hints of anguish in his tone. “I wish I could see it too.”

It hurt him a lot, if he had to be honest—not being able to see his daughter and her achievements and growth in person. It was slowly, deliberately killing him.

“And-and yesterday, p/n’s friend Josh took us to the aquarium!” she giggled.

Oh, right. Your new boyfriend. Josh.

Josh, the one who always took you out to dinner whenever he could. The one who treated your daughter with ice cream regularly.

Josh, the one with a clean background and normal, humble life.

Josh, the one who Jess mentioned on several occasions, especially whenever she brought up your happiness.

Derek felt his mouth become dry, obligated to lick his lips. He gulped, attempting to disregard the whole painful ‘Josh’ thing with a relevant question. “Yeah? What kinds of animals did you see there?” He asked curiously.

“There were a lot of fishes, and penguins, and seahorses, and turtles, and octopuses! But my favorite were the seals,” she babbles gleefully, completely ignorant of the entire situation.

“That sounds so fun, baby,” he replied with a wide smile. “Why are seals your favorite?”

“I don’t know. They’re just really cute,” she shrugs with an innocent giggle. “P/n said that they remind them of you, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your p/n said that?”

“Mhm!”

“Me? Seals?”

“Yeah. They said it was because you had big puppy eyes,” she giggles.

Derek laughs. It felt nice to hear that you still spoke of him to your daughter, let alone fondly. And it was also very typical of you to say; hearing that was inexplicably nostalgic. It warmed his heart. “Can’t argue with that.”

A pondering thought lingered in his mind as he thought about you, and he felt it eating at him.

“Hey, baby, can I ask you something?” He implores gently.

“Okay!” she replies simply.

“Is… Is your P/n happy?” Derek felt nervous as he asked this question.

“Yeah!” she babbles cheerfully. “They’re always happy!”

There was a wave of a warm, bittersweet feeling in his chest as he smiled softly to himself. But also relief. He still cared about you, so, so much. Derek regrets leaving you that day. He wants to come back for Jess, of course. But he also wants to come back to you.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, until suddenly—

“Oh. P/n wants to be back on the phone.”

Derek’s smile falters immediately. He knew you never really approved of any interaction between him and your daughter, so he assumed you wanted to cut the call short. But in the end, nothing would be enough for him. Not a five minute or five hour call. He would sacrifice anything to see her. But he knew that as long as you never forgive him, it’ll never happen. “O-okay, baby. I love you, okay? Give—give the phone back to your p/n, please.”

“Okay! I love you! Bye daddy!”

He sighs as he heard the phone being passed to you, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak to you once again. It was kind of draining, mostly because he was intimidated by you. Speaking to you was just a reminder of his failure, of how he failed you.

“Hey,” you sigh.

“Hey…”

There was a slight pause until Derek spoke up.

“So… seals remind you of me, huh?”

You groan playfully and place a hand on your forehead. “She told you that?”

“Mhm. I mean—personally, I don’t get why you’ve always talked out my eyes being ‘big and brown,’ like every time, you always said that same thing—”

“Because they are,” you chuckle under your breath. Little did he know, and little did Jess know, that she had his eyes. You had mixed feelings about Derek indefinitely, especially because of the past. But there was something so invigorating about talking about your daughter with him. “Did she tell you about the cartwheel?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin on his face. Knowing him for a long time, you could imagine how his face looked just by the sound of his voice. “I’m so proud of her.”

“You know, um… she’s very invested in math right now,” you bring up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, there was this, uh, cartoon… on the TV showing simple math problems and uh… she just sorta fell in love with it. She wanted me to teach her more,” you reiterate. “Derek, she’s four.”

Derek listened in awe, becoming more and more amazed by his daughter.

“Really? She wanted to learn math?”

“Yeah,” you were practically beaming. “She is so smart, Derek,” you affirm, “Our—our daughter, she is so smart.”

”Y-yeah. She—she really is,” he replied briefly with mere astonishment.

That was the first time that you referred to your daughter as his. ‘Our,’ echoed in his mind. ‘Our daughter.’ He wasn’t sure that you even caught that, that it was intentional, because you said it so naturally and quick, but… he couldn’t help but feel good about himself—about everything—after that.

There was a short pause before you cleared your throat. “Hey, um… I thought about it a lot and, uh… I have this business thing across the country… and, um… I was planning on having my mom watch her or a sitter, but, uh…”

You pause, afraid to even make the proposal.

“I wanted you to watch her. On that weekend. You can, uh… finally meet her, spend time with her, and…”

Derek was in complete shock. His eyes were wide, he felt his entire body freeze, it was like he couldn’t move.

“When is this?” He uttered quietly in disbelief.

“In two weeks,” you answer, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course, I…” Derek was incredibly astonished. Was this even real? You were finally going to let him see his daughter? “Of course. I’ll—I’ll be there.” He was so prepared to cancel every single plan on that weekend, clearing up his schedule just for Jess.

“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much, I…” He was still in utter shock. It was unexpected after all, just a few minutes ago you had denied him again. But while your daughter was calling him, you got an email from your work, reminding you about the business trip. You weren’t entirely sure why you changed your mind like this. You just hoped that you wouldn’t regret it.

“Just… please don’t mess it up,” you sigh exasperatedly.

“I—I won’t,” he says confidently. Derek felt his hands shake ever so slightly, eyes watering from the realization he had—he was going to see his kid. For the first time, he was going to see his child.

“Okay.”

Derek felt emotional. He was actually going to see his kid. He was actually going to watch her cartwheel, he was actually going to hold her. He could take her out for ice cream like… how Josh had.

Derek gulped as he pondered.

“Y/n?” He mumbles silently.

You hum in response.

“I, uh… How are—How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, Derek,” you reply briefly.

You said his name softly this time, however—not harshly like before. It tugged on his weak heartstrings as if they were useless, frayed string.

And then there was an awful, deafening pause.

“I, uh… I still really love you, Y/n.”

You felt your heart sink before it shattered completely. Your vision began to become blurry with your now glassy eyes. It hurt. This all hurt.

Derek wouldn’t know much this affected you, however. He could only hear your voice or your silence. He’d never know how awful you felt just from hearing that, like how awful he felt from blurting it out. He believed you completely moved on from him. But he adored you, to say the very least, hopelessly. It was simply a cry for a second chance.

There was a terrible, piercing silence. Were you still there, behind the phone?

“Y/n…?”

You were speechless for too long as his words lingered horribly in your mind.

Then finally…

“I know,” he heard you reply softly, under your trembled breath.

“I—I still care about you,” you add. Wrong. You still love him too. But he would never know that. He would be foolish to assume without hearing the three words leave your own lips. And you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him that you still loved him, because he would just hold on and hope longer. So instead, you express your gratitude for him. “Um… Thank you for… for all the good times… for being in my life…

You were a wonderful experience.”

#derek danforth #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth angst #angst #the beekeeper #the beekeeper fanfic #the beekeeper movie #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 months

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nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - bonus post-epilogue chapter

Note: I randomly wanted to write a wedding, but I don't actually include the ceremony, so this is more like a "pre-wedding/post-wedding" story if we're being honest ! Also it takes place about 2 years after the epilogue :)

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! (Explicit Language/Sexual Content).

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sydney held the wooden spoon toward you and the scent of the honey and ginger glaze tickled your nostrils. Earlier in the afternoon, she rolled the sleeves of her dark green sweater to her elbows and the beaded bracelet (a gift from Richie’s daughter, Eva) slid partway down her wrist.

“Alright, it’s your entree. You get to try it first.”

“I thought that was the chef’s honor?”

“Yeah, well, you’re the bride so…” she trailed off, shrugging. “I think that superimposes chef’s honor.”

You smiled and raised both eyebrows at Syd. She didn’t have to help, especially considering how busy The Bear is nowadays, but she offered and you gratefully accepted. Wedding planning – as it turned out – was a stressful affair. You and Carmy had your location set, but the guest list, wedding registry, and menu were woefully incomplete. You tangled yourselves into knots over the planning, but the goal remained firm in your mind; a celebration with Carmy and your friends mixed with the legality of marriage. You would overcome any hurdles you needed to cross because all of it would be worth it in the end.

Wordlessly, you closed your mouth over the spoon. Your lips puckered and your tongue recoiled to the safety of your back molars.

“Oh, oh shit,” Sydney said emphatically, “you hate it.”

“N-no!” You coughed, swallowing, and grabbing your glass of water. “The acidity is just a little...strong. It needs to be adjusted, that’s all.”

“Fuck,” she said, slapping her palm on the wooden countertop. “Okay – uh – that’s okay. We can – I can totally fix this. No biggie.” When she tasted the glaze, her expression pinched before she stuck out her tongue and gagged. “Yeah, nope.” She released a forced, short laugh. “There’s no saving that one.”

You loved Syd’s earnest, anxious awkwardness. Her blunt nature had been the first foundational stone of your friendship. You liked that she didn’t let Carmy off the hook, regardless of his experience and talent, and their partnership was an integral component to the Bear’s continued success.

“Back to the drawing board,” you said, drumming your fingers on the countertop. “Maybe ginger is too sharp? Do we lean more savory?”

“Interesting idea coming from the baker,” she teased.

“Hey!” You pretended to be offended and infused your tone with as much indignation as you could. “Just because I run a bakery doesn’t mean I have a sweet tooth.”

Syd laughed. “There is literally a bowl of candy by the entryway.”

“It’s for Halloween.” You crossed your arms and said, “There are a ton of families in this building.” In truth, your lack of nicotine intake after quitting smoking had manifested into a ravenous sweet tooth and, the lollipops – although bad for your teeth – were monumentally healthier than cigarettes.

“Dude, Halloween is seven months away.”

“We’re prepared.”

“What for like kids who don’t know how to like tell time and show up a few months early?”

“Obviously.”

She finished scraping the glaze into the trash. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” Her bright smile faded and the light entered her dark eyes. You recognized it as her ‘I have an idea face’ and your mood lifted—the overly sour glaze quickly forgotten. When Carmy said he wanted The Bear to cater your wedding, you had been shocked, and concerned about the additional stress it would add to your lives. However, with Syd in your kitchen, the pan gripped in her hand and her expression rapt with wonder, you realized that you had nothing to worry about. The wedding’s menu and food preparation were in the best hands.

“Do you have any soy sauce?” she asked, “Worcestershire sauce will work too, or liquid aminos if we’re desperate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy watched as your fingers held aloft over the keyboard and the spreadsheet glared menacingly in a harsh blue-white glow. The guest list had been easy to start. The obvious ones were Syd, Natalie, Peter, Richie and Eva, and your best friend, Taylor. The harder choices were family and how to arrange the tables. Your eyebrows angled in confusion and you drew your hands away.

“I’m not inviting my dad,” you said after a moment’s pause.

Carmy nodded. “Okay.”

His neck prickled uncomfortably. It wasn’t the flushed heat that arrived when he felt embarrassed. No. This discomfort traveled from his neck to his fingers. It raked across his skin like a thousand needles, pricking every nerve, and drawing blood. He thought about going to his coat pocket and withdrawing a crumpled pack of cigarettes. The quick, cold rush of nicotine would ease his headache and calm his nerves. But, if he smoked, then he’d need to walk downstairs and into the blustery sharp gray wind of March. And he didn’t want to bail on you. The puzzle of who to invite and who to sit with whom was a project for the both of you to untangle.

“I dunno if I should…” He cleared his throat and looked away when your eyes met his over the laptop screen. “I dunno.”

“Your mom?” you correctly guessed.

Carmy sniffed, scratched the side of his nose, and nodded. His heart thumped into his ribs. Maybe he should take a walk. Maybe the March air would clear this dreadful feeling from his skull. His stomach hardened into a pit at the idea of his mom coming to his wedding. But, at the same time, his dread and fear congealed into a sharp guilt that curdled his stomach acid. His mom was a force to be reckoned with. A hurricane of a woman. He loved her. He didn’t know if he wanted her at the wedding. He knew she’d be upset if she weren’t invited. But, both of you decided to keep the guest list small. The careful cuts were necessary, and not just due to the frugality aspect, but in terms of everyone’s enjoyment.

“She’d make it about her,” he said, “remember Sophia’s second birthday?”

You placed your hand on the middle of Carmy’s back, right between his tense shoulder blades, and he forced a harsh exhale through his teeth. They almost called the police, Carmy thought with a frown. His mom showed up and seemed fine, and then shortly before cake and presents, she buckled little Sophia into her car and claimed that Natalie hated her and didn’t want Sophia to have a relationship with her grandmother. His niece, at the age when separation anxiety often occurred, cried so much that she threw up on her special birthday dress.

“I do,” you said and your eyes softened.

“I’m a terrible son,” Carmy said, “I’m a fucking asshole. We have to invite her, don’t we? She deserves to be there.”

“Carmy, you’re not.” You rubbed his back. “Do you think I’m an asshole for not inviting my dad?”

He quickly said, “No.” The pit in his stomach gnawed at his smoke-deprived lungs. “It’s different.”

“How so?”

“He has another family.” Carmy stood, raking his hand through his hair. “My mom only has Nat and me.”

“So you have to sacrifice your happiness and comfort for hers?”

“Yes!” he said immediately followed by a quick, “No. I don’t know.” He reached into his coat pocket hanging by the door and fished out the squashed packet of cigarettes.

You trailed after him and wound your arms around him, pressing your face into his back, your hands coming to rest over his heart. Carmy froze. The pressure of your hands on his chest made him realize how fast his heart was beating. He squeezed the cigarette packet and it crinkled beneath his clammy fingers.

“Remind me,” you said, voice faintly muffled by his t-shirt, “what was the possible diagnosis your therapist gave her?”

“Borderline personality disorder.” His therapist also said his mom could have narcissistic personality disorder, but BPD was more likely, based on his descriptions of childhood. It helped to have a name for it. It gave him a better understanding of everything he went through.

“Which defines her behavior but doesn’t excuse it,” you said as you circled around him to face him. “Carmy, I love you.” You cupped his face in your hands. “I will support you if you want to invite Donna and I’ll weather any storms she brings with her. Who knows...maybe it’ll be a good day for her.” Your tone toward the end of your sentence became dubious.

Carmy sighed. “I don’t think I want to invite her, but I feel like I should.” He frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, it does. You feel an obligation as her son to share this big moment with her. I get it.”

“Do you feel guilty about not inviting your dad?”

“A little.” Your lips pursed. “But, if I visualize our wedding, the thought of my dad standing beside me doesn’t make me happy. I don’t feel excited about it. I just feel…”

“Dread?” he guessed.

You smiled faintly. “It’s more annoyance and anger for me.”

“Mm, yeah. Makes sense.” He leaned his forehead and touched it to yours. How did he get so lucky? He imagined the wedding. He imagined seeing you across from him, sliding the ring on your finger, and stuttering through his vows. The usual nervousness bubbled up inside his chest, but it was smothered by the overwhelming warmth and affection he felt for you that bled across his skin like thick honey.

“I don’t think I can invite her,” he whispered.

“That’s okay, Carm.” You kissed him softly. “That’s okay.” You repeated against his mouth. A sensation of cool and blissful relief extinguished the last lingering remnants of his dread.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is weird,” you said, leaning forward in the passenger seat. “Why are there two florist vans? Did we accidentally get two?” You didn’t recognize the name on the second van either. Must be a local shop, you thought, although that doesn’t explain why they’re here.

“I don’t think so,” Carmy said.

As everyone poured out of their cars, their garment bags slung over their arms or over their shoulders, a sharply dressed black woman emerged from the entrance and strode purposefully toward you and Carmy.

“You must be the Berzattos,” she said breathlessly as she shook your hands. “It’s good to meet you. My name is Vivienne and I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“What sort of bad news?” Richie said, “The kind that gets us a discount?” He grinned at Carmy and your husband-to-be rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps.”

Richie whispered, “Oh shit.”

“We’ve had some technical issues with our new scheduling program.” She wrung her hands together. “The venue has been double-booked.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, noticing all the additional staff buzzing to and fro across the manicured lawn.

Vivienne said, “I’m so sorry for the mistake. If you’d like, we can reschedule you.”

Your stomach dropped into your shoes.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “people flew out to be here. We can’t reimburse flights and accommodations, and nor should we have to considering this is your error.” You sighed, feeling a headache press into your temples. “Why didn’t you notify us?”

“How about a discount and you can split the venue?” she offered, “we only realized the mistake when the two catering companies showed up.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” said Richie.

“Fuck,” Syd said.

Natalie crossed her arms. “I’m sorry did they say double-booked?”

“Mommy!” Sophia pulled at Natalie’s pant leg. “Mommy, look! Sunflowers!” She pointed at the floral van carrying out their arrangements.

You shared a glance with Carmy. “Can we have a minute?”

“Of course. Again, we’re so sorry.”

You and Carmy broke away from the group of your closest friends and family. You rubbed your hands down the length of your face.

“We can’t reschedule,” you said, “but how the hell are we going to share the venue? They have one kitchen and we paid for our guests to stay the night.”

“Maybe the timing works out,” Carmy said, taking your hand in his. “You want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck it. We stay.”

“Okay, fuck it.” You smiled. “Let’s negotiate a good discount.”

“Say the word and I’ll send Pete in,” Carmy joked.

You laughed. “God, we might need him.”

The organization was a cluster-fuck. The venue manager, Vivienne, assured and promised that the space was large enough and that the other party – the Carmichael's – were having a noon wedding with a 2 PM reception and everything would be cleaned up for your 4 PM wedding and 5 PM reception. But, you noticed the proverbial cracks in the foundation. The necessary kitchen prep work, the clashing decorations, the intermingling guests, and the underlying stress and confusion permeated every interaction. You practiced intentional breathing and hoped you’d make it through the day without bursting into stress-induced tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zipper was halfway up when it broke. You felt the snag, then the tug and pull, and the abrupt separation. You pressed your hand to your mouth and muffled the noise of discontent and frustration that threatened to break free.

Taylor pushed her long, thick dark braid over her shoulder and pursed her red lips at you. “We can work with this,” she said after a long moment of contemplation. “We can fix it.”

You released a strangled, “can we?” You blinked back your burning tears—you didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“Yeah, most of these places have emergency sewing kits,” your best friend said while digging through the drawers, “also, this might be a bad time, but is the chef single?”

Despite everything, you laughed. “Which chef?”

“The tall blonde one with the accent.”

“Luca?”

Taylor’s eyes brightened. “Yes!”

“I’ll find out for you,” you said while reaching for your phone. You smiled at the sight of your phone background, a black and white photo of you and Carmy, and Taylor snickered.

“I remember when you told me about him,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were all tied into knots about it...and now look at you! Tying the knot.” She winked. “I’m glad you guys figured it out.”

Your chest warmed with pleasure. “Me too.”

“Aha!” She held the little sewing kit aloft. It had the venue's name printed on the front of the bag. “Do you think they write this so nobody steals it?” She asked while tapping the swooping decal.

Before you could answer, your mom bustled into the room, her billowing lilac sleeves trailing after her arms.

“Oh! Look at you!” She grabbed your chin and kissed your cheek. “I’ve got something for you. A little tradition.”

“Mom, I don’t know if I can stomach any more surprises.” Taylor began to fix your zipper and the cold metal teeth periodically kissed your skin.

“You’ll like this surprise.”

Your mom removed a potted plant from her purse. The dark soil clung to her fingertips, the plant likely got knocked around more than once, as she set it down on the vanity. You recognized the wide, verdant leaves.

“A basil plant?”

“Normally, we give a flower of some type, but I chose a basil plant instead.” She smiled, pleased. “Nurture the plant as you nurture your future and it’ll thrive.”

Your throat tightened. “Thanks, Mom.” Your shoulders jerked as Taylor finished zipping and she whooped in triumphant delight.

“There we go, crisis averted,” said Taylor, “now we don’t have to worry about walking down the aisle naked.”

You rubbed your fingertips along the basil leaf and smiled at them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“God,” Richie said, fixing his tie, “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married, cousin.”

“Yeah, me either.” Carmy scratched the side of his nose.

“I always thought Mikey’d get married before you,” he said, “he was just more charmin’, you know? He had a way with people, women especially, God…” Richie shook his head. “He couldn’t walk down the street without getting some chick’s phone number.”

Carmy stared sullenly at his reflection. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t? ‘Cause then he’d have an ex-wife, or a widow, or a kid or somethin, I dunno.”

Carmy wondered if he’d forever be in rooms with Mikey’s shadow stuck to the corners. It didn’t suffocate him as much anymore. Mikey’s memory lurked within every conversation – like slivers of light through the paneled window shades. Today of all days though, Carmy suspected those slivers would blind him. Mikey should’ve been here, could’ve been, and he wasn’t.

“Yeah, good point.” Richie turned the side and smoothed his lapels. “Still, it should be him.”

Carmy’s neck flushed with indignation. Did Richie seriously have to be such an asshole? His brow furrowed. It was his fucking wedding day for fuck’s sake!

“Cousin—” Carmy began.

“Standing here, I mean, as your best man,” said Richie. “Look, there’s no takebacks and this would be a hell of a time to change your mind but it should’ve been Mikey. Not me. I get that, okay? That’s all I’m trying to say…” He fixed his tie again. “And I’m gonna do everything to make sure that this day doesn’t go to shit. I can promise you that, alright?”

Carmy blinked, at a loss for words at Richie’s admission. It had been six years and counting since Mikey’s death and Richie had been with him for every one. If he was being honest with himself and not caught up on nostalgia, if Mikey was here, then Carmy wasn’t sure he would have trusted him with all the responsibility. Hell, Richie organized a pizza-making bachelor party for him. He offered to trash the other couple’s wedding.

“Who else would it be?” he asked softly, “you’re family, Richie.”

Richie sniffed, nodded, and clapped his hand on Carmy’s shoulder, jostling him. When Carmy met his eyes, they were glassy and bright.

“I know.” His lips twitched up into a grin. “Let’s get you fucking married!” He pulled Carmy in a one-armed, half-hug and shook him. “Put a fucking smile on that face, Carm. Come on! Come on!”

He affectionately pinched Carmy’s face in one hand, squishing his mouth, and Carmy shoved Richie away, annoyed, but laughing—in the same way he’d get annoyed and laugh whenever Mikey goofed around with him.

“Fuck off,” said Carmy, without any heat.

“Hey,” Syd poked her head into the doorway, “you ready? The photographer wants to see all of the groomsmen.”

“Shouldn’t you say grooms-people? To be like politically correct or whatever,” Richie asked, “or groomsmen and women considering you’re among us.”

Syd made a face. “Richie shut up and come pose with us.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be inclusive,” he said loudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If someone asked you to recount all the details of your wedding—you didn’t think you could. It was the busiest and most stressful day of your life. You’d always remember the finer details like Carmy’s thoughtful, flustered vows, Richie starting a limbo competition, or Syd’s dad dancing with Taylor—at least for a while until she disappeared with Luca in tow. Good for you, you remembered thinking as you watched her form retreat down the hall.

But the rest of the day was an exuberant blur. It had been long and you were grateful to relax into the lush pillowcases with your short silk gown kissing your skin.

Carmy climbed into bed after showering and peppered kisses along your nose and jaw, his hands finding your hips beneath the covers and holding them.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you said with soft laughter before chasing his lips with yours.

“And you’re my wife,” he said, lifting your wrists and placing them over your head, “keep those there.”

You said, “We’ve been married less than twelve hours and you’re already bossing me around?”

Carmy chuckled and his breath puffed over your peaked nipples. His tongue laved over the silk, and moistened it before he drew your nipple between his lips. The soft silk and warmth of Carmy’s tongue was a heady, back-arching mixture.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, plunging your hands into his damp curls and scraping your nails over his scalp.

“Yeah?” His calloused palm felt its way down your thigh, “Are you wet for me already?”

“A little,” you admitted as you parted your legs for him.

“God,” he muttered before mouthing along your breasts and wetting the silk with his tongue and lips. He held one of your breasts in his hand and squeezed, pushing the mound into his mouth again and sucking your hard nipple. The sensation turned to liquid, sticky heat between your legs. You moaned, pushing upward into his grasp and gyrating your hips in askance. His hand was frustratingly close to your cunt, but not close enough. He rubbed up and down your inner thigh from knee to apex, letting his knuckles occasionally brush your pussy, before drawing away without adding any pressure. The fucking nerve of him!

“My wife is so fucking hot,” Carmy said, and hearing the words sent a hot, fresh thrill trembling through you.

“And my husband is a fucking tease,” you said, digging your fingertips into his hard, sculpted shoulders.

Carmy pulled his mouth away from your wet breasts. The silk had darkened where his mouth had been and you could faintly see your nipples through the semi-translucent fabric.

“Am I?” He drew his hands away from you and grabbed your wrists again, pinning them above your head, “I thought I said to keep these here.”

You snorted. “When have I ever listened?”

“You’re a great listener,” he said honestly.

“I want to touch you, Carmy,” you said, matching his honesty with your own, even as his praise sang through your ears and warmed your skin.

He softened. “Okay.” He pulled your wedding ring-adorned hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. The moment he released your hand, you slid your fingers down his chest, smiling at the way his eyelashes fluttered and his cheeks darkened. You wiggled your fingers beneath the tight waistband of his boxer shorts and found him hard and pulsing within your grasp.

“Fuck.” He shuddered. “I feel like I could come just by looking at you.”

He jerked his hips into your touch as your fingers encircled him. You craned your neck upward and kissed him, finding the familiar rhythm of tongue and teeth, and moaning wantonly into his mouth when his hand cupped your wet folds. He hissed when his index finger pledged into you and your mind went white-hot and blank.

“Do you think the stress of the day has manifested into being super horny for each other?” You asked, your other hand cupping the back of Carmy’s neck, pinning his face close to yours so you could kiss him. His pretty blue eyes blinked at you.

“Maybe. But, I think I just want to fuck my wife.” His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned.

“It turns you on to call me your wife, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

His admission made your walls clench around his index finger. Maybe you liked it too. Maybe. You felt Carmy smile against your lips. “Can’t wait to be inside you,” he muttered, “filling you, listening to you moan.”

You gasped and your eyes rolled back into your skull. It wasn’t often that Carmy engaged in dirty talk, so when he did, it was a rare and special treat that never failed to drench your core. Carmy ran his tongue along your neck, tasting your sweat before a second finger speared between your folds and coaxed that inner fire.

“Keep this on,” he said, dragging his teeth across the strap of your gown, “when I fuck you.”

“Mm – fuck. Okay,” you groaned.

“Actually, I—” his words were suddenly lost to a moan as you adjusted your grip on his cock, your fingers slicked with pre-cum. “Fuck, baby. I need you on top of me.”

“Gladly.”

Carmy rolled onto his back, yanking his shorts down, and you smiled at the sight of him – as desperate as you were with his chest heaving and his wet curls falling onto his forehead. Your walls clenched in anticipation as you hiked the hem of the dress over your hips. Carmy’s hands settled on your thighs and he watched hungrily as you held the base of his cock and slowly lowered yourself onto him. Your spine convulsed and the sensation of him stretching you and filling you wiped out every lingering thought in your mind.

“God,” his voice was strangled, “you feel so fucking amazing.”

You cupped his face, resting your forehead on his as you rode him, and said, “so do you.”

“I love you so much,” Carmy said reverently, “so goddamn much.”

Your heart threatened to break and regrow the from sheer tenderness of his words. Carmy, you learned over the years, expressed his love with acts of service and he said ‘I love you’ most often while having sex. However, something about this ‘I love you’ was different. It was more intense on your post-wedding night. You buried your face into his sweaty neck, your bodies and hearts joined, your futures intrinsically linked.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tilted the watering can over the thriving basil plant and smiled.

“Auntie.” Sophia, freshly eight years old, held something in her hands. “I found a worm.”

You blinked at her. “Put it back?”

“Okay!” She replied cheerily and dropped the worm back into the potted rosemary. She spun when the balcony door slid open. “Hi Uncle Carmy! Do you want to see the worm?” She pointed.

Carmy smiled, first at his niece, and then at you. “Let me see,” he said, crouching. He balanced his wrists on his knees and the sunlight gleamed off his wedding band. Your heart skipped. My husband. You wondered what your grandfather would say if you could tell him that his death led you to your soulmate, a second family, and a range of new friends. Knowing him he’d tell me that he would’ve died sooner if he knew how happy it’d make me. Your grandfather had had a wry sense of humor.

Carmy stood and put his arm around you. “We’re going to need to re-pot the basil if it keeps growing like this,” he said absentmindedly.

You leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen 'carmy' berzatto x you

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persevereforahappyending · 10 months

Text

This isn't Your Fault (Sam POV)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Let’s go,” Sam said, somehow sounding calmer than she felt, Tara needed her to be her rock at the moment though and that’s the one thing she knew she could do right for her sister.

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 6.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Sam was slumped in the chair in the family room, her head hanging low as she had it buried in her hands. They had just gotten back to the apartment a few minutes ago after Sam had dragged Tara out of a frat party. Sam had just gotten off her second job at a crappy diner, she had come home hoping to just order a pizza and have a nice night in with her sister, but Tara had different plans and now Sam had tased a creepy guy in the balls, had a drink thrown on her, and Tara was mad at her, the exact opposite of a nice night in.

Sam knew Tara wanted to have a normal life, Sam knew she was probably hanging on a little too tight, but how could she not? She didn’t get how Tara could completely ignore what happened to her, it happened a year ago and she hadn’t talked about it with anyone. Sam was actively trying to find a therapist to talk to and was still struggling, she didn’t get how Tara could just ignore it all.

Richie and Amber attacked Tara because she was related to Sam, because Sam was the secret daughter of Billy Loomis. Everything that happened last year was all Sam’s fault. Then all these reddit users started saying Sam lied and she was actually the killer, setting up Richie. Tara being related to her automatically put her in danger. Sam couldn’t just back off and let Tara do whatever she wanted because if something happened, then once again it would be her fault.

She didn’t know what, but she knew Tara was keeping something from her. Tara still acted normal, arguing with her, and fighting her on every little thing but there was some nights Sam would come home after therapy and Tara would be placed on the couch, happily watching a random show. She also had her phone gripped tightly in her hand, always keeping it just out of sight of Sam so she couldn’t see who she was texting. Anytime Sam found the courage to ask, Tara would brush her off saying it was just Mindy or Chad, occasionally it would be some person from class she had to work with.

She just wished Tara would talk to her. Tara never talked to her anymore, she didn’t even share how her classes were going. Sam didn’t get the whole movie thing, especially after what happened but she tried to show interest because Tara still loved horror movies. Tara would always just brush her off saying class was fine or saying she had homework, going to her room and kicking the door closed. Sam knew it was her fault, she left for five years and then came back trying to parent Tara, telling her what to do.

Sam had to admit the truth to herself, Tara didn’t need her. Sam left when Tara was thirteen, not coming back for five years. By that point Tara was eighteen, she was still young and despite what she might believe she had a lot to learn but she was an adult. By the time she came back Tara didn’t need her anymore. Sam knew exactly who their mom was when she left and yet she still did it. She left Tara alone with their mom who was an alcoholic and an absentee mother at best. Sam was all Tara had and Sam just left her to basically deal with their mom and raise herself. Sam couldn’t blame Tara for hating her.

“You good T?” Mindy asked.

Mindy’s voice broke Sam out of the downward spiral she seemed to be in. Sam looked up at Mindy, noticing her looking behind her. Sam turned her head to see Tara standing in the doorway, phone up to her ear, tears in her eyes, not looking at any of them.

Sam shot to her feet, her mind instantly going to the worst-case scenario. “Tara?” Sam asked slowly, trying to get her sister to meet her eyes. “Who’s on the phone?” Sam held her breath, hoping Tara would snap out of it and just say it was some jerk making a prank call.

Tara’s eyes slowly moved from whatever spot she had been staring at finally to Sam’s eyes. Sam wished she could let out a sigh of relief, but it just made everything worse. Tara met her gaze and her tears finally started to fall. Tara’s lips quivered, her mouth moving as if she wanted to say something but was too afraid to speak. Sam looked back at the others, going on high alert, whoever Tara was on the phone with wasn’t a prank caller.

“Y/N?” Tara asked, finally speaking for the first time since she entered the room. “Y/N?” she said again, more concerned.

Sam scrunched her eyebrows at the name, she didn’t recognize it. She had never heard Tara so much as mention anyone by the name Y/N but clearly Tara knew whoever was on the phone. Sam turned, silently trying to ask the others who the hell this person was, she knew Tara didn’t tell her everything, but she figured at least Mindy or Chad would know.

Chad had no idea who Y/N was based on the way he just shrugged. He did turn off the TV, setting the remote down and turning to Tara, just as concerned as Sam. Mindy furrowed her brow at the name, so she recognized the name. It was Anika who had the real reaction though. The second the name left Tara’s mouth, Anika was on her feet, concern filling her eyes. Anika knew who Y/N was, well enough to be worried about them.

“Baby, are you there?” came Tara’s concerned voice again, the tears freely falling from her eyes now.

Sam’s head snapped back to her sister so quick she might have gotten whiplash. Baby? Tara had called this person on the phone baby. Tara knew Y/N a lot better than Sam thought. Sam knew Tara was keeping things from her but now it seemed as if she truly didn’t know her sister at all. She couldn’t help the way her mouth hung open, shocked that Tara had someone who was clearly important to her in her life. She looked back to the others seeing everyone just as surprised, even Anika. It made Sam feel slightly better that no one seemed to know who Tara was seeing, even though that meant Tara had been lying not just to her but all their friends.

Tara jumped, then jumped again, and again, and again. Tears quickly filled her eyes again as she slowly began to hyperventilate. Sam moved forward instantly, gripping Tara by her shoulders. She tried to get Tara to look her in the eye, to focus on her but Tara just looked through her. Sam searched Tara frantically, she needed her to get control of her breathing before she had an asthma attack.

Sam watched as her little sister stopped jumping, she held her breath as she slowly started to cry. It was clear Tara wanted to sob, her body shaking, but she wasn’t making a sound. She stood there frozen, focused on whatever was going on, on the other end of the phone. Sam looked back to the others, hoping one of them might have a plan, they also just stood there confused and concerned like her.

“Don’t hurt them, please,” Tara begged, her voice cracking.

Sam’s heart broke at her sisters’ words. That’s when she knew for sure, he was back, Ghostface was back, and he was attacking whoever Tara had been sneaking around with. Sam turned to the others, a newly determined look on her face, she saw all three of them on their feet, looking to her for leadership.

“We need to move,” she said. The others nodded, quickly shuffling around the room, tripping over themselves as they tried to move so quickly. “Call 911,” she ordered one of them.

“An address would be helpful,” Chad commented.

“On it,” Anika said, her voice wavering, tears had slowly started to fall down her cheeks as she fumbled with her phone.

“Please! She has nothing to do with this!” Tara sobbed, making Sam turn back to her. She saw the way Tara gripped her phone, clenching her hair in her other hand, the pain of not being able to help you.

Seeing her sister that desperate, begging for Ghostface to not hurt you in the moment made everything clear to Sam. You weren’t just some random hookup Tara had been hiding and doing just to defy Sam, another act of rebellion. Tara actually cared about you, maybe even loved you. In that moment Sam realized she knew exactly what her sister was going through, her heart broke all over again. Tara looked exactly how she felt a year ago when Ghostface had called her, toying with her while they were in the hospital asking Sam to choose between Tara and Richie. At the time Sam didn’t know Richie was behind everything, so Ghostface trying to make her choose between her sister and the guy she loved was the worst feeling in the world. Being on the phone as Ghostface taunted her, knowing Ghostface was right there, attacking someone she loved. Sam was losing her mind, desperate to help her sister, but literally not able to do anything but beg to a killer, beg for her sister not to be hurt, even though she knew Ghostface would do it anyway.

“Please,” Tara said in another desperate act to try and get Ghostface to listen. Sam knew he wouldn’t, he never did. He played a game, pretending he’d let someone live but then kill them anyway. Sam refused to let Tara listen to someone she cared about die.

Tara was sobbing, her breathing completely erratic. Sam looked at her sister, descending further and further into panic. She ran to Tara’s room, grabbing the inhaler that had been tossed on the bed. Sam frowned at seeing Tara had been using her inhaler before she came into the living room. Sam clenched her jaw; she didn’t know how long Tara had been listening to someone she cared about being attacked before she came out to where they all were. Her sister was in her room, panicking over someone she cared for being attacked, while Sam sat in the living room feeling sorry for herself. Sam shook her head, gripping the inhaler tighter as she ran back out to Tara.

“No!” she heard Tara scream when she got back into the room. She stood before her sister again, seeing her frantically look around the room, desperate to help you even though she was miles from wherever you were.

Sam had had enough, she tried reaching for the phone. She didn’t want Tara listening to this anymore, if Ghostface wanted to taunt and torture someone then she wanted it to be her. Tara didn’t deserve this and even though Sam had no idea who you were she knew you were innocent; you didn’t deserve whatever Ghostface was doing to you. When Sam reached for the phone though, Tara slapped her hand away. Tara turned, finally seeming to see Sam again because when Sam moved to grab at the phone again, Tara stepped out of her reach. Sam gritted her teeth at her sister’s stubbornness.

Sam gripped Tara tightly by the shoulder, forcing Tara to face her again. Sam saw Tara clench her fist, ready to spin around and deck her, just like she had been ready to jump at that girl who threw her drink at Sam earlier that night. Sam stilled herself, waiting to feel the impact of a fist on her face. Getting punched by her sister was hardly the least of her worries at the moment. The hit never came though, when Tara’s eyes met hers again, she slowly unclenched her fist.

“We have to go,” Sam said, she loosened her grip on Tara slightly.

Tara quickly shook her head. “I can’t,” she sobbed. “I-I-I-can’t. I-” Tara was stuttering, unable to get her words out. Sam looked at her sister, her eyes wide with worry. She gently opened Tara’s hand, placing the inhaler in her palm. Tara looked at her hand and Sam guided it up towards her face, hoping Tara would take over the movement. Thankfully she did, taking a huff of her inhaler, then another one. Sam let out a sigh as Tara’s breathing slowly started to even out.

“Let’s go,” Sam said, somehow sounding calmer than she felt, Tara needed her to be her rock at the moment though and that’s the one thing she knew she could do right for her sister. “We can’t help here,” she looked at Tara softly, needing her to understand. “Let’s go.” When Tara finally nodded, Sam grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the front door. “Chad!” she called out, she needed to know he was on the phone with help.

“Already calling 911,” he said quickly, phone to his ear as he started talking to the dispatcher.

“Anika-”

“Already texted you her address,” Anika said softly, her eyes red from the tears that had started to fall. Sam pulled out her phone, seeing the text, she mouthed a thank you to the girl then gently pulled Tara out the door.

Sam rushed down the steps, jumping down half of them. She knew exactly how little time they had to get to someone during a Ghostface attack, she was going to do everything in her power to make sure Tara didn’t have to go through losing someone she cared about again. Once on the street, Sam flagged down a cab, practically running into the middle of the street to make sure one stopped. She flung open the door, giving the cabbie her phone before she was even seated.

Sam watched Tara carefully as she took the phone away from her ear, tears streaming down her face. She was starting to struggle with her breathing again. Tara’s knuckles were white with how tightly she was gripping the phone, she was staring off into space. She was gasping for breath as she tried to slow down her breathing, but the more she tried to slow her breathing down, the more worked up she got.

“No!” cut through the phone. Sam’s head snapped to the phone, gripped in her sister’s hand. She hadn’t heard your voice yet, but you just screamed loud enough for her to hear from a phone that wasn’t even near her ear.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said, gently grabbing Tara by the face to turn her towards her. “Breath,” she said softly. Sam took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. She did it a few times, hoping Tara would match her breathing and calm down.

She saw Tara trying to match her breathing, but it wasn’t working. Tara had to bring her inhaler back to her mouth. After another huff and taking a few small breaths, her breathing started to even out. Sam let out a small sigh of relief, but she knew it wasn’t over yet. She knew Tara was going to be struggling until she was by your side, and you were safe.

She furrowed her brows as she watched Tara take the phone away from her ear again, holding it loosely as she held it in her lap. She stared down at the phone, tears streaming down her face. She had never seen her sister look so broken before.

“I can’t lose her,” Tara whispered. She started sobbing, violently shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t,” she kept repeating.

Sam quickly wrapped Tara in her arms. Tara gripped her shirt tight, pulling at the fabric to hold onto Sam as tight as possible. Tara buried her face in Sam’s shoulder and just sobbed. Sam tried to comfort her sister as best as she could, holding her tight and running her hand through Tara’s hair for some comfort. She didn’t care that Tara’s tears had already completely soaked her shirt, she just wanted to sister to not be in pain anymore.

Sam jolted forward a little, her hand going out to brace herself against the front seat as the cab came to a screeching halt. She was fishing out her wallet when Tara let go of her and was already throwing open the cab door. The cabbie started to yell since he hadn’t fully come to a stop, but Sam just tossed him the money and rushed out after her sister. She knew Tara was worried, but they didn’t know if Ghostface was still there, he could have called knowing Tara would come running, and then he would be able to kill her as well.

By the time Sam was out of the cab Tara had the front door flung open and was already inside. Sam held back a sigh, it wasn’t the time to berate Tara over her disregard for her own safety, but that didn’t mean Sam wouldn’t bring it up later. Tara didn’t need to be as paranoid as Sam, but Sam would appreciate it if her sister had just an ounce of self-preservation instead of just blindly going with whatever she wanted.

Sam rushed into the house, her eyes darting all around. The first thing she saw was the giant knife mark in the front door. She reached up, her hand running down the side of the cracked wood. She turned, seeing Tara kneeled down and sobbing over your body. Sam couldn’t help let out a small sigh of relief, you were obviously struggling to breath based on the ragged breaths coming from you but as long as she could see your chest moving, she was happy, it meant you were alive, it meant Tara wouldn’t lose someone else she loved.

Sam did a quick once over of the place, making sure Ghostface wouldn’t come out and try surprise attacking them. She glanced up the stairs but didn’t move to go up, she wouldn’t go that far from Tara. She did a quick check of the rooms, finding nothing. She noticed the back door in the kitchen was left wide open. She assumed Ghostface took off right as they got there, knowing he most likely couldn’t take both Tara and Sam. She was still cautious, her head on the swivel as she moved to be by Tara’s side.

She stood over you and Tara, slowly kneeling down to be by her sister’s side. She saw the crushed phone by the couch and a baseball bat by your side. Sam took in the scene; she didn’t see any blood or stab wounds like someone would during any other Ghostface attack. She figured you probably had the bat and tried to defend yourself and when Ghostface got the upper hand he decided to taunt you by using the item you tried to defend yourself with to hurt you. You had your hand clutched to your chest, and it was clear it had been crushed, most likely stomped on hard, based on the boot print Sam could still see on your skin.

“Baby,” Tara whispered. “I’m here, I’m right here.” Sam sucked in a breath as she saw your eyes slowly start to drift closed. “Hey, no, stay awake baby,” Tara whispered loudly, the desperation coming through. “Stay awake.”

Sam watched as your eyes finally closed, she couldn’t help the tears that filled her own eyes. She had never seen a Ghostface attack like this. Sam had always come in after the attack when the victim was already dead, like with Wes and Judy. Or she was always part of the attack and to busy trying to stay alive and save her sister. Even with Tara’s own attack Sam never saw it. Sam didn’t have to come home and find her sister bleeding out. Sam got a call and when she showed up, she already knew Tara was alive and in the hospital. Sam never had to go through this, the waiting, the finding you alive but waiting to see if you’d actually make it.

Sam realized this is what Tara must have felt when she was attacked. Tara was home alone at night, like you were. She was caught unsuspected and had to fight for her life, thinking she’d die. You weren’t apart of Woodsboro but were made a target because of your connection to Tara, you never would have imagined being attacked by a psycho. You and Tara were both left for dead, left to slowly die alone. The only difference is you were on the phone with Tara, Tara was able to come running and be by your side. Tara though, Tara had no one until the police got there. Tara should have had Sam, but Sam had run away, Sam should have been there.

It felt like minutes but really hardly any time had passed since they arrived, but there were flashing red and blue lights outside. Sam was still a little surprised she and Tara had beaten them there. Sam saw the paramedics stomping in through the front door, she quickly wrapped her arms around Tara’s waist and lifted her up out of the way. Tara sobbed and flailed her arms, but it was no use, Sam held her tight. Sam backed them up, so they were out of the way, watching as the medics got to work, checking your pulse, lifting you onto a backboard and carrying you away. Sam knew she was the only thing keeping Tara from slumping to the floor, luckily for her Tara was rather small.

Once they lost sight out of you exiting through the front door, Tara seemed to find her strength again and wiggled out of Sams grasp. Sam reached out trying to grab her again, but Tara was off, already halfway out the door. When Sam got outside, she saw Tara about to get in the back of the ambulance, but a medic stopped her, once Tara stepped down the medic closed the doors and took off, lights flashing and siren blaring.

“We can meet her there,” Sam said softly, slowly approaching her sister. She hesitated but reached out to gently touch her arm, she didn’t want to startle her.

Tara just nodded; her head slumped as Sam flagged down another cab. The ride was a little calmer than the first one but there was an uncomfortable silence. Sam tried not to stare but she kept glancing at her sister, worried. Tara didn’t say anything, didn’t even look in her general direction, she just stared ahead out the window with an emotionless expression.

When they got to the hospital Tara once again bailed out of the cab while Sam was trying to pay. Sam was just grateful she waited until the cab was fully stopped this time. Sam slipped out of the cab and sighed; Tara was nowhere in sight. She made her way into the hospital and saw Tara at the reception desk already harassing the nurse there. Sam approached just as the nurse was telling Tara that you were in surgery, and someone would come out when they knew your status. Sam gave a grateful smile to the nurse and apologized to her for her sister, who was currently glaring at her for not being told what she wanted to hear.

Sam managed to lead Tara to the waiting room. She silently planted herself in a chair, bringing her feet up so she could rest her chin on her knees. Sam watched for a second as Tara just stared, unblinking at the white wall in front of them. She pulled out her phone shooting a group text to Mindy, Chad, and Anika. Sam was just beginning to sit down when she got a response not a minute later. The first person to respond was Anika, saying they were on their way. Sam had never met you or even heard your name, but it was obvious Anika knew you well enough to be so worried about you.

It wasn’t even half an hour later before feet were running through the halls, squeaking on the white tile. Sam looked up at the same time as Tara to see their friends. Chad plopped down next to Tara; Anika gave Tara a comforting squeeze of the hand before taking a seat across from them with Mindy by her side. Mindy and Chad watched Tara with concern, constantly looking at Sam to see if she was okay, Sam could only shrug, she knew Tara would only be okay when she knew you were out of surgery and recovering. Anika wasn’t crying but it was clear she had been, her cheeks were tear stained and Sam could see how her mascara was smeared from wiping her eyes so much.

Sam did the only thing she could do, she sat next to Tara, one arm around her, running her hand up and down Tara’s back. Sam couldn’t offer any other comfort, she knew that. No matter what Sam said it wouldn’t mean anything until Tara could see you safe and sound for herself.

Chad had gotten up and a few minutes later returned with sandwiches and juice. Sam smiled gratefully to him. She would have gone and gotten everyone something, but she didn’t want to leave Tara, she was thankful he did it. He sat two sandwiches and two cartons of juice next to Anika and Mindy before plopping back down in his seat. He held out a sandwich and juice for Tara, but she just shook her head.

“You have to eat,” Sam tried convincing her sister. Tara just shook her head, shoving Chad’s hand away. Chad sighed and looked up at Sam. Sam let out a sigh as well and took the sandwich and juice from him, she mouthed a silent thank you and put the sandwich and juice in her pocket for later.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the nurse said, coming out to the waiting room after a few hours.

“Is she okay?” Tara asked, being the first to her feet, shortly followed by everyone else.

“Relation?”

“She’s, my girlfriend.” Sam still wasn’t used to hearing those words, but Tara said them easily, like she had been saying it for a long time.

The nurse nodded and said, “She’s out of surgery and in a room recovering, you’re welcome to go see her.”

“How is she?” Tara whispered, her voice sounding so small and more scared than Sam had ever heard.

The nurse sighed, putting her chart down, and looked at Tara with so much kindness and sympathy. “She’s alive.” Finally hearing those words made Tara let out a relieved sob. Sam couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, she was trying so hard to be hopeful for Tara, but her mind kept going to the worst. “Her left hand was practically shattered, and she’s got seven broken or cracked ribs.” Sam’s eyes widened, she knew your injuries were bad, but she didn’t realize how extensive, though this was still one of the best-case scenarios when it came to a Ghostface attack. “It’ll take some time, but she’ll be okay,” the nurse smiled reassuringly at Tara then the others. Sam gave her a grateful nod as the nurse walked away.

You were only allowed two visitors at a time so the others said they would continue to wait in the waiting room while Tara went to see you. Sam watched as they all hugged or comforted Tara, knowing everything would actually be okay. Sam knew she didn’t know you, but she decided to go with Tara, she wanted to be there for her in case she needed her, even if it meant just sitting silently in the room while Tara sat by your bedside.

If she was allowed Sam was sure Tara would have sprinted through the halls to get to your room. Luckily for Sam she settled for a brisk walk. Tara was already in the elevator, smacking the floor your room was on multiple times by the time Sam got there. Sam had to turn sideways to make it before the doors closed, it was abundantly clear Tara wasn’t waiting for her and if Sam couldn’t make the elevator, then oh well.

Tara was out of the elevator as soon as she could fit her body through the opening. Sam trailed a few seconds behind her. She watched as her sister made her way through the halls, nothing standing in her way. Sam apologized to several nurses and doctors Tara didn’t necessarily shove out of the way, but she didn’t break her stride and walked right in front of them without even glancing in their direction.

When Sam caught up to her sister, she was standing at the threshold of your hospital room. She stared into your room, staring at your unconscious body lying in the hospital bed. Sam reached up, poking her in the shoulder. Sam wanted to laugh at how quickly Tara turned to glare at her, but she decided to just give an encouraging nod. Once Tara entered the room, she rushed to your side, pulling a chair next to your bed until it was pressed up against your bedside. Tara’s eyes didn’t leave you as she reached forward, gripping your uninjured hand in her own.

Sam slowly entered the room as well. A part of her felt like she was intruding. She didn’t know you; she’d never met you; she had never even heard of you until a few hours ago. She didn’t think you’d mind her being there though since it meant her being there for Tara. Sam slowly sat in the chair that had been next to the one Tara moved, she didn’t move it from its position though.

Sam leaned forward in the chair, watching Tara watch you. She could tell Tara had visibly relaxed, finally, just being at your side and seeing you safe for herself. Sam knew it wasn’t the right time, but her mind had been spiraling from the moment Tara walked out into the living room with the phone in her hand. “H-how long?” she whispered; she couldn’t stop herself from wondering.

“Six months,” Tara answered with a small sniffle, her eyes never leaving you.

“Six,” Sam let out a shaky breath, leaning back in her chair. “Six months. You’ve been keeping this from us, from me?” Sam couldn’t help the crack in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, her voice becoming small like it did when Sam was mad at her.

Sam’s heart broke even more for her sister thinking she was mad at her. She wasn’t happy with Tara for keeping this secret, but she certainly wasn’t mad. She was mostly just hurt that Tara felt like she had to keep such a secret.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Sam assured her. “Have I really pushed you away that much?” she couldn’t help the way her voice cracked again. “Did you really feel like you couldn’t come to me, share this with me?” Sam’s eyes started to fill with tears at the thought that her paranoia pushed her sister so far away that she didn’t want to share things with Sam, that she didn’t want to share someone who made her so happy with Sam.

Sam watched as Tara finally turned to look at her, her eyes filling with tears again. “No, no, no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “I just…” Sam watched Tara’s face as she tried to search for the right words. “I just, I was afraid of how you’d react,” she finally mumbled, dropping her eyes to the floor as if she was ashamed of the thought. “You tend to get a little… intense,” her eyes flicked up to Sam’s again before quickly finding the floor again, “when meeting new people. Not like the others are much better. I just didn’t want you guys to scare her off.”

“We wouldn’t-” Sam quickly went to defend herself but was cut off by Tara raising a brow at her. Sam quickly snapped her mouth shut. Even she knew what she was about to say was a blatant lie. “I mean if she was important to you, I would have given her a chance,” Sam tried again but was just met with a tilt of Tara’s head, giving her a knowing look. “Okay fine,” Sam sighed, slumping further into her chair. She really hated how well Tara knew her sometimes. She also had to begrudgingly admit that if Tara knew her so well, knowing how she’d react then, maybe she really was being just a tad bit overprotective. “I would have tried giving her a chance.” Tara raised both her eyebrows. Sam couldn’t help but roll her eyes, of course Tara didn’t believe that either. “Eventually,” she finally mumbled. “Maybe.”

Sam crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair, frowning. Sam had to think about it, if Tara had met you, gone on a few dates, then introduced you to Sam, well Sam wouldn’t have reacted well. Sam hated to admit it, she wouldn’t do it to intentionally hurt her sister, she would have done it in the name of protecting her, but she definitely would have tried to scare you away. Maybe Tara keeping you a secret was the best decision. Sam had to admit the only reason she was seeing reason at the moment was because you had been attacked by Ghostface, meaning you most likely weren’t a psycho killer.

“I know you mean well,” Tara said, breaking Sam out of her pouting. When Sam looked up, she saw Tara smiling, it had been the first time she had seen her sister smile all night. “You know I love you.” That got Sam to give her a small smile, despite her overprotective nature Tara still loved her. “I just liked having something for myself,” Tara whispered, her smile once again falling. “Someone who was all mine,” she looked back to you. “Someone not touched by all our darkness, until now,” she sniffled again.

Sam frowned at her sisters’ words. She hated this, hated how her sister was suffering all because of Sam, all because her father was a serial killer. “This isn’t your fault,” Sam said, leaning forward again, resting a comforting hand on Tara’s shoulder.

“If she never met me, he never would have gone after her,” Tara tried to argue, not wanting to hear she wasn’t to blame.

“That’s not true.” Sam refused to let her sister blame herself for this. It wasn’t her fault; she wouldn’t let Tara drown herself in guilt for something that wasn’t her fault.

“Yes, it is!” Tara sobbed.

“You can’t live your life controlled by fear about what might happen.” Sam knew she sounded like a hypocrite even before Tara turned to her, looking at her like she was insane. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Tara’s face. “I know how that sounds coming from me, but I don’t want you sacrificing your chance at happiness just because I’m paranoid.” Sam never thought she’d say those words, but she knew they were true.

Tara turned back to you, gently brushing some hair out of your eyes. “I thought I lost her,” she whispered.

“Good thing your girlfriend is one hell of a fighter,” Sam smirked, giving Tara a playful shove. Tara glanced back at her with a small smile. “I know this isn’t exactly how you wanted it to go, so when you decide to officially introduce us, I can’t wait to meet her.” Sam truly couldn’t wait to meet you, to meet someone who not only held their own against Ghostface without any prior knowledge or dealings with him, but also someone who would willingly deal with her sister.

“She can’t wait to meet you either, I’ve told her all about you,” Tara admitted, a small blush appearing on her cheeks. Sam’s eyes widened; she wasn’t sure why learning that Tara told you about her was such a surprise. “When we were talking on the phone before-” Tara swallowed, Sam just waited, allowing her sister to take the time she needed. “She-she was worried you might tase her when you met,” Tara lightly chuckled when she said that.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh along with Tara. She wanted to deny it, that there was no way she ever would have tased you, but she knew the truth, she would have had her hand on the taser the second you walked through the door. She would have watched every movement you made and the moment you did something suspicious she would have tased you, even if it turned out you were just reaching for the bottle of ketchup.

“Well, no need to worry about that anymore. At least we know she’s not Ghostface,” Sam joked.

“I want to make him pay,” Tara said through gritted teeth. Sam noticed the way Tara’s jaw was clenched, she had never seen Tara this angry before, not even after everything that happened in Woodsboro, not even after learning Amber betrayed her.

“We will,” Sam said. She knew she probably shouldn’t condone Tara’s desire for revenge, but she understood what it was like. When she got the call Tara had been attacked, she just wanted to find the person and then when she learned Richie was part of the attack and he betrayed her she just wanted to make him pay.

After arguing with Tara for over an hour about going home Tara finally agreed Sam could stay at the hospital. Sam knew there was no convincing Tara to come home, but Tara really put up a fight when Sam decided she would stay as well. She wandered off back down to the waiting room to inform the others of your status and tell them that Tara would be staying with you until you woke up and that Sam wasn’t leaving her side. The others had nodded, expecting nothing less, each of them gave Sam a hug before leaving.

Sam had gone back up to the room and it was barely an hour later when she got a text from Chad saying they were back. She wandered back downstairs to see their friends' holding bags with a change of clothes for her and Tara. She smiled, thanking them, and pulled each of them into another hug. She then ordered them to go back to her apartment or choose one of their dorms and hold up there, lock the doors and not leave until they heard from her or Tara directly.

When Sam got back up to the room again, it was late. Tara was curled up in her chair in the most uncomfortable looking position, but she had a peaceful smile on her face as she gripped your hand. Sam smiled at the sight. She sat the bags of clothes on a table and moved to the opposite side of the room. She moved the two chairs together to make a little bed so she could prop up her feet and placed her jacket against the wall as a little pillow.

Sam slowly opened her eyes, hearing some shuffling. She looked around confused, it was still the middle of the night. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she finally heard your voice. She quietly sat up in the chair, stretching, trying to disturb you and Tara as little as possible.

“I needed to make sure you were okay,” Tara said, already wide awake and at the edge of your bed.

Sam quickly and as quietly as possible moved to the door. She figured the least she could do was give you and Tara some privacy. Right before she closed the door, she heard you say, “You-you need to get out of town.” Sam’s eyes widened as the door quietly clicked shut. You had just woken up from a Ghostface attack, an attack that left you almost dead and the first thing you were worried about when you woke up was Tara’s safety.

Same waited right outside your hospital room, she moved to lean against the wall on the other side so she could keep visual of the door but also out of the way enough so hopefully you and Tara wouldn’t see her. She sent off a text in the group chat telling them you had woken up. Despite how late it was, Anika once again was the first to respond in less than a minute. She said they were on the way, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer, even if they couldn’t see you yet they’d sleep in the waiting room. Sam smiled to herself, she wasn’t sure Chad or Mindy were even awake yet and knew of this information, but she knew there would be no arguing with Anika, she would have them out the door and in a cab in less than five minutes.

Sam sighed, watching through the window as Tara and you talked, with Tara gently running her hands through your hair. Sam smiled at the sight. She couldn’t wait until Tara officially introduced you to her. Sam had a feeling she was going to like you. You put up a fight against Ghostface, you cared about Tara more than your own safety it seemed, and Anika really cared for you, yeah Sam was certain she’d like you. Sam wouldn’t tell Tara that though, no, Tara deserved to be a little stressed after she kept you a secret for so long and lied to Sam.

Taglist: @bigbadsofty07 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #this isn't your fault

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aestheticaltcow · 4 months

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Last Updated: 06/09/2024

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

Social Media Manager: The Series

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

The Carmy Blurb Playlist

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

A Different Point of View

Natalie Berzatto's POV on the events of Season 1

Cigarettes Multiverse (3 Parts)

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

Six Months (5 parts)

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

Three-Three-Three

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

You're un-beet-liveable

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

Is this what you were looking for?

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

The Playdate

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

Lockdowns & Ladyfingers

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

Our Life

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

Love Story

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

Sorry?

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

Cooking Class

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader "Six Months" universe spin-off sorta... Sugar actions off a cooking class hosted by our favorite little chef,. Carmy is a sexy man here's his response to some unwanted flirtation.

That Poster Trend

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader With Carmy's 30th birthday fast approaching, you were struggling to figure out the perfect gift for him—at least until you were reminded of that TikTok beer poster trend.

#aestheticaltcow #aestheticaltcow masterlist #the bear fan fiction

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girlystories · 8 months

Text

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: refrences of past child abuse Words: 4.1k

next chapter here

Chapter 1: Back to Derry

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 slowed down as it stopped at a gas station. The driver's door opened, which caused [Name] to wake up. She raised her head, which was earlier rested on her palm. She blinked her eyes, trying to make out what her father was saying to her.

"I said, do you want me to get you anything?", he repeated, his hand on the door as he slouched and his head under the car, waiting for her answer.

"Uh," she slurred her words, yawning as she stretched her arms, a satisfying feeling passing through her body to wake her up while the sun was making it difficult for her to think of what to say. "Just some water please."

Her father gave her a thumbsup before turning around.

"On second thought, I'm kinda hungry. Can I have a sandwich?", she called out from the rolled down window.

Her father made his way inside, as [Name] shifted in her seat, her arms laying comfortable under her head. She sighed as she stared out the window, not focusing on anything in particular, yet caughting a glimpse of a man filling his car.

She and her father we're making their way to Derry, Maine, back to their relatives. Despite feeling excited to see her cousin again, she didn't really approve on moving so suddenly. She would miss her friends, her school – heck, even the grumpy teachers and lousy neighbours.

There was no way of changing her dad's mind, however, since he was so eager to start a new life. She couldn't blame him, though. She and the poor guy couldn't handle the decrease in her mother's sanity any longer. She only grew worse day by day, and it was final once she laid hands on her. Her eyes were unrecognizable, wide and furiously red, as she had her fingers wrapped around [Name]'s throat, squeezing it tight with demise.

Luckily, she was shoved back and restrained by her father, who later called the police on her and she was taken into court when found out she was abusing drugs, finally filling a divorce and in the end she was send to an asylum.

This made [Name] wonder if that woman even loved her in the first place. As she thought about it more overtime, she recalled the times her mother gave her the cold shoulder, or the nasty remarks she hissed – tasting like venom on her tensed dry lips. The glaring looks she gave her, feeling like piercing needles ready to strike.

[Name] instantly wiped some tears that were forming on her eyes, placing a smile on her face as her dad made his way back, bringing with him the stuff he bought.

He closed the door as he sat on the driver's seat, holding the bag for [Name] to take. "As you ordered, madam. Sandwich and a bottle of water," he teased.

She chuckled. "Oh, why thank you, kind sir," she said before taking a big bite of the chicken sandwich. "Man, I'm so hungry."

"Well, you should've prepared some food from home for the ride," he said, taking a cigarette out of his new pack, placing it on his lips, and turning the engine back on – which roared back alive, going backwards and on the road back to Derry. "I told you in the morning but you ignored me."

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for bickering at the moment, instead changing the question. "So like, you gonna be working as a cop at Derry now?"

"Policeman, not a cop, [Name]. And yes, I've taken care of it on the phone," his eyes were focused on the road, taking a turn. "A guy of mine was kind enough to brag about my services back home."

[Name] hummed, not particularly interested in listening to the conversation, instead taking a moment to appreciate her hunger decreasing, savoring the chicken in contrast with the sauce and the variety of spices.

She looked out the window, trees passing as they were now driving through the dirt road. The wind blew through her hair, a breeze filling the car.

Her father remained silent for a moment and he sighed. "Listen, sweetheart, I know it's hard for you moving away and all but I'm sure you'll have a great time there and settle down nicely," he smiled as he recalled memories of his hometown. "Besides, you'll catch up with little Richie again."

"Well, I'm sure he's not little anymore. How many years has it been? Like five, six?", she tried to count, licking her fingers in doing so. "How old is that little prick now anyway?"

"[Name], watch your language please," her father said and she giggled in response. "I think he's about thirteen or twelve. Three years younger than you."

"I'm sixteen, dad."

"Thirteen then."

"Oh my god, dad. Did you really not remember the age of your own daughter?"

He lifted his fingers holding the lighted cigarette off the wheel in defense. "No, I didn't forget your age, honey. I'm just, really tired at the moment."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it."

"Whatever you say can't save you now, dad."

He chuckled. "Really now?"

"Yes," she replied blankly, now finishing her sandwich.

Finally arriving, she took out one of her earplugs and pausing her music, raised her head to look around her new "home". Crippled narrow roads filled with puddles, with short trees that looked hardly standing by the constant floods and hurricanes. She almost cringed at the almost rundown looking buildings.

What eased her nerves were the stores here and there, them being: Brew & Chew Café, Doughy Delights Pizzeria, and Smile N’ Delight. Her eyes also caught a glimpse of the arcade, and she was sure Richie would probably spend his time there, playing aimlessly like his life depended on it. Not like she planned on going there, but still. It proved the existence that people lived there and it wasn't as deserted as it seemed.

"Are we there?"

"Sure are," he answered, searching for his sisters house. He smiled, "nothing has changed a bit."

"We haven't been gone that much for anything to change. I mean who even comes here anymore?"

Her father ignored her remark, taking a turn and slowing down as they reached that all familiar house [Name] hang out to when she was younger. They came to a stop and he got out of the car, while [Name] did the same, yet not so eager.

"Wentworth! How long has it been?", her father said as the front door opened, her uncle grabbing his palm and patting him on the back.

"You tell me," her uncle replied. "You were the one who decided to move out."

He chuckled. "Well, [Mother Name] wouldn't stop pressuring me and all. You know how she was."

This made [Name]'s aunt's smile fade, feeling somehow remorseful. "Ah, I'm so sorry about that, [Father Name]... We couldn't believe it when you told us all about it on the phone," her eyes looked at [Name], making her smile widely, her eyes wrinkling at the sides as they widened. She exclaimed and she walked over to her with raised arms, squeezing her cheeks which made [Name] groan slightly. Yet she didn't mind it much, always appreciating her aunt's weird ways of affection.

"Little [Name]! Ah, I can't believe how much you've grown. You're basically a lady now!", she noted, placing her palms on her shoulders and taking a better look at her, taking her time to "fix" her shirt and hair.

[Name] chuckled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. "Hey, missed you too, Aunt Maggie. Uh, is Richie home?"

"Oh, yes," she turned around, "Richie, get your ass here!"

After a few annoyed grumbles, a boy with dark hair came down the stairs. [Name] noted his increase in height and glasses who seemed to be thicker than how she remembered, making his eyes appear way bigger. He still had a couple of freckles drawn on his slighty chubby cheeks – even though he had a relatively slim figure. She threw an arm over his shoulder, snickering at his annoyance and trying to get off her hold.

"How's my little blabbermouth been?", she remarked and forced him into a hug. He groaned in response, mostly by the nickname but returning the hug happily.

"You haven't changed a bit, asswipe," he replied with the same tone. Still, his grip tightened around her. "You were still missed, though. As much as I hate to admit it."

That made her smile, and she let go of him, "Aw," she cooed. "I'm flattered, but it's very much expected," she replied proudly.

"Ha ha," Richie stated, his tone linked full of sarcasm. "Just make sure you stay this time," he scoffed, "I remember when you had to leave last time you were crying your eyes out. Your nose was full of snot and stuff. Gross."

[Name] narrowed her eyes, raising her brow. "That's not true. I don't ever recall that happening."

"Well, I do," he rolled his wide eyes behind his thick square glasses, smirking. "Right, mom?"

"Huh? What did you say, sweetie?", she asked, not listening to him in the slightest, too absorbed in the conversation with her husband and brother.

"Nevermind," Richie rumbled. "Say, you wanna join me and my friends? Oh – I forgot to mention – remember Bill? Well, we are now in a group with two other guys and we call ourselves The Losers Club, and it's freaking awesome!"

[Name] couldn't help but laugh. "The Losers Club? That sounds... pretty lame."

"That's the point, genius," he rolled his eyes again. "The thing is, you gotta join us, we always have so much fun and stuff."

"Maybe another time, kiddo. I'm pretty tired and I gotta start unpacking and I need get ready for school tomorrow. I've missed enough as it is."

Richie groaned. "Fineee. But you will come with us one day, I'm telling you."

[Name] ruffled his hair. "Okay okay, I get it!"

"Augh! Not the hair, man! Not cool", he tried to push her hand away, but to no avail as she wrapped an arm around his neck and continued in forcefully ruining his curly locks.

The next day [Name] was woken up but her father, completely ignoring her alarm clock at 6:30 am. She groaned and placed a pillow over her head, trying to block out her father's cheery but annoying voice through the kitchen.

She had to get up, though, when her father made his way into her bedroom and forcefully throwing the covers off her – much to her dismay. She raised her upper body, holding her weight with her elbows. Her eyes were puffy and red, a trail of drool beginning from her bottom lip and ending at her chin. A sight Richie would definitely make fun of, but he was in the same spot, as her dad did the same, but instead chose to grab Richie and spin him around, just like the way parents played with their month-old babies.

Richie – fully confused, and instead of cheering like a baby would – almost shrieked, his legs swaying back and forth, looking for a sturdy ground to balance himself and his arms trying to get a tight grip on his uncle. Without wearing his glasses, he wasn't able to see clearly, screaming: "What the hell is going on?!"

[Name]'s dad, not reducing his speed in the slightest, continued, "Wake up, big guy! You're gonna miss school!"

Richie, steadying his breath, replied, "Okay okay, I get it! Just get me down! For the love of—"

Just as he requested, his uncle complied, a satisfied smile on his features. He slapped his nephew's back lightly. "Come to the kitchen quick. I've prepared breakfast."

[Name] still in her bed – but not daring to lay back down, (in fear of her dad shaking her awake again) stared blankly at the wall, ignoring the commotion from Richie's room completely. She rubbed her half closed eyes, and dragged herself out of bed, choosing a simple and convenient outfit for the day, since her stuff and wardrobe hadn't been delivered in their new home fully yet. She grabbed her almost empty backpack, which contained only her pencil case and a couple of notebooks, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen, dropping on her seat feeling like a zombie. She tried to rest her heavy head on her palm, yet it fell on the table sharply.

"Ah ah," her father scolded. "Wake up, sweetie. It's your first day today."

She groaned in response.

"I'll give you a ride to school, so eat quick. I have work to get to," he explained further, flipping an egg from the pan.

"I'm sorry but how can you be so excited so early in the morning, uncle? I mean, no offense," Richie asked from the table, rubbing his glasses with his shirt. He turned to [Name], "is he always like this?"

She grabbed a toast from the table, which was applied with butter smoothly, and took a bite, her eyes still half closed. "Yes."

"Damn."

After a quick – and not so satisfying breakfast, Mr. [Last Name] gave the both a ride and went to work. For the first time Richie wasn't late. A rare occurance, mainly because he took ages to get ready but also because both his parents weren't able to drive him to school because of work.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, asswipe," Richie held up his palm for a high-five. [Name] looked at him unfazed, almost rolling her eyes, clearly not in the mood so early in the morning. Still, she didn't leave him hanging and groaned under her breath.

"Remember, don't steal food from the cafeteria."

"Don't you mean, don't do drugs – or something?"

[Name] walked pass him, pushing her body on the school's front entrance. "Whate—", before she could finish, she felt a heavy force colliding against her. She yelped in response, being shoved backwards.

The person groaned in annoyance, also surprised by the sudden force. "What the fu—", the voice suddenly paused. [Name] took a moment to study the person. He was tall, his blonde hair messily styled in a mullet. His blue eyes were staring back at her, also studying her. His seemengly muscular built wasn't as apparent under his t-shirt which was being covered under his denim jacket, his sleeves being pushed high above his elbows. It was more of a fashion choice than an affect to keep warm in the cold weather of October.

She didn't know how long they kept eye contact, but it came to a stop as his features furrowed, pursing his lips. He shoved pass her, his shoulder bumping into hers while he mumbled under his breath: "Get outta my way."

She scoffed in response, raising a brow and walking into the halls, Richie following quickly behind her. "Oh my god," he gasped.

"What?", she questioned, looking around for the principal's office.

"You just ran into Henry Bowers!", he explained.

"I didn't ran into him. More like he bumped into me."

He quickly shook his head. "That's not the point, dumbass," he walked in front of her, making her stop in her tracks to get her attention. "The point is that he and his lovely little friends have been making our lives hell for how many years now. I'm honestly surprised he didn't murder you just now."

"He what?", [Name] asked, her eyes finally widening since this morning.

"Yeah," Richie said, beginning to walk again with her by his side, passing the other students in the halls as they chatted among themselves. "They're all complete psychos."

"How did you say his name was? Henry Bowers, was it?", she asked and slowed down when she noticed the principal's office in the corner. "Where have I heard of it before?"

"Man, I don't know. But I'm telling you. Just don't make him mad. Ever."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it, big guy," she said, shifting her backpack as the school bell rang. She made herself a new goal for the year.

Richie raised a brow. "What do you mean? I don't like that look," he noted.

"Just, go to class, okay? I'll see you guys later," she shoved him softly, and he stumbled a bit, glancing back at her with a bit of worry, but made his way to class.

She didn't know how and why that guy seemed so familiar to her, but she didn't care either. No one is allowed to make fun of her cousin. No one. Except maybe her, but they were family. It's understandable. But him? Who did he think he is?

She decided to keep an eye on him and his stupid mullet.

[Name] was about to knock the open door but stopped when she saw a lanky guy staring at the principal blankly, his mind wandering off and not paying the slightest attention to him. The principal sighed, his hand waved towards the door, dismissing him as he finished, "that's about it. If you and Bowers get send here one more time, I'll have to take drasting measures. You'll get a pass this time. Mainly because it's your first time, Hockstetter. Now get your ass to class."

The guy in question – Hockstetter, as he was mentioned – fixed his posture at the statement, the corners of his mouth forming into a smile. He left without question, his grey-green eyes meeting [Name]'s as he walked pass the door, twinkling with curiosity. She swore she saw him lick his bottom lip just as he left.

"And make sure Bowers actually goes to class this time!", the principal shouted and [Name] wondered if his orders even reached the guy's ears.

So this guy is one Richie's bullies, [Name] noted.

She decided to keep that in mind later as she walked inside. The principal held the bridge of his nose, sighing. When he noticed her, he grasped his hands together as he tried to recall her name. He remained with only parted lips as he failed in figuring out who she was.

"Hello, Mr – uh," she trailed off, trying to remember his name that her dad mentioned on the ride. "Mr. Corbin, I'm the new student. I think my father spoke to you on the phone."

His features softened, bringing a hand on his grey and combed hair. "Ah, yes! Mr. [Last Name], I believe. Yes, I've got your schedule prepared right here," he said, rolling back with his chair and opening his drawer, taking out a paper and handing it to [Name]. "It was pretty much a hassle trying to sort your lessons, since you arrived a bit later, but eventually we managed."

She whispered a soft "Sorry" in response.

"How very nice for us to welcome a new student. I hope you like it here. Ah, did you move here recently, miss [Last Name]?"

She quickly skimmed over her schedule, and looked back at Mr. Corbin. "Yes. Yesterday actually."

"I see," he replied, fixing his mustache. "Well, I hope you settle down nicely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to finish," he rolled on his chair forward, placing his hands together once again. "If you need any help, don't be afraid to come to my office."

[Name] smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Mr. Corbin," she said and walked out, looking over her schedule. She hummed, feeling not so glum about it, only groaning when she saw she had to chose an extracurricular, but also hoping there were good options to chose from at the very least. She noticed a note, written roughly with a pen; locker: 74.

She made her own inner note to check it out later.

Now, she hurried herself to her first period, being World History. It took her while to find the class, and she was sure she'd get some nagging from the teacher. She hesitantly knocked on the door and slowly opened it. Peeking over the gap, she noticed all the students attention being on her. She stepped inside, clearing her throat.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr –", she looked at her schedule, "Mr. Okley."

Mr. Okley stopped writing on the board, turning his focus on her. "It's okay, I suppose," his voice indicated his boredom which were proved by his uninterested expression. "You're the new student, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes, my name is [Name] [Last Name]."

His face brightened, his blank expression being replaced by a small smile. "Ah, [Last Name]? I know your father. We used to be classmates together. Really funny fellow, I tell you," he chuckled. "Make sure to tell him I say hi, alright?"

[Name] smiled, trying to ignore people's stares. "I will."

"We're on page forty-three. You can take a seat over there," he pointed at an empty seat next to the window.

"I don't have a book."

"Right," he hummed, looking around his desk for a spare book. "I can't seem to find one right now. Just sit next to Victor for now and come by my office later."

The guy in question raised his head from his palm, being shaken out of his thoughts. [Name] dragged a chair and sat next to him, who scooted to the side to make some some space for the both.

She held her hands close, feeling awkward by the closeness between them. But she tried her best to ignore it, taking notes when she thought was necessary.

As she wrote, her pall pen started leaving less and less ink. She pressed harder, but the pen refused to work, as if it suddenly decided to go against her.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath. She turned to Victor, who had his undoubted attention on Mr. Okley who explained about the Rise of Rome.

"Do you have an extra pen?"

His attention was disturbed again. He shifted in his seat, blinking like he was just woken up. "Oh, yeah," he searched his bag and held one for her.

"Thanks," she took it, smiling warmly at him.

"So, why the sudden change or schools?", he asked.

"Oh, you know. The usual reasons," she wrote on her notebook, testing if it worked. It was an obvious attempt of her deflecting the question.

Victor didn't attemt to pressure her in saying anymore, turning his attention back at the lesson.

The bell rang indicating the end of the lesson. All the students gathered their things, chatting among themselves as they made their way outside.

Just as [Name] was about to do the same Mr. Okley called her.

"Wait here for a moment, I'll go and fetch your book, alright?"

With that she waited, watching the classroom becoming less and less crowded. Her mind started wondering along, when she was being shoved forward. Her shoulder bumping with an all too familiar muscular one, snickering as he made his way towards Victor. Two others followed, passing her like she was nonexistent.

Her face soured.

Henry and Hockstetter loud vocals filled the room, shooting at Victor about who knows what. [Name] was unable to identify the other figure. He was the most noticeable large one of the group.

With the realization that Victor was in their little group, it made the girl's disappointment more visible.

Mr. Okley came back, holding a thick book. "This is it," he opened it, flipping through the pages. "We've covered all of these. Make sure to study them until next week. We'll be having an exam on Monday."

She scrunched her nose, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Now now, it's not too much," he chuckled at her reaction. "It has very vague information and it's pretty easy to grasp. I'm sure you can do it."

She wasn't convinced and he continued. "If it's too much for you, then I'll guess I could give you an extra week."

"Really?"

He winked. "Just don't tell anyone," he waved his hands. "Now, run along!"

She chuckled and scooted over the door, but stopped when she remembered something. She glanced over at her classmate by the window, being surrounded by the mullet asshole and the creepy lanky guy – and the guy she couldn't recognize. He was frowning at his friends, telling them to "shut up" while they joked around.

She sighed under her breath and turned her heel, walking over to him. She looked to the ground, avoiding their gazes as she came closer.

"You, uh, forgot your pen," she held it out for him, only locking eyes with his as he stopped his bickering. Their laughs also came to a stop, observing her from head to toe.

He took it, and before he could answer she swung around, storming out of the classroom. Her chest was bounding and her breath was shaky.

She meet the Bower Gang on her first day and managed to survive.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🌸]#it x reader #it fanfiction #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader

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galaxysgal · 6 months

Note

hi! i'd like to ask prompt 🍽 ─ prepare the christmas dinner together with single dad!carmy x younger reader (maybe in her mid 20s idk)

thank you <33 i love your writing

michellin star on the tree || carmen berzatto

pairing: single dad carmy x younger reader

warnings: literally none. not even a swear.

a/n: this is so so cute and i love carmy sm oh my god. implying that the reader is in grad school so like early/mid twenties.

heavy snowfall and harsh winds have shrouded the city of chicago in a gentle silence. you collect the extra plates that had been for sydney, natalie, richie and the rest and with one strong arm around bella, you lift the plates back into their place in the china cabinet.

the smells from the kitchen are delightful. ham, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes with gravy, all of it is so enticing. carmen's been in the kitchen all afternoon, cooking up a storm while you and bella had played in the snow until it got too thick and too cold for you both.

now you're safe and sound inside. after you'd changed bella into dry clothes and while you showered, the snow had continued to fall harder and harder. by the time you were done, skin dewy and hair pleated into neat braids, there was a severe weather advisory in place. just like that, your turn to host christmas dinner was effectively canceled.

bella had cried at first, of course, because what's christmas to a four-year-old without family and gifts? but you'd managed to calm her down with a cup of warm cocoa and a call to sydney, who promised to come by and play as soon as the weather allowed her.

bella says your name softly, tugging at your sleeve as you search the kitchen for flashlights and batteries. "whats up kiddo?" you ask.

"'m hungry," she whines, and you chuckle in response.

you're about to tell her the food's almost done, until carmy's taking his daughter right from your arms. "you're always hungry," he says, sitting her on the counter and tickling her tummy.

"daddy!" bella shreiks, kicking her little feet in self defense. "that tickles!"

"gotta tickle all the hungry outta ya, kid," carmy tells her.

you stand there looking on at the two of them. carmen, and his little angel. he's such a good dad to bella. it warms your heart to see him like this, all giggly and warm, loving in the most pure sense of the word.

when the giggles have subsided and bella's wiggled off the counter, carmy pulls you to his side. you rest your head against his, leaning on him and looking over the assortment of food he's prepared.

"i'm sorry you did all this for nothing," you tell him.

and of course he just shakes his head, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. "not f'nothing, baby, for you. you work so hard at school, thought the least i could do for my little phd candidate was cook this big ol' christmas dinner."

"for me?" you ask softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"all f'you, sweetheart. you an' bella, my girls." he hugs you tighter, pulling you so that your chest is against his own. "you're so good to us both. this is my way of sayin' thank you."

end.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #mags writes #mags' winter sleepover #mags' winter sleepover: fics #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #fx the bear

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etfrin · 8 months

Note

god okayokay

reader is dewey and gale's daughter and apart of the "core 5" (reader, mindy, chad, tara and sam) and dated amber freeman in the past. though has severe ptsd from what had happened a year ago (and the fact that reader saw her dad die and almost died with him, if it wasnt for the fact that they managed to stable her) and reader killed amber to avenge her father thinking by killing amber brutally would make up for dewey. thought if she hunted down her father's killer, she'd feel better.

present time, she's living with chad and ethan in their dorm. her and ethan are in a relatively healthy relationship, but she never opened up about amber or what exactly happened back in woodsboro because she wasnt ready. in fact, he never even seen her without a shirt on (because of the scars from amber and richie), but once he walked in at the wrong time while she was changing in complete accident (since they share a room) and he apologizes PROFUSELY but he cant help but stare. hes not even disgusted hes just kind of mesmerized by her. she gets insecure abt them and he lays her down and asks her abt them, how she got them. some scars were actually from stupid little things like slipping on a skateboard while carrying around a knife in a sheath that wasnt secured all the way so reader started carrying around switchblades after that (which she used to kill amber.) but he cant help but kiss them and tell her abt how beautiful she looks with them. so im just saying switch virgin! ethan and switch experienced reader (lost her v card to quinn first staying there but its a brief thing and isnt mentioned after that) just really soft sex between the two, ethan being a caring bf and after, realizes hes fucked up because hes genuinely fallen heads over heels for the girl he should hate. he knows he cant kill her, so now he doesnt know whats more important; avenging richie or being with the one he loves. choosing between his family, or choosing a life he wouldn't have with anyone else with someone that he loves more than life itself.

may had of gone overboard but im in love w this whole idea

↳❝Scars | Ethan Landry❞ˎˊ-

Warning - NSFW | p in v sex, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), loss of virginity (Ethan), mentions of murder, scars and Ghostfaces. | lmk if I forgot anything!

| masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune

A/N: okay so this was supposed to be a drabble then it was suddenly 1.6k words (don't ask me what happened), I hope whichever one of you requested this likes it, I TRIED I PROMISE and here's the link to request!

virgin! Ethan Landry x female! Reader

Ethan didn't ask about the scars for a week.

He didn't act any different despite seeing the ugly healed-up wounds all over your skin. Despite some of them being from playing around, most were from your fight with the Ghostfaces.

You thought he would be disgusted when he first saw them, the one second before he had closed his eyes, but there was no visible disgust on his face. Only concern.

And he had apologized so much that you practically pitied him.

Even now that you were on his lap, your lips tangled with his in a heated kiss. His hand on your nape, another hand on your hip. He hadn't ventured far yet, being as respectful as he could be.

All the while you felt yourself getting needy for his touch. After another heated kiss, you pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips. Ethan's face was flushed with a crimson red, breathless from the kiss.

The hand on your hip went near the hem of your shirt and you felt yourself tense. "Can I?" He asked softly. You give him a nod, anticipating this time, he would feel disgusted. That he would leave you heartbroken.

He took off the shirt, his breath caught in his chest as your scars came into view.

The gashes were all over your skin. White healed tissue tinged with pink. "How?" He lets out a choked whisper. "Would you mind telling me how?" He said, again, his eyes looking into your so tenderly with no hint of disdain.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod and begin to tell your story, everything from your father dying and you killing Amber to get revenge, for the wounds you got from the fight. Everything.

"I know they aren't the prettiest to look at," you whispered, "I know I understand if you don't want to stay with m-" "Don't even finish that sentence," Ethan interrupted.

"Don't," he said in a firm tone, making you look up at him. His eyes were filled with tears even if they didn't fall, he pulled you in for a hug. "You went through so much," he whispered, his voice filled with emotions, filled with care and love.

"Let me take care of you, they're not pretty but they're a part of you and I love these scars just as much as I love you." He said you felt yourself nearly getting to tears as well from his words but held yourself back.

"Okay," you whispered, "Take care of me."

And that's how you end up under him, bare for his lips to kiss all over your scarred skin. You let out encouraging purrs as his kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone. A small cut was there due to negligence while handling knives. He licked the edges of the scar. You sighed as he continued to worship your body.

He finally reached your torso, and a huge gash was there. He had stopped kissing your skin now, staring at the pinkish tissue that was a huge contrast against your skin.

'Now,' you thought to yourself, 'He's gonna realize that you're just not worth it, not with all the baggage and the scars on your skin that come with it.'

"I wish I could kill them," he whispered, his lips brushing against the scar. His words made you melt because it was tinged with truth. There was no doubt in his mind that he would kill them if he had the chance.

He pressed wet kisses onto the scar, making you let out a small sigh. He then crawled on top of you again. His voice was filled with nerves as he whispered, "I have never done this before."

You cup his face with both of your hands and pressed a small kiss on his forehead. "I have," you whispered, you had lost your virginity to Quinn so you were at least aware of what you liked or not.

"I could teach you," you offered, "Figure out what we like or not together." His doe eyes fill with relief and he gives you a smile as an affirmation.

"I would love that," he said, leaning down for another kiss as his hand traveled down to your soaked panties. He lets out a gasp into your mouth as he feels the material cling to your fold.

He panted, "Oh- you're so wet. Is that all for me, darling?" The way he asked made your cunt clench, so breathless and in wonder. "Yeah, E," you whine as his fingers glide on your clothed pussy, the slight friction making you gush out more juices.

"Can I take it off?" he asked, and you nod. He slides down the panties, and throws them on the floor, making a mental note to take it for himself later.

He pressed his fingers to your folds, sliding them across your cunt until the tip of his finger finds your entrance. You let out a small gasp, feeling yourself clench. "Can I?' He whispered, and again you nod. "Go ahead, E," you whispered.

The first digit enters, making him whimper about how tight you are, and how warm your insides feel. Your inner walls pulsate around the single digit.

He pumps the digit in and out before his index finger also joins. A whimper escapes your lips as your pussy stretches to accommodate his digits. "Is it good?" He asked, the nervousness mixed with heat in his tone.

"Perfect," you assure him, "Just crook your fingers a bit and you'll find a spot, focus on that for me, E." He eagerly does what you asked, his fingers finding your G-spot and pressing into it every time he thrusts his digits inside.

You moan, your hips bucking into his touch. Getting a bit more confidence from your pleasurable sounds, Ethan goes even faster. Your walls begin to pulse with the familiar need to snap the tension that was building but you didn't wanna cum so soon.

"Stop," you whispered and Ethan pulled back immediately with a questioning gaze. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked, concerned, "Did I hurt you? I am sorry."

You chuckled, "Nothing like that, my love. I was close…" You bite your lip, hesitating about saying the words that you knew would sound crude, "Wanna cum on your cock for the first time."

His eyes widened at your request. He nods obediently, pulling off his shirt with one hand and taking off his belt so he can slip out from the rest of his clothes.

His cock looked painfully hard with his cockslit leaking pre-cum all over his length. He stroked his cock to elevate some of his own needs.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he whispered, as he slotted his girth near your entrance. His cockhead getting coated into your slick. You shake your head, "I want it, Ethan. So much."

He gives you a nod. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he slowly slides into your warmth. Inch by inch, his cock stretches out your pussy, your inner walls molding into the shape of his length. He lets out whines as his veins sizzle with pleasure.

You felt his dick pulse and twitch as he whined, "Gonna cum. Gonna cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your hand goes to his hair to harshly tug at the brown curls. Effectively distracting him from the overwhelming pleasure. "Sushh, baby," you whispered, "It's okay. It's okay." He groans, "Babe…" You hum in reassurance. You make your pussy clench around his dick. Your walls squeezing his cock so suddenly makes his hips jerk into you, his cockhead grazing your g-spot.

You moan near his ear. "Like that," you whispered, "Take care of me."

It took him a few more moments to get used to the vice grip on his cock, the wetness, and the warmth before he began shallowly thrust into you.

He pressed kisses all over your neck, your throat, your breasts. Marking the places near your scars so you can remember this night. Both of you let out noises of pleasure.

He begins to thrust deeper than before as your nails dig into his back and he gets faster as well. Humping into you now, his mind getting lost in the sensation of your velvet heat.

"Am I doing all right?" He whines as his hips keep meeting yours. "Perfect," you moan in reply. His hips begin to snap faster, his thrusts deeper than before, filling you up. You moan louder as you keep getting filled with his cock. Your pussy begins to spasm around his length as the heat fills your tummy.

You were getting close with each snap of his hips. "You getting close, baby?" He moans, his lips now brushing against yours. "Cum on my dick, please, babe!" He begs, as he gets more desperate, his thrusts getting sloppy and losing their consistent pace.

Your free hand goes down to your folds to find your clit. Your thumb rubs fast circles onto the bud. You felt the telltale signs of your climax. Your stomach is coiling, just waiting to explode.

"Please, cum on my cock," Ethan whines again, his lips crashing with yours in a filthy open-mouth kiss. That snapped the tension your body was holding, you moaned into his mouth as your pussy began to squeeze his cock repeatedly. Your cunt milking his cock for all its worth. As soon as he feels your inner walls spasm and contract with a shallow thrust, he begins to cum.

He pants as his cum leaks out, too fucked out to pull out. You were both tired. Both emotionally and physically drained, it doesn't take long for you to sleep.

Ethan lays awake though, feeling the heat of your body beside him. Hearing you breath. He closed his eyes, and an image was in front. In which you're dead and cold.

He couldn't have that. He can't kill you anymore. Not after this. Not after promising forever with you, not after marking you and kissing your every scar.

He would have to choose in the future and he would choose you.

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