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queers-gambit · 4 months

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Opening Night and Open Hearts

prompt: opening night - a mother's fear, a locked walk-in freezer, confessions through a thick metal door, questioning what's deserved, and a proposal at The Bear after hours.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 9.8k+

note: i think i give enough background for you guys to feel as if you don't need to read any other relating works, but i linked the fics that could be read as a small series (maybe?) also let author be lonely in peace

warnings: reader nicknamed Peach, established relationship, cursing, spoilers, fluff, angst, relationship angst, hurt and comfort, Carmy still (desperately) needs a nap, depiction of physical illness, boys are dumb and emotions are hard, reader-insert, depiction of toxic family, OC Carmy that grovels a lot, not edited!

⚠️ season two, episode ten spoilers

not necessary to read, but other relating works with Peach:

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant

God's Plan part two: Two to Tango

Neon Sticky Notes

"Hi, yes, I can hear you - sorry about that, I was just making note of your reservation," you spoke smoothly into the phone, trying not to ogle your boyfriend wrapped in only a clean blue towel. "So, that's a party of four for Monsieur Claude Badeaux - all right, that's so lovely. I'm obligated to remind everyone that tonight's opening is a fine dining experience and the proper, corresponding dress code is being asked for. Are there any allergies I should make note of for your party?"

"Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy," you were told.

"All right, that's noted and highlighted: Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy. If there's anything else I could help you with?"

"Non," he chuckled. "I was surprised to see your invitation to this evening, though, mon cher. It's been so long, yes?"

"Well, it was my pleasure to extend the offer, we're ecstatic by your reservation," you chuckled. "We'll see you tonight, Monsieur, and should you need anything before then, you may call this number again."

You said your parting words in French, smiling at Carmy when you hung up and dropped your work phone. "Did I hear that correct?" Your lover asked with a broad grin, "Was that...?"

"Senior marketing advisor at The Washington Post?" You filled in for him. "Uh, yeah, I think it was, but you know me - I could be wrong."

"You invited someone from The Washington Post to the opening tonight?"

"Is that okay?" You asked, standing from the bed after making note in your datebook. "You look kinda - I don't know, shocked?"

"I-I am," he blinked at you, watching you gather his pristine clothing to hang on the closet door. "But in a good way - I can't believe you did this," he chuckled, wiping his mouth. "I mean - holy shit, Peaches."

You offered a toothy grin, "Figured I could pull a few of my own strings to help get the word out about your love-child."

This made Carmy snicker, "Hey, now. Tonight's important, don't make fun."

"I know," you nodded, leading him back into the bathroom to view your hair products. "Which is why I invited some important people and some not-so important people. I know this is serious, Carmy," you smiled at him, hoping to convey your support, "and I wanted to help in whatever way I could."

"You being there tonight is more than I could ask for," he chuckled, helping you onto the small bathroom counter. You squirted a bit of hair product in your hand, watching him flinch back a little, "Uh, I just don't want my hair greasy, Peach, you know? Not a good look and I'll sweat it out in the kitchen."

"I feel like I should be offended by you having no trust in me," you teased, insisting, "I know whatcha need, baby, lemme help."

Carmy smiled softly and held still, letting you run your hands through his curls to push everything back and away from his forehead in a stylish but manageable "do". There was a silent, serene moment as you and Carmy just existed together in a mundane space, his big, sad eyes watching your face as you worked. He wondered, "Think tonight's gonna be okay?"

"I think tonight's gonna be more than okay," you assured softly. "I think tonight's gonna go better than you're anticipating."

He sighed and planted his hands on either side of you, suddenly dropping his gaze. "I, uh... Sugar invited Mom t'tonight..."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Sugar and I are still friends outside of us dating, Carmy," you smiled patiently, slowing your hands so you more toyed with his curls; pushing some strands behind his ears. "She needs someone as much as you do and I don't mind."

"But isn't that what Pete's for?"

"Yes, but you know, Pete's Pete."

Carmy snorted, "Yeah, yeah, good point."

"I don't know if she'll show up tonight, Bear, but whether she does or doesn't, it won't matter - you're not doing this for her. This is for you, Carmy, tonight's about The Bear opening - it's about you and this incredible, amazing thing you've done. Okay?" You caressed both his cheeks in your hands so he could only look at you directly. "If she shows, that's great," you whispered with a soft smile as your thumbs swept the apples of his cheeks, "and if she doesn't, it won't make tonight any less special. That, I can promise."

Carmy's forehead met yours, both pausing to breathe together; peace always a fleeting feeling as of late and being something you both capitalized on. You brought him in closer for an embrace, his face burying in your neck as your arms snaked around his to keep him as close as possible. His arms were tight around your waist, legs spread to accommodate him; both needing the feel of being close before that night's inevitable stressful event.

"Wow, well, don't you look all pretty! Wow, Peach," Pete greeted you when you scurried to the table with your friend in tow. "Oh, hi there!"

"Pete, this is my best friend, Danielle, and Dani, this is Pete, Sugar's husband."

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," your friend greeted, the two instantly chattering as they both just blew past their introductions to instantly compliment one another's clothes. You smirked, knowing they'd get along famously, and looked around the brand new, packed restaurant.

"Hey, there she is, my pretty girl," Richie greeted smoothly, approaching your standing form to slide his hand around your shoulders.

"Hi, Cousin," you beamed, offering him a hug in greeting. "The place looks fantastic - it's so - I mean - just wow, Richie," you complimented. "You guys did such an amazing job. I need to tell Fak, too, this is - you guys should be so proud, it looks incredible. Hardly can believe what it was before this."

"It really is something, huh?" He grinned. "Hey, Pete," he nodded.

"Hey, Richie."

"And you must be the famous, the fabulous Miss Danielle?"

"That's me," your friend grinned. "You're Richie, right? Carmy's cousin who's not really a cousin but is as good as blood?"

"Yes, ma'am, the very same," he nodded with pride. "We've some drinks coming your way in just a moment, but I need to borrow Peach for just one second."

"Why do they call her Peach?" Dani asked, but Richie was leading you away as Pete was heard answering,

"Oh, because she mastered this peach cobbler with Carmy's mom, Donna, and she started the nickname..."

"What's wrong?" You asked softly with a smile as to not give the illusion to others that you were worried. "What can I do to help?"

"No, no, nothing too bad, you were just requested by the Frenchie-French guy."

"Oh, right, that's right, yeah, I can help with that," you sighed gently, smiling as you approached the table. Greeting the two men and women was easy, Richie impressed by your connections in the professional world. Tonight, The Washington Post didn't just dine with them - no, it was also the director of social media for three luxury, designer brands: Jean-Paul.

Yes, the man was so elusive that he just went by Jean-Paul. Fuck a last name!

Either way, it impressed Richie to hear the introductions. The two women were executives in their own companies, names Richie didn't catch because he was busy taking note of the way Mr. Frenchie-French was basically eye fucking you in front of them all.

"Well," Richie smiled stiffly, "tonight's incredibly special for us. In fact, uh, Y/N's boyfriend is the owner and head chef."

"Really?" Frenchie-French perked his brows, shifting his gaze over to you. "You always had a soft spots for chefs, non? For those who were versed in the culinary arts?"

"Well, mostly I appreciated a man in the kitchen simply because I burn water and would probably unintentionally starve myself," you teased easily, deflecting the man's subtle dig. "I'm actually here with family tonight, so, please, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy tonight - I know I'm biased when I say the food is exceptional, but I look forward to your own opinions."

"We will talk later, mon cher, I am sure there will be plenty to discuss," the Frenchman promised, kissing the back of your hand as you let Richie lead you away by your free hand.

You released a long sigh, muttering, "Bring them a bottle of real champagne, please, Richie, I had a few bottles imported just for them. Listen closely," you lowered your voice as you both paused on the side of the dining room, "bring them a bowl of thin sliced strawberries sprinkled in sugar and pop the cork at their table - it's impressive for whatever reason."

Richie pecked your temple and gave you a tight squeeze, "I got it all covered, girly. You all right? Look like you're gonna be sick?"

"Just men being men grosses me out, I guess," you sighed with a small shrug. "He's always had a thing for me, I figured I'd use that to get him here tonight - Carmy's work speaks for itself, but maybe he'd be inclined to publish an article or two for us if I play nice."

Richie paused you a few feet from your table, complimenting, "I hope Carmy knows he doesn't deserve you, Peach."

"You said years ago neither of us did," you smirked gently. "Said I wasn't relationship material, right? Remember?"

"I was wrong," he nodded. "I even said y'all would never be serious, but..." He scoffed to himself, "I've never seen that boy so crazy about anyone in his life. You've really changed him, Peach. I don't really know how to thank you."

"You can start by buttering up those flirty Frenchmen," you teased, giving his cheek a peck.

"On it," he winked, parting from your side.

Inside the kitchen some twenty minutes later, Richie approached Carmy, directing his attention, "Cousin?"

"Yo."

"Peach is on 17 with Pete."

"Okay."

"Go say hi."

"Yeah, eventually," Carmy nodded absently, never halting his work.

"Eventually?" Richie repeated with distain, something in his stomach twisting.

"Where the fuck is Josh!?" Carmy called into the kitchen, another chef echoing his concerns.

"Yo!" Richie barked as calmly as he could, "Just go say hi to your girl, Cousin."

"Yo, I'll go when I have a minute," Carmy deflected strongly. "I'm in the fuckin' shit, leave me the fuck alone."

"What? I'm saying - "

"I'll get there when I can get there!"

"I'm saying!"

"What?" Carmy barked.

"She's got important fucking people in that dining room, man," Richie scoffed, hands held up in defense. "Just for your ungrateful ass! Maybe the least you can do is go say fuckin' hi - even if you're fuckin' busy. She knows that, it'd be a nice gesture - or whatever fuckin' shit - I don't know! She's your girl!"

"Yeah! Exactly!" Carmy barked. "She's my fuckin' girl, she knows the fuckin' drill, I'll go say fuckin' hi when I get the fuckin' chance, Richie! Fuck's sake! Always tryna meddle and shit!"

"Jesus, fuck," Richie sighed, turning out of the kitchen with his hands waving Carmy off in defeat.

You were none the wiser, entertained by Pete and Dani's gabbing as Sugar was in-and-out, dealing with all the little things going wrong. These little things came to her in the form of notes left at the table subtly for her to go solve, you wanting to help but being shot down every time. Eventually, Carmy was approaching your table with a tray of food, shocking you slightly.

"Hey, Peach," He greeted softly, lowering the tray to balance on the table and lean over to kiss your cheek. "You look gorgeous, baby, wow," he complimented in a whisper, offering another quick kiss.

"Thank you, Chef," you smiled brightly, touching his forearm in a sign of affection. "What's all this you've got for us?"

He hummed and explained what he set on the table in front of you guys; eyes alight and cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. He poured whatever sauce came with the main dish, smiling at Dani, nodding to Pete, then looking to you.

"I'll check on you later, all right, baby?" He mumbled, watching you nod. "I gotta get back," he whispered, "but thank you for being here, my pretty girl."

"No where else I'd rather be, Cream," you rushed, letting his lips find yours briefly.

"Stick around after, would you? When we close, just... Don't leave yet."

"Yes, Chef," you whispered against his lips with a grin. He gave one single more kiss before pulling away to stand upright.

"Enjoy," he bid the table before walking away.

"So, like," Dani trailed after making sure Carmy was out of earshot, "when's the wedding? 'Cause that might've been the cutest thing I've seen. I mean, opening night, he's cooking, but paused to come serve us? Serve you? And he's so soft with you, kissin' you, bein' all cute," she pouted dramatically. "I want a reason to wear a maid of honor dress, please."

"Hey, hey, chill on us. There's no wedding," you sighed with a small laugh, trying to play off how the subject made your stomach twist. "We haven't really talked about it, you know? No biggie."

"What?" She sputtered. "Wait, hang on. Y'all have been together - like - a stupid, ridiculous amount of time. The fuck you mean you haven't talked about it? What are y'all doing, just ignoring the elephant in the room?"

You shrugged lightly, "I don't know, we know if we ever got married, it'd be to each other, but that's really it. We know we want to be together, we know we want to marry each other, but there's been no serious conversation about it."

"Uh, does that sound right to you?" Dani asked Pete.

He shook his head as you all took dainty bites of food to savor the flavors (and save Sugar some). "When I knew with Natalie, I didn't hesitate."

"Well, Carmy isn't like you, Pete," you defended. "He's got a lot on his plate, too, you know?"

"You've said that since Mikey," Dani frowned, her voice quiet.

"With good reason, don't you think? Carmy's just - he's just going through a lot right now and it's a challenge, you know?"

"No, it's more like Carmy's got the emotional intelligence of a fucking teaspoon!"

"Hey," you snapped, "that's not his fault, he doesn't know much better, so watch your mouth."

"He does with you, like... He knows better when he's with you, when it comes to you, Peach," Pete offered softly. "Look, maybe Danielle has a point - it is a little weird. I mean, you guys have been together, what? Six, almost seven years? Creeping up on a decade of just dating - that's a long time. And didn't you guys do that weird little half-dating thing for two years before making it official? Don't you think that's enough time to know if you want to marry someone, and then, you know? Actually marry them? Or at least ask them?"

"Sure, maybe to other people, but Carmy and I have never been conventional, so, I don't see why we need to start now."

Danielle scoffed, "Look, God love Carmy and everything, but you're just wasting time now. He needs to either commit or let you find someone who can actually love you like you deserve."

"Oh, and Carmy doesn't?"

"Wasn't all that long ago that you two took a break 'cause he called you clingy - and some other unsavory terms," Danielle shrugged. "Doesn't really sound like someone who loves you unconditionally - the way you should be loved."

You sighed and sat back in your chair, "I appreciate the insight, but Carm and I are fine. Okay? We've got years under our belts, we don't want to fuck up what obviously works for us so chill out on the questions, okay? I don't have answers to them."

Danielle and Pete shared a look before the man got up to excuse himself to the restroom. You and Dani finished your meals before sipping your wine, waiting for Pete, but Dani sighed, "This lady's been staring in here for, like, ten minutes already. It's freezing, doesn't she want to come in?"

"Hmm? What're you - ?"

"This lady on the street," your friend pointed over her shoulder towards the window her back was now turned to.

When you peaked out, you gasped lightly when you saw Donna Berzatto smoking a cigarette. "Oh, shit!" You stood from your seat, rushing, "Okay, so, uh, yeah - just - can you just sit here for a second? I have to go handle that."

"Who is it?" Dani wondered earnestly.

"I got it, Peach," Pete told you, passing by the table swiftly with a hand patting your shoulder to keep you at your table.

"What the hell's happening?" Dani asked. "Who is that?"

"Nothing, no one, it's okay, I think that's someone we know, just, uh, hang on a second? We'll be right back."

"Sure," she nodded in confusion, watching you get from your seat and follow Pete out the door onto the blistering cold sidewalk.

"Hey, Mama Donna," you greeted happily, arms crossing over your chest to protect from the wind. "Have you been inside yet? We saved you a seat and all, but isn't this - just wow?" You grinned, trying to encourage her to say anything about her children's hard work.

"Oh, no, no, not you, too, Peach, why are you here?" She groaned lightly, looking upset and close to tears.

"I'm here 'cause of Carmy? I-It's opening night, yeah?" You offered in confusion. "Why? What's wrong, Mama D?" You worried, glancing at an emotional Pete.

"No, it's just, I can't come in, I can't, just no," she backed away, only now making you notice the way Pete cried. "I'm so sorry, Peach, honey, but I was never here. Okay? I-I'll call them later, I swear, I promise, I'll call them - but I-I-I wasn't here. Okay? You can't tell them I was here. I'm so sorry."

"Donna, don't do this," you begged, head shaking. "Don't, please. Just come in with Pete and I - just sit there for a bit. Just come in and see what your kids have done - Donna, it's so beautiful. You'd be so proud, but you should really see it for yourself - "

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, not tonight, no, I'm sorry, I can't," she deflected in a rambling mumble, turning and hustling down the sidewalk with her head shaking like a Etch-A-Sketch.

You rounded on Pete, "What the hell was that? Pete, what just happened?"

"Um, I-I don't - I didn't mean to."

"Pete? What didn't you mean?"

"She didn't tell her mom about the baby," he rushed, tears falling. "Nat didn't tell Donna, Peach, and I think I just did - I think I just fucked up and told her."

"Oh, no... No, Pete, you didn't."

"I didn't mean to! I swear it was an accident!"

"No, I know you didn't mean to, honey," you rushed, opening your arms to bring him in for a tight hug. "Oh, you poor boy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pete."

He sighed, "I'm sorry, too, Peach."

"For what?"

"That... We fell in love with Berzattos and this is our new normal now, right?" He sniffled.

You half-smiled, "Yeah, something like that. But it's okay. See, where Donna's afraid to give her love, neither of us are. Sugar and Carm deserve that from us, right? To be authentic and just love them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, you're right."

"And that's all we gotta do... Is love them, Pete."

"God knows where else they'd get it," he huffed, wiping his face. "Hey, um, I'll be in, in a second - I just need a minute alone, I think, in the cold."

"Take all the time you need," you agreed.

"We're not - we're not telling them about this, right?"

You sighed, "No, I don't think so - at least right now. It might hurt them more, you know? To know Donna was here, but never came in. That she ran away... Again. It'll hurt, they deserve to be happy about tonight."

Pete nodded rapidly, looking like he was gonna burst into tears. Instead of going back inside, you just moved to Pete's side and stood there; producing a cigarette, lighting it, offering Pete a drag that he turned down, and the both of you just standing silently; one smoking, one crying, both processing.

"Wow, look at these gorgeous ladies! By far the baddest in the whole place! Yeah, man!" Fak teased as he approached you and Danielle after closing the The Bear officially. "What a privilege to have you both dine with us this evening! Ugh, truly an honor to see you both here," he praised comically, evening giving a small bow that his brother mimicked.

Your eyes rolled, "You're laying it on really thick when I already tipped you." He snickered with Theo. "Hey, seriously, though, tonight was incredible. I mean, it was all so beautiful, you should all be so proud."

"Oh, we are," Neil giggled, his brother hanging off his shoulders.

"Good," you teased. "Uh, is now an okay time to go back and see him? Kinda wanna offer my compliments to the chef directly, you know?"

"No," Fak answered instantly, "uh, well, probably not the best time."

"Yeah, probably not," Theodore echoed.

"I can sense you two ramping up to something," you sighed, "so, I'm gonna ask you skip all that and tell me what's wrong. Why can't I go see my boyfriend? He just had an incredibly successful opening night, I kinda wanna kiss him if you don't mind."

"Um, well, h-he didn't want you to worry, so, he said not t'tell you, but, uh... Yeah, no, Carmy's, like, locked in the walk-in freezer. Han Solo style."

"What?"

"Locked in the walk-in," Fak nodded rapidly, "yeah, no, the handle - like, the whole handle came off. He's locked in, Peach..."

"Oh, my fucking God," you breathed. "Are you saying he - he missed opening night? Neil!"

"Yeah, kinda... Well, sorta - I mean, technically, but - "

"Oh, Jesus," you breezed past them all.

"Mmm-mmm, the fridge guy's name is Terry," Tina corrected Carmy, flinching a little when he slapped the other side of the metal door he was locked behind.

"See, th-tha-that's what I'm talking about!" Carmy raged. "I'm so fucking distracted, and for what? For fucking what? 'Cause of a girl?" He chuckled ruefully to himself.

"Nuh-uh, don't do that, Carmy," Tina scolded. "That's not no girl, that's your girl, that's Peach - you don't lash out at her, baby."

"Yo, maybe - maybe I'm just not built for this. Right? Maybe that's okay! Maybe that just is. She'd be better off, Tina... I'm just - I'm not built for this."

But what Carmy didn't hear was Sydney asking Tina to cover her at the front because she needed to step out the back, get some air; Tina accepting and telling Carm to hang on a moment. Something he missed. While Tina took Syd's spot, Syd rushed outside, and you slipped in the kitchen door; Carmy being surrounded by shitty ripped tape and an entire side full of the flowers he had brought in for tonight - for you. It was a haunting reminder; something suffocating.

When you got to the walk-in, you were prepared to call out for Carmy, but he started speaking from within, halting any word on your tongue.

"I wasn't here b-because I was looking a-a-at fucking engagement rings when the fridge guy fuckin' called," Carmy ranted, your heart stalling in your chest. "Right? Like, what the fuck was I thinking? Like I was gonna get married? Commit to this relationship? Be h-her fucking husband or some shit? Have a fucking wife? I'm a fucking - I'm a fuckin' psycho!" He laughed a little, the tears springing to your eyes as his words disarmed your heart and emotional dam. "That's why! That's why I'm good at what I do! That's how I operate! I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could - I could focus and I could concentrate and I had a routine and I - and I had fuckin' cell reception, and Peach and I just had our own routine! We didn't need this extra bullshit, and now..."

You just listened, leaning on the freezer's door, tears silently leaking down your cheeks as you had the horrendous realization that you were what now slowed Carmy down. You were what currently stood in his way, when this whole time, you thought you were helping; making things easier; supporting him. No... No, his words rattled your heart to accept that you were now the bane; the object of his ire. You and your relationship was what was wrong and was causing Carmy hurt and professional complications.

Something you never wanted to contribute towards. You both always said if this relationship got to be too hard, you'd walk away. Better to feel anger than resentment; and now, you knew you had to walk away else risk that resentment fester.

Carmy started up again, "I don't need to provide amusement or enjoyment, I don't need to be someone's 'to have and to hold'. I don't need to receive any amusement or enjoyment, nor for someone to have and hold me... And I'm completely fine with that. Because no amount of good is worth how terrible this fucking feels." You were ready to open your mouth, but he finished by nailing the final nail in the coffin of your relationship, "It's just a complete waste of fuckin' time - entertaining what I know I shouldn't. Being in this relationship, trying to give what I don't have, wasting everyone's time."

You took your chance, speaking through your tears, "I'm really sorry you feel that way, Carmen."

"Peach?" Carmy rasped from behind the door, sounding more alert than he had before. "Baby? Hey, hey, Peaches? That you? Peach - hey. Hey," he sounded desperate as you backed away from the door, a fist pounding into the metal, "hey, no, Y/N? Y/N!" The seriousness settled over you both, Carmen understanding you heard a lot more than ever intended and once those words are out there, there's no getting them back. "Y/N, baby? Hey, no, no, Y/N - listen to me - hey, no, no! I-I didn't know you were there, baby, okay? No, Y/N, please - tell me you're there now, let me explain." He paused. "Let me explain! Please! C'mon, baby, please, let me fucking explain - tell me you're still there! Y/N? Y/N!"

You sniffled and walked away, feeling smaller than you ever had in your life. You barely noticed when the kitchen door opened, not until a figured dressed in black stopped you. "Peach? Hey, hey," Richie halted you - taking note of the tears. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay - who fuckin' did it?"

You just stared at Richie for a long moment, opening your mouth twice before sighing and smiling sadly. "I never wanted to be what got in his way," you whispered sadly. "I'm sorry, Richie."

"Peaches, hey, what's - "

But you reached up to kiss his cheek, "Tonight was so beautiful, Cousin, and I'm so fucking proud of you all. Thank you for everything - not just tonight, Richie, but everything you do." You smiled again, whispering, "Take care of him. Okay? He'll need you."

"What're you talking about? What's going on? Where are you going? Hey, where are you going, Peach, please?"

"Have a good night, Richie, I love you," you whispered, leaving out the kitchen door as quickly as you could. "Hey," you sniffled, approaching Dani with the Fak Brothers, "can we go now, please?"

"Are you okay?" Dani worried in shock.

"I'd really like to go, Dani, please," you rushed, throwing your coat on and smiling at the Brothers as if your heart wasn't in pieces. "Thanks again for tonight, you guys, it was magical."

"Peach? Wait, hey, are you okay, baby? What just happened?" Neil worried, watching you snatch Dani's hand, but pause when screaming was heard from the kitchen. Everyone stared at the door, Neil muttering, "The fuck are they...?"

"Now, Dani, please," you whimpered to your friend, who wasted no time in escorting you out of The Bear. The moment you were outside, you burst into sobs, Dani grunting a little as she lead you down a side alley to lean you on a brick wall and beg you to breathe normally.

"What the hell just happened? Hey, honey, you need to breathe," she smoothed hair off your face - but it was like you were drowning in the air with the way you gasped and gaped and panted and whimpered and choked yourself.

"I-I-I-I think - I think w-we're done, I think we're done, I think - oh, fuck - I think we just broke up," you sobbed, hands on your knees. "Oh, my God, Dani," you whimpered, "I-I think - I think we're done, Danielle, oh, my fucking God. I-I heard things tonight that I just - I can't not know, anymore! He said - fuck! He was just so candid, he didn't know I was there so h-he was sayin' things I have t-to now confront - and I really didn't fucking want to! He just - he doesn't want to really marry me, D, and-and-and he was apparently looking a-a-a-at rings - fucking engagement rings! But then he said that w-was the issue - he missed the fridge guy's call 'cause he was looking at fucking rings for me and this is why he missed opening night - 'cause the fucking fridge broke! Oh, my God, Danielle, i-i-it's my fault, it's my fucking fault, he missed the most important night of his life and it's my fault - "

You were cut off by your stomach lurching, emptying your insides onto the pavement. The delicious appetizer, the tantalizing main course, Marcus' fresh baked bread that was delightfully soft on the inside yet baked crisp on the outside, and every bit of the sweetened dessert - all wasted on Chicago bricks.

"Okay, okay, ah, shit, just get it out, babe, there you go," Danielle held your hair, catching you in a suffocating hug once you were done puking. "I've got you, babe, I've got you. You're okay, no, hey, this isn't your fault. I've got you, come on. I think we need pints of ice cream and the saltiest pretzels we can find," she pushed some hair from your sticky forehead, pouting dramatically, "maybe some Pepto? Few Saltines and ginger ale? C'mon, we're going back to mine, there's a good girl," she coaxed you from the ground and away from the wall, "c'mon, you're stronger than this. There's my girl, here we go, just one foot in front of the other - together, with me, just like that."

You sobbed, not knowing that Sydney and her father stood listening just a few feet away behind a set of dumpsters.

The moment the freezer's door was open and Carmy was free, he was sprinting around the kitchen to grab his coat, leave Neil in charge of closing, and racing out the door as the Fak Brothers yelled at him for hurting your feelings.

"Hey, hey, hey, Chef! Carmy, wait!" Sydney chased him outside.

"No time!"

"Wait! She went with her friend!"

Carmy came to a tripping halt, catching himself before he hit the pavement before whirling around to approach her, "What?"

"Her friend? She was with some girl tonight?"

"Yeah - yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, um, that's - yeah, that's Danielle," Carmy nodded. "Her best friend, yeah, they were here tonight, sitting with Pete and Sugar."

"Listen, Carmy, I heard them when they left the restaurant... Peach was really upset, like, more upset than I've ever heard, saying you two broke up? Or something? She cried so hard, Carm, she actually threw up, it sounded like she was in genuine distress. I-I didn't know if I should've intervened, but her friend was with her and helping."

"Shit - fuck - Goddamnit," he seethed. "All right, thank you - "

"I doubt they went to your place, I think I heard her friend saying they were going to her apartment."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, great, I know where Dani lives, thanks Syd!" Carmy bid, sprinting in the other direction - never bothering with the public bus system, just running into the night. Sydney was left to sigh on the sidewalk, Neil and Theo joining her before Richie followed - all watching Carmy disappear down the sidewalk.

"He's a fucking idiot," Richie shook his head.

"What the hell even happened?" Syd asked.

"Carmy mouthed off in the walk-in, Peach heard it all," Richie supplied. "You know the dumbass was gonna propose tonight?"

"What?" Syd blinked in shock.

"Yeah," Neil tacked on, "we had a whole plan and everything. Candles, soft music, flowers - there's a bunch of flower bouquets in the walk-in."

"I'm sure that was hard for Carm to look at," Syd sympathized.

"Doesn't excuse whatever he said," Richie snapped. "She looked devastated."

"She cried so hard, she threw up in the alley," Syd frowned.

"How do you know?" Neil asked.

"I heard her," the other chef frowned. "My dad and I - we actually both heard her."

"Jesus fuck," Richie seethed.

"I mean... Should we still set up?" Theo wondered to his brother. "What if they kiss and make up, like always? Carmy might still wanna go through with the proposal, right? You know?"

"Maybe," Neil trailed, looking at Richie.

"I don't fucking know," he sighed, hands on his hips.

"She thinks they broke up, I imagine whatever she heard was pretty nasty," Sydney frowned. "Think they'll really make up tonight?"

"Let's hope," Richie sighed. "That fuckin' idiot isn't gonna find anyone better than Peach. Fuck," he looked around the city street. "All right, fuck it, fine, let's fucking set up. Not like the jackass deserves it, but let's do it for Peach."

Neil and his brother grinned at each other, turning to hustle back into The Bear - leaving Sydney and Richie on the street. No words were exchanged, just silent shakes of their heads before they followed the Faks with the intention to help set up for a proposal nobody even knew if would still happen.

The cold night burned Carmy's lungs, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of suffocation he felt earlier when listening to one of your voicemails while trapped.

Your words were sweet as pie, as they usually were; a voicemail left when you were still at work, but feeling so excited to see him that night that you just had to call him. You reminded him of the adoration and love you held for him, relaying how proud you felt - and that you knew Mikey would be, too. You were always doing that, reassuring Carmy; and maybe that's why he felt so freaked out, he wasn't used to it. Even after almost 7 years together, he just wasn't used to what he didn't know he deserved.

Because Carmy didn't think he deserved anything remotely close to love, understanding, compassion, patience, and / or reassurance.

He had sobbed out loud as he locked his phone, not having the heart to delete your message. He often never did - he liked listening to your voice on long, hard nights; it brought him peace when the world felt too loud. He also kept whatever little notes you left for him, even going as far as to get a few of your hand-drawn hearts tattooed on his forearm. One for each anniversary you've shared together. He realized he never wanted to be without you and all his doubts and fear was him projecting his own incompetence towards this relationship; so, he locked his phone, he didn't delete your message.

The moment the fridge door had been opened, Carmy was out of there, shot off like a Roman Candle - your words of love and understanding still ringing in his ears as he was freed. He needed to apologize, and he needed to apologize right fucking now.

The whole run to Danielle's apartment, Carmy wasn't sure what to say to you; mulling over different ideas in his head. He tried to plan his speech, but the only thing he could think of was how much he loved you and that the ring in his pocket weighed a hundred pounds.

He pounded at Danielle's door. Carmy paced slightly as he waited, knocking frantically, and surely waking the neighbors - but that didn't matter. All that mattered was talking to you, something he was desperate to accomplish. When the door opened, your friend offered a stale look and shook her head, "Nope."

"Dani, please," he halted the closing door, "it's all a misunderstanding, I swear to God, please, just - let me try to fix this. Please, okay? I-I need her - I fucking need her and I have to fix this 'cause she's all that matters, okay? So, let me talk to her - please. Please, Danielle!"

"Yeah? The only thing?"

"More than anyone, more than anything - more than The fucking Bear, I swear to fucking God, Danielle! Just - Just one chance, please. I-I don't know how it all got so fucked, but please, I have to try - "

"Whatever you said in that freezer, Carmen, fucking gutted her, you hear me?" Dani stood in her doorway protectively. "Should've had your ass frozen for the hurt you caused her. How the fuck do you intend on making this right? Huh? It's been almost a fucking decade, dude, if you're seriously still afraid of commitment, just fuck off and leave her alone. Let her walk away 'cause I promise, there's a line of dudes who would love to put a ring on her loyal-ass finger - "

"Please, let me fix this," Carmy begged, sounding close to tears. "I need her, Danielle, please."

"It's okay, D," a voice whispered from behind Danielle, and when she turned, you were revealed - jacket and purse in hand, looking completely exhausted, drained, and disheveled. "I'm just tired, Dani, but we have to talk about this... So, I'll go home with him and call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You sure?"

"It's a decent walk, gives us too much time to talk," you shrugged, refusing to meet Carmy's bloodshot eyes. "Thanks for tonight, sorry I was such a mess," you whispered, hugging your best friend since pre-school.

"Girl, don't you ever apologize to me. But hey, look, I don't know, you were just drowning in your tears, like, five minutes ago. Sure you really wanna go? You can stay here as long as you'd like, girl, fuck him."

"Better to work it out now than later, I guess," you whispered, letting her kiss your cheek and see you guys out.

"She calls me cryin', Carmen, I'll kick your ass," She threatened as you moved down the apartment's hall. You might've snickered just a little, but the amusement was wiped clean when you rounded the corner and came up to the elevators.

Now that it was just you two, it was dreadfully awkward.

"Baby - "

"Just - don't talk for right now, Carmen," you sighed, shaking your head. "I'm still digesting all you said."

He frowned when you walked onto the elevator without a single emotion on your face, following you, and when on the ground floor, moved out to head home. It was quiet, it was awkward; only the sounds of traffic filling the space between you as you walked.

"Listen," he started with a long sigh, "you came in at the worst time, Peach, heard some shit you shouldn't have that I-I didn't even mean. I was just," he paused, sighing, "really angry and frustrated, fucking running my mouth 'cause I didn't know what else to do."

"Sounded like I came in at the best time since you're not very forthcoming with emotions. So, hearing your confession put a lot in perspective for me, Carm."

"I was just angry, Peach," he frowned, hands deep in his pockets. "Felt like I was self sabotaging myself, I wasn't sure what else to feel. So, I just lashed out. I didn't mean it, but I just felt like being angry... So fucking angry, baby, I just - I didn't know what else to feel."

"I don't know if I can be with someone like that," you whispered. "Someone who throws our relationship under the bus when he's angry, someone who's first line of defense is apparently to blame the relationship he's been in for over half a decade with the same girl. Someone you've known your whole life..."

"Peach - "

"If it's that easy for you to just disregard us, I don't think we should continue this."

Carmy took a breath and reached out to pull you to a stop. He dug in his pocket for a moment, then showed you the black velvet jewelry box. "I was gonna propose tonight, when everyone was gone," he explained when you took the box to open gingerly. "I think because that was on my mind already, something I was more than nervous to actually do, you're right, it did become my first line of defense to blame us - not just you, baby, but us. You and me... Mostly me, though," he chuckled sadly. "You're this perfect, sweet angel who just loves me out loud when I don't deserve it, and I'm... I'm just me," he sighed, eyes reddening. "And I know I'm never gonna be enough for you, I think I started to get in my head about if you said no. How I missed the call from Terry about the fridge 'cause I was picking out an engagement ring that you didn't even want, that you rejected - rejected me; and in turn, I missed opening night, and it all just - it got to a boiling point. Look, Peach, it's never been a secret that I don't think I deserve you... But I wanted to be the man that could at least give you an honest try of my best. You've stuck by me the past seven years when you should've ran for the hills, and I knew I wanted us for life years ago - but everything was still so up in the air. So confusing. So fucked up. I figured, after opening tonight, if things went t'plan, I could propose - prove to you that we're on our feet and there weren't any rugs to be pulled."

"What if things didn't go to plan?" You whispered.

"We're kinda living it now," he admitted, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But even if tonight was all a total failure, I know I might've still done it because it's you, Peach. It's you... I've known for years you're who I want, I just never knew how to do this - to move us forward. You're my first relationship, hopefully my only relationship, and I just didn't know how to advance us. I think when things got real for me, my insecurities crept in, and I just reacted - I didn't think."

"We always said when this wasn't healthy or when this wasn't good for us anymore, we'd walk away," you reminded. "That we'd rather be sad or angry about a breakup instead of letting resentment fester from being together."

"It's still good for me, Peach, we're still good," he whispered, stepping closer. "Is it still good for you? Or did I lose you completely tonight?"

"I don't know, Carmy, you've been lashing out a lot lately. At me specifically."

"And with The Bear now open, I-I should be okay. You know? Back to normal?"

You chuckled dryly, "I see, back to your high walls? Emotional constipation?"

"Then maybe not normal," he corrected, "because I just needed to get us here, to tonight, to opening, and then show you that it's over. Show you that part of our lives is over and we only have more adventures to look forward to. Not ones like this, though," he gestured up the street, your eyes cutting over and realizing you were back at The Bear.

"Do you really think you're a psycho?"

He chuckled, "After tonight? Yeah, pretty convinced... Plus, I, uh, I saw in the freezer the way we're labeling things - and got angry about it. Angry about the way we were tearing tape and labeling things. It was so fucking stupid, but I just - I felt so crazy. I still do, I still feel like my head doesn't make sense and I'm a bit, you know... Crazy."

You nodded slowly, "Then how can you promise me this kinda shit won't happen again?"

"I don't think I can, but I can make you the promise that I am working on it; trying to identify when I feel reactive, trying to calm that down. I'm trying, Peach, I really am - it's just... Taking a lot of time," he sighed sadly. "And I know you don't have any more left to give me."

"I've already given you this many years," you reminded softly, "I think I could spare another or two if it meant you getting your shit together, that you get better, stop feeling so crazy."

"I don't deserve anymore time - "

"I think you need to step back and reevaluate what it means to be deserving because you always say that. That you don't deserve something - even as simple as time. Everyone deserves time and opportunity to figure shit out, Carmy, and you're no exception."

He nodded, "I'm... Trying." He took a long, deep breath, "I'm, uh... Going to meetings, you know, like, uh, Al-Anon and whatever."

"That's good, they're there to help," you nodded, stepping closer to take his hands in yours after closing the ring box and stuffing it back in his pocket. "Now, I think you need to do something."

"Anything, Peach."

"Take my hand, bring me back to The Bear, and go about your plan."

He froze in shock, blinking at you in earnest, "You really mean that?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"No, ma'am, and I think that scares me more."

"You'd rather break up? 'Cause at this point, Carm, we either move forward with this engagement and fucking work our shit out, or we break up. It's been almost a decade. It's your choice, you're the one who was saying he couldn't be someone's husband, that he didn't need to provide anyone nor have them provide you with anything. So, you tell me what you want to do - because all I know is that I love you, I want you for life, but not if you're going to resent me and regret moving our relationship forward. I don't need to get married, Carmy, but you can't keep jerking me around like you have been. So... Make a decision based on what you want - based on what's best for you. Not what's best for us, but put yourself first right now, Carmy, and make a decision about what you want."

With a nod of his head, Carmy cleared his throat and offered you his hand. When he felt you lock your fingers with his, he glanced up and down the street, then lead you across it. Up the sidewalk and to the front door of The illuminating Bear, he paused to produce his keys and then lead you inside.

The lights were dim, but a flip of the switch brightly lit up the newly constructed restaurant. He seemed nervous at your cool demeanor, watching you shed your coat and set your purse down; but his hand took yours again and lead you further into the place. He seemed nervous, but once in the kitchen, it was almost like Carmy's stress melted away.

"I was... I had this plan," he explained softly, leaning on one of the work stations with both hands in yours to keep you in front of him. "I have all these candles, right? Was gonna distract you in here," he looked around the fluorescent lighting, "while Richie, Fak, Tina, and the others set everything up. We'd hang in here after the place was closed down, you know, show you around the completed kitchen. And really casually, I'd ask if you were ready to go, so, we'd go out the front, and we'd walk right into the candlelight..."

"Yeah?" He nodded, thumbs running over your hands as he pushed off the counter. "Don't deviate from your plan now..."

Carmy smirked, "Wanna hear the boring kitchen stuff?"

"Of course, I do."

So, he lead you around in a tour of the kitchen; showing off the new office space that he invited you to take advantage of whenever you wanted. The sleek appliances were shown off, the vast fridges, freezers, new cutlery, state-of-the-art dishwashers. Everything, he showed you, knowing you helped him pick a lot of it out - it was still nice to see it all come together finally.

And then, slowly, he lead you out of the kitchen, but to your honest shock, the dining room was covered in lit candles and different bouquets of thick, gorgeous floral arrangements. "Oh, holy shit," you breathed, Carmy hiding his confusion much better than you.

You came to a slow halt in the middle of the room, the lights out and only leaving the candles to provide an ambiance. "I had this whole speech planned, too," Carmy told you softly. "Remind you of the day we met, how you saved me from those jackass bullies - remember?"

You smiled softly, emotions swirling in your chest, "First day of first grade, you had a Buzz Lightyear backpack and some kids were picking on you 'cause of it."

"And what did you do?"

You felt bashful remembering, but humored him by answering, "Pushed their faces in the mud at recess and made them apologize."

"You've been my best friend since that day," he nodded, bringing you in a few steps closer. "And when we got to high school, my feelings changed. You weren't just my best friend, but the girl I was madly in love with... Took me a couple years to buck up the courage to ask you out officially, though."

"Sure took your sweet time," you whispered with a smile, "but all good things to those who wait, right?"

"And I think you've waited long enough for a man to be who you deserve," he frowned. "All these years - it's been you at my side. You even - fuck - you even came over to Amsterdam for a bit because I was feeling overwhelmed and lonely. Sad, maybe even a little homesick. But you just - you just showed up like it was the most common thing in the world."

You chuckled through your tears, "Yeah, we had some good times on that boat, didn't we?"

He nodded with a softening smile, pushing hair from your face and behind your ear; pausing to hold your cheek carefully. "And when we came back stateside... You were still the only constant presence in my life. You were my family without blood, and I knew after that Christmas that you'd forever be my other half, and I'd spend my life conveying how grateful I am for you. I just - I never knew how to put it into words until now."

"What changed?"

"Realizing that I wanted to marry you years ago - and I should've. I know I shouldn't have drug my feet with us, delay our inevitable, because honestly? I couldn't see my life without you in it and I knew I needed you with me forever. Peach," he frowned, reaching for your other cheek, "we agreed when this wasn't healthy, we'd walk away - I remember that. But I need you to know, I'll never fucking regret you. I'll never resent you. You've been unwaveringly supportive and loving and... And I've been the luckiest man to experience it all. But now," he pushed himself a step closer so he was hovered over your lips, "I know that you deserve someone just as present in this relationship as you are. I knew once The Bear was done, I was done - I was done beating this bush around and wasting time. I knew what I needed to do because the idea of you not being in my life anymore terrifies me more than anything. I don't remember life without you, Peach, and I don't ever want to know what it's like. So," he cleared his throat, "here, in the restaurant I so desperately wanted to give up on so many times, but you always stopped me, I wanted to make this official. I wanted it to be here to show you that the past year of our turmoil - it's fucking over, Peach. We did it," he whispered, "and now, the next and only thing I want to focus on is us."

Carmy readjusted you both for a little bit of space, holding your left hand tightly as he lowered himself to a single knee; looking up at you with those big, wide, sad blue eyes that were growing redder by the passing second. The candlelight created a romantic atmosphere that cocooned you both in a warm embrace, the flowers around you projecting their floral scent.

"So, I need to ask you something real important, baby," he whispered, his throat bobbing to restrain his emotion that clawed up his throat, "because if I don't, I don't think I could breathe again." He cleared his throat, pulling the ring box from his pocket and opening it to present to you officially. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N... My sweetest Peach, I've loved you almost my entire life, you're my best friend, my most loyal and sweetest confidant. You make me want to be a man better than I was yesterday and never before have I ever seriously considered marriage - until you. Now? Now, I can't get the idea out of my head, so, my sweet girl," he took another breath, the tears in his eyes swelling and slowly dripping down his cheeks as you slowly got on your knees in front of him, "I need to ask you... W-Would you do me the honor? Of being my wife?"

"Carmen."

He grinned at you, both with tears down your cheeks. "Will you marry me, Y/N? I can't see my life without you in it, so... I want this, I want you for life. Y/N, will you marry me?" He paused, adding a meek little, "Please?" at the end.

With a deep breath, you slowly reached for his cheeks in a soft caress to wipe his tears; both just staring at one another for a good few moments before a face-splitting grin nearly cracked your lips. "Yes," you finally answered, "yeah, yes, yes, of course, I'll marry you, Carmen, yes!"

"Oh, thank fuckin' God," he laughed, letting you lunge forward to knock him backward in a hug - missing the candles arranged in a small circle for you two to stand in. Carmy laughed loudly, happily, giving you a tight squeeze as he mused, "Had my heart beatin' outta my chest for a second there, Peach."

"Oh, please," you laughed, "after all this time, you really thought I'd say no?"

He shrugged meekly, "Thought my most recent fuck-ups would've added to any reasons you might have to say no."

"Oh, spare me - you're my best friend, Carmy, you know I couldn't ever say no to you. Not without puking in nervousness."

"Can we maybe not talk about puke when we just got engaged?"

You laughed and nodded, "Fine, fine, fine, then put the ring on, please."

You presented your left manicured hand, watching Carmy almost giddily removed the band from the box, took a slow, deep breath, and then, the most beautiful ring was being slid onto your finger in an official show of your engagement. Of your undying love. Of your commitment, promises, and future together.

"YEAH!" An array of varying cheers and hollers of support and excitement rang out around you; startling both you and Carmy to look up. Richie, Sydney, Tina, Neil, Theo, Pete, and Sugar all hung in the bathroom's alcove - watching with splitting grins and cheering in celebration.

There was no time to question them as Richie lead the charge over; helping you to your feet for a giant, bear hug before gushing over your engagement ring. Neil and Theo popped one of the authentic bottles of champagne, pouring different flutes for those present.

"Calm down," Natalie scolded Richie lightly, "and move out the way, I want to hug my engaged bestie!"

You squealed with Sugar when her arms wrapped around you tightly, Rich moving on to congratulate Carmy - who apologized for his angry words earlier and thanked them for still setting things up. Richie promised it was for you, not Carmy, but still hugged the little shit with a laugh - indicating he was just joking.

"Let me see!" Natalie grinned, examining the ring Carmy chose and squealing again. "Oh, my God! Oh, it's so pretty! Oh, shit - sisters!" She gasped, holding your hands tightly, "We're going to be sisters - like, officially!"

"Sisters in law, but yeah, cupcake," you beamed at her, wiping your tears and giggling. "I can't - this just doesn't feel real," you told her softly, looking the few feet over to see Carmy with the lads as Sydney stood with you and Sugar. "Him proposing? I genuinely thought it wouldn't happen," you tried to laugh your nerves off, looking at your ring and fiddling with it.

"Yeah, right," Sydney laughed. "I haven't been around that long and even I knew this was gonna happen."

"Oh, please, she's right," Natalie grinned when you went to retaliate, "he first started talking about how he wanted to marry you when he was, like, 15. This has been the longest thing coming."

"Thank you guys for helping," you whispered with a smile. "It's all so beautiful."

"Happy to help for a good cause," Syd smiled, complimenting your ring as Neil called for a toast. Everyone was given flutes of champagne, Carmy's arm wrapping around your waist as each friend gave their own little speech, congratulating you both before the alcohol was being drained.

"Uh, and where are you two going?" Sugar asked about an hour later with a small giggle when Carmy wrapped an arm around your neck after helping you into your coat again.

"Gotta celebrate alone with my fiancé," he smirked, "later, guys! Don't forget to lock up!"

"Carmen!" You scolded with a small laugh, gaping at him.

"What? They got this," Carmy chuckled. "Thanks, you guys, see you tomorrow!"

"We can help clean," you told him as he lead you out of the restaurant.

"Nah, we've got bigger plans," he smirked at you. "Got plenty t'celebrate, yeah? Ever fucked as fiancés before?"

"No - but I hear it's some crazy sex," you whispered, locking your arms around his waist to stay close. Neither of you cared about the bus at this hour, opting to walk home in the cold - not that you felt it. Your love burned brighter than the cold biting your skin.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

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chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?”

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment. The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time.

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea.

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter.

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this.

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely.

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against the counter on the opposite side of him.

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories.

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job, but I do miss it.”

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture.

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?”

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits, I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.”

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.”

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet.

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it.

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him.

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture.

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator.

The atmosphere hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach.

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off.

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you.

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette.

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you.

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.”

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes.

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose.

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up.

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing.

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here.

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned.

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink.

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult.

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays a hint of eagerness.

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now.

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff.

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on.

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels.

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman.

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest.

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter.

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.”

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration.

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.”

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed…

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman.

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod.

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request.

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest.

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively.

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant.

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office.

“Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused.

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains.

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.

“Suspended license.”

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out.

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business.

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!”

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening. “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here.

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased.

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains.

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes.

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head.

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat.

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!”

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving.

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well.

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step.

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion.

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses.

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance.

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head.

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low. His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling.

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over.

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.

· · · · ·

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing.

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it.

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night.

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know, and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come.

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-”

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone.

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through.

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.”

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.”

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow.

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you.

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

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fooled-around-and-fell · 6 months

Text

A Romantic

summary: carmen sees how surprisingly romantic richie is towards his girl, and decides that he wants to be like that for his girl, too.

genre: fluff

warnings: cursing

Masterlist

-----

"aw, baby," richie's girl squeals in joy when richie surprises her with yet another bouquet of flowers. it was only yesterday when richie got her a bouquet of flowers just as big.

"only the best for my lady," he tips his non-existent hat and speaks in a british accent. "now, shall we head to the restaurant? I believe we have a reservation in... 15 minutes."

linking her arm gleefully, they both walked down the road to the fancy restaurant that just opened nearby.

"wow." syd chuckles. "who knew richie could be so..."

"i know i hate to say it..." you sigh and share a look with her.

"romantic."

carmen overhears your conversation and his ears perk up.

"it's a little much," syd says, "that bouquet of flowers was bigger than her own head."

you laugh, "yeah it is a little much. i wouldn't say no to flowers though."

"of course not. when was the last time carmen got you flowers like that?"

laughing again, you shake her off. "our relationship is not like that-"

not like what? carmen frowns.

"-you mean he's not like that." syd smirks. "you know you want flowers."

you send her a look. "syd, come on. sure, they're beautiful, but i don't need to be given flowers. i like my quality time with carmen."

syd chuckles, "i know what you mean! i do. but like you said, you wouldn't say no to flowers, right?"

"...no."

carmen walks away from your private conversation, his frown staying. he needs to step up his game.

-----

one night, you're home first before carmen. he said he needed to close, so he'll be late but will still have dinner together with you. so after work, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things, and now you just got back, ready to prepare dinner for the both of you.

only... when you enter your shared apartment, carmen is lighting candles on your dining table. two delicious looking plates of food are already served, and the only thing missing is the two people in love.

"carmen... what's all this?" you ask with an amused smile.

he shrugs. "wanted to surprise you."

you hung your coat on the rack and walk towards him. "i'm definitely- oh!"

carmen pulls out a bouquet of flowers from his back and almost hit your nose in the process. "sorry."

laughing, you take the flowers and kiss him. "thank you. they're beautiful."

"you're beautiful." he whispers before kissing you again.

"what's the special occasion?" you ask while he pulls out your chair for you. "are we celebrating something?"

"nope," carmen says, "just wanted to do something nice."

your eyes squint for a moment but you decide to let it go and just enjoy the evening with your boyfriend.

you don't realize that last night's gestures happened because carmen had overheard your conversation with syd. then you wake up the next morning with carmen bringing over breakfast with more flowers and you know something's not right.

"come here," you pat the spot next to you and he sits.

"what's wrong?" he asks, "did you want waffles instead of pancakes-"

"carmen, what's going on, really?"

he shrugs, acting like he has no idea what you're on about.

"candle-lit dinner last night, and now breakfast in bed?" you ask.

"like i said, i just wanted to do something nice for you, babe."

you raise your brow at him, signaling that he can't fool anyone, and he finally breaks.

"fine." he sighs, "i... heard you talking to syd the other day. about richie being all romantic to his girl and i don't know... it sounded like you'd appreciate it if i could be more romantic, so.."

he started mumbling and rambling and you find it so cute.

"aw, carmy." you chuckle and caress his cheek. "you are romantic. not in the way richie is, but you are."

he rolls his eyes, "sure."

"i'm serious." you say. "who folds back all of the clothes i try on and off before going to work even when i told you i'll do it later?"

carmen glances at you. "i do?"

"you do." you confirm. "you know what else you do? you always put notes on my lunch box. you always check whether my plants need to be watered or not -- and you water them if they need to be! you also always offer to get the groceries, and when you do you always get my favorite ice cream even when i didn't ask for it."

"you know when i had a bad day, and you know exactly how to cheer me up. you're always there for me, even when i'm angry at you." you continue, "you are romantic, carmen. very, very much so. not in the way richie is, but i don't want that anyway. i want your version of romance."

"that's really cheesy, you know." carmen smiles while listening to your words.

"sue me."

he moves the breakfast tray to the nightstand and kisses you passionately. he makes you lay back on the bed and hands you your phone.

"might wanna tell work you're gonna be late today."

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carmybabey · 5 months

Text

just want to be comfy and cozy with carmy under a huge fluffy blanket, watching some tv while you cockwarm him

he makes absolutely no love to fuck you - keeps his cock stuffed deep into your cunt while his hands are rubbing soft and small circles on your hips

“you’re bein’ so good for me, baby.” he mumbles against your neck, nose nose cold against your skin as his lips press soft kisses along your shoulder

“pussy feels so fuckin’ good…” his voice is low and tough, sending a shiver thru your body down to your cunt. he feels you pulse around him as your body shivers. you hum softly pushing into his back, squeezing your thighs

“you wan’ me to fuck you, sweetheart?” he teases softly, chuckle escaping his throat as you nod, grinding your hips down a little. he grips your hips, pulling you into his and you let out a soft moan as you felt the tip of his cock hit you deep

“o-oh, carmy fuck…” he smiles against your skin, before settling again into the couch, his hand wrapping around your waist and sneaking under your underwear. his fingers trail down to your clit, the soft sensation making you feel more wet than you already were

“that what you need, baby?” you let out a soft moan and nodded while he teased your clit, biting and gently licking the skin on your collarbone

#carmybabey works.#carmy berzatto #carmy x f!reader #carmy x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader

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moiridior · 2 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

she’s visiting carmen at his work with nothing but innocent intentions, but things get completely turned around, really quickly.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut with no plot, established relationship, fem aligned reader, dirty talk, manhandling, grinding, spanking, creampie, cumplay, and not canon compliant

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3028

Rubbing her thighs together helps nothing to repress the ache she feels as she watches Carmy.

She doesn't know exactly what it is but, seeing him angry, cursing and yelling with a knife in his hand never fails in making her instantly wet. The kitchen is a little crowded today when she walks in, trying to catch Carmy’s eye as she watches him deal with his annoying staff. She mostly felt a little conflicted, amused at his annoyed facial expressions and sly eye rolls on one hand, and on the other, just fucking horny and needy at his authoritativeness.

Carmen Berzatto was all man and she fucking loved it.

Since she laid her eyes on him, her-and her pussy-immediately recognized that look in his eye, seemingly dangerously close to the look he gives her when she’s being a brat.

She swears up and down to herself that she had completely different intentions when she came down here, but now, all she wanted to do was get on her knees for him – mouth open wide, tongue hanging out over her bottom lip and eyes seemingly innocent as if she were anything but.

Why had she come down to the restaurant again? She couldn’t remember and didn’t even care. All she cared about right then was getting Carmy to pound her with his cock until he came inside of her.

She’s too lost in her horny daydreams to notice that Carmy’s called her to follow him into his office, his back turning as he strode down the kitchen and past everyone, leaving her to run and catch up with him. He’s already inside and sitting down when she walks in, lightly closing the door behind her.

“What’cha working on?” She questions. He looks at her with his elbow pressed into the armrest of his chair as he rests his head against his closed fist. She ignores any potential questioning look he’s more than likely giving her as she steps over and between his legs, lifting herself up onto his thigh. He sighs deeply when her fingers press into his forehead, smoothing out the frown lines, and carding her fingers through his hair.

He relaxes into her touch, warm hand resting on her bare thigh where her dress had ridden up. She jumps when his phone suddenly sounds, Ritchie or Sugar probably – she’s not paying attention, really. Annoying little shits. Camry takes his phone into his hands and places it on silent.

The edge of his desk presses into her side as he rolls his chair up, his attention being taken away from her to some type of form on his desk, she doesn't care really – she’s more interested in him. The way he looks, the way he smells, the way his chest rises and falls underneath her, thick thighs spread and long legs stretched out under his desk. She suddenly feels incredibly small in his lap, a few shivers running through her as her hips roll subconsciously.

She silently curses herself at how she initially chose to sit on him, the angle being awkward and not at all convenient for what she wanted to do. But she’s nothing if not persistent.

Without much disturbance to Carmy, she shimmies a bit, ass sitting on the top of his thigh as she moves a leg to rest on the outside of his thigh – as opposed to both of them being on the inside of his legs. Her dress rucks up even more as she settles, leaning her back on Carmy’s chest and giving a short, experimental roll of her hips.

The second roll is better than the first, his jeans pulled tight over his thigh providing a relatively easy and even surface to subtly grind against, the material of her underwear beginning to squish with every slide against him and with every slow roll of her hips.

His arm tightens around her momentarily and she stiffens, pausing long enough to hear her heavy breathing past her blood buzzing in her ears. When nothing is said she relaxes against him again, hips rolling forward, a little heavier and a little needier, making her bite back and swallow down every whine or whimper or hitch that wants to leave her.

If she focuses hard enough she can hear the sound of her slick covered underwear squish against her, rubbing directly against her clit, the bundle of nerves throbbing so hard that it was almost painful.

“I wonder how long it would’ve took you to realize that I stopped paying attention to these papers.” Her heart stutters and her blood runs cold as she stops, mouth open as her brain slowly registers that she’d been caught red-handed.

“I-I…” her mind ran blank as she tried to explain – somehow. He chuckles as her body flushes, the reverberations of his voice rolling through her and adding to the fire that was currently simmering, idling.

“Should’ve known you just came here wanting to get off.” His hands run up her thighs, bringing her dress up and showcasing her panties soaked in her arousal. She shakes her head, trying to deny but can’t stop the whimper that begs to be let out when Carmy flexes his thigh, pulling her legs open wider. “Just feeling horny, baby? Hm, such a needy little thing.”

His hands hold her hips as he pushes her back into another grind, her mouth running dry as it continues to gape open, “I-, I w-wasn’t,” A moan from no one other than herself cuts her off, the seat of her panties drenched and sliding against her clit as she keeps rolling, trying to speak again, “I just wanted to visit you… I’m innocent, I swear.” Her voice is whiny as she tries to convince him but he just chuckles.

“No, I know, baby. But you can never help yourself, can you?” She shakes her head adamantly, no, teeth sinking into her lip when he squeezes her breast over her dress, bouncing his leg. What was that?

She swallows hard, movements becoming more insistent as they quicken, hips circling and jerking, “No, I can’t help myself, Daddy.”

Now she’s riding his thigh like she was dreaming of, heavy, dirty, wet grinds of her cunt against his thigh, toes just shy of grazing the floor as she whines softly. She can feel him hardening in his pants, cock filling out, hot and hard and heavy as it pokes her. Some strangled noise, a combination of a whine, a moan, a hitching cry of his name escapes her as his hand gropes her chest again, pinching a pebbled nipple underneath her dress – the only layer separating her from his touch there. “Something you want, sweetheart? Hm?”

Even when she grows tired of grinding on him, his hand is still there, keeping her in that steady rhythmic push and pull. She nods persistently, eyes fluttering closed as she whines again, “Want your cock, Carmy, please.”

“You want my cock? You seem quite content with just my thigh there, can feel you soaking through my fucking pants… are you sure?” She sobs, cutting it short and pouting when Carmy warns her to quiet the fuck down. It’s then that she remembers where she is, too caught up in him – him in his uniform, him with that goddamn cigarette breath, him and his foul mouth, him and his thick cock.

“Yes, please. I want your cock… please, Chef.” A squeak escapes her as a low growl rises out of Carmy, a string of curses flying from his mouth as he fumbles with the buckle of his belt.

She’s practically buzzing with excitement, mouth watering and mind hazy at the sounds of metal clanging, zipper being undone, material rustling – and then he’s lifting her up. One arm wrapped firmly around her with his hand reaching under her right thigh, lifting her up over his cock, and then he’s whispering in her ear, “If you want to keep your underwear, I suggest that you move them out of my way.”

Trembling fingers push her underwear to the side of her pussy, and her free hand is quick to fly up to her mouth when Carmy pushes inside her. He lowers her onto his cock slowly, forcing her to feel the walls of her cunt stretch with every inch as he enters her. Her legs are spread wide, ass settling and rubbing against his shirt.

She breathes heavily, whining when he’s all the way inside. Her hands come up and splay over the span of her abdomen, feeling as if he was penetrating her deep in her stomach. His cock pulsates inside of her as he suddenly bucks his hips up, and the feeling is blinding, his arm returning to wrap around her waist, lifting her up and letting her fall down along his cock. “Come on princess, you wanted my cock so bad, ride me.”

And she really can’t move, what with his arm around her pulling her to his chest and being so fucking deep inside her. When she whimpers and doesn't move, his palm comes down on her pussy with a little smack, shushing her as an immediate yelp tears from her lips, her clit throbbing. A hand appears on her neck, fingers squeezing the sides as he repeats himself, sliding his hand down from her neck to her chest.

So she rolls her hips, swallowing down a sob when the head of him nudges that spot deep inside her. Every lift barely takes her a few centimeters above his pelvis but she still grows close, extremely quickly, shaking as she grinds down and clenches around his cock. Tears leak from her eyes as Carmy groans quietly, “That’s it… that’s a good girl. Gonna come soon?” She nods adamantly, hips moving faster, as fast as she can, imitating her earlier movements.

The crest of her orgasm reaches her as her thigh cramps, her head falling back on Carmy’s shoulder as she bites down on her tongue, feeling it begin to roll over her. Carmy’s hands suddenly appear on her hips, his grip strong and tight as he holds her still, preventing her from riding herself through her high.

Her head jerks up from his shoulder, brows furrowed as she prepares to fuss when every word she was prepared to say dies on her tongue. knocking and then walking through the doorway is no one other than Neil. Her fingers tremble as she pulls her dress down, ignoring her pussy leaking around Carmy’s cock as she smiles weakly at the dumbass.

His steps slow down as he notices her sitting on Carmy’s lap but he keeps walking in nonetheless, sitting down in the free chair across from the desk. “Sorry to bother ya’ Chef…” He drones on about something, possibly work related and she couldn’t care less, too distracted by Carmy’s cock twitching in her cunt and her heart racing still as she faces to confront how hot and hard and thick he was inside of her. She swallows harshly, doing her best to breathe and calm down and pretend like he wasn’t currently balls deep inside her cunt, pulsating and swelling by the second. She’s comforted slightly by the annoyed tick in Carmy’s jaw, knowing she weren’t the only one being tortured.

Once he’s certain she’s gotten the hint to stay still, he lets go of her hips, opting instead for wrapping an arm around her middle. Internally she was screaming at Neil, telling him to get out so she could fucking come already, externally, she was fighting to control her breathing and slow down her still racing heart.

Leaning back against him was a mistake, quickly biting down on her tongue to hold back a whiny moan as Carmy’s cock pressed firmly at her deepest spot. Almost every muscle in her body tightened, trying so hard to not move anymore. Her pussy throbbed and leaked with every passing second that she had to sit still around his cock, and she didn’t mean to, she really didn’t, but as soon as the walls of her pussy contracted around Carmy’s cock in a slight squeeze, he grunted. His voice was tight as he spoke to Neil, eyes dark and narrowed, fully intent on getting him the fuck out of there.

Her legs trembled as his cock involuntarily twitched inside her, prompting her to squeeze again. It was almost pavlovian, she felt him twitch inside her and her walls contracted around him, trying to quell her need – which at this point was beyond trying to control. Her body was out of her hands now. Neil needed to fucking leave.

“But anyways, that’s all I wanted to say, gonna head back before Ritchie tries to fuck me in the ass. See ya.” He tips his hat toward her in a goodbye and she can’t manage anything in return except a slight upward turn of her lips but it doesn’t even matter because he’s closing the door and leaving. Both her and Carmy simultaneously let out deep breaths she didn’t know she was holding.

She’s barely in the middle of another deep breath when Carmy’s hands return to her hips as he stands, pushing his chair backwards in the process. He pushes her down until she’s laid on top of his desk, papers she’s sure he no longer cares about getting rumpled underneath her chest.

“Nearly soaked my pants with how much that little pussy of yours was leaking on me.” Her cheek is flat against the desk, arms stretching above her head to grip the edge of it.

Carmy’s legs keep her thighs spread as he palms her ass open, cursing lowly at the sight of her pussy hugging and leaking around his cock, before he’s pulling out and snapping his hips forward with a hard thrust. The force behind it knocks out a high-pitched moan from her, her pussy squeezing Carmy’s cock and seemingly trying to pull him deeper inside her as he splits her open with each thrust. “Keep quiet, I fucking mean it.”

The edge of the desk dug into the skin of her hips as he fucked her into it, his chest pressing into her back as he leans over her, cock grinding deeper into her. “You feel so good around my cock, baby. Come on, clench around my cock some more.” her abdomen cramps as she squeezes him harder, chest numbing against wood as he curses, and praises, “Always so good and tight for me.”

“Keep squeezing me, baby. Gonna make you come all over my cock.” He comes up off of her, gaining more power again behind his thrusts, a silent ‘Daddy’ leaving her as his cock pounds deep into her, the girth of him still stretching her out over and over and over.

She can feel him grow close as the coil deep in her stomach tightens and tightens, his cock swelling inside her and making her sob quietly as her clit throbs needily. “Camry... Gonna c-come.”

“Yeah?” His pace stutters as his voice deepens, more breathy than it is words as he reaches around her thigh to rub her clit. “Come for me, sweetheart.” Her eyes screw shut and her mouth hangs open in a silent scream when the coil snaps and she comes, the sheer strength of it shaking her to her very core, tears leaking from her eyes. Carmy’s hips jerk once and twice and then he too comes, painting the walls of her cunt as he fills her with his cum, to the point where it begins to leak out of her.

He’s held his position over her, hands on her hips with his eyes shut tight as he groans, the material of her underwear sliding against his cock as he’s pulling out of her still tingling pussy. “Wow,” he breathes, her ears straining a bit as she hears him plop down into his chair, zipping his pants up, “your pussy really didn’t want me to leave.”

All she can do is whimper quietly in response, still laid out on top of his desk as she comes down, slowly leaving being fucked out and entering completely sated. Her hips buck when she feels Carmy touch her, two of his long fingers lightly circling over her clit before gathering her mixed juices leaking from her pussy and cursing when he pushes it back into her cunt, her walls hugging and fluttering around his fingers.

He’s passing his hands over her ass and thighs, a slow caress to comfort her after he pulls his fingers out of her, a small gasp falling from her lips. Her eyes blink open as her mind fully returns to her, exhaling deeply and flushing when Carmy fixes her underwear, pushing the seat of it back and pulling the hem of them up until they fit just as snug as they were when she first put them on.

“You alive over there?” He chuckles, fingers lightly tracing the backs of her knees and thighs as she hums, her hands pressing into the wood beneath her as she push herself up, her dress falling back down.

“Yeah.” Good.

She meets him eye to eye as she turns around to face him, taking a little comfort in knowing that he looked as fucked and sated as she felt. “Come here.” He pulls her until she’s standing between his legs, swallowing down a lump in her throat as she tries not to think about how small she felt between his legs and as he pulls her closer into him, her chest meeting his as he places a quick kiss on her lips.

His hands trail up the backs of her legs until they rest under her ass, palms spread over them as he gives a firm squeeze, smiling when she squeaks. Suddenly her eyes widen and her face flushes, causing Carmy’s eyebrows to crease in concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

She regards him with wide eyes, voice small as she whimpers, “I… I can feel your cum dripping out of me.” A shit eating grin spreads across his lips immediately, her eyes rolling as she squeezes her thighs together. He chuckles, stopping when she gives him a quick glare.

“Better go home and clean up, baby.” Asshole.

#Carmen Berzatto #Carmy Berzatto #The Bear #Carmen Berzatto Smut #Carmy Berzatto Smut #Carmen Berzatto x reader #Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader #Carmen Berzatto x F!Reader #Carmy Berzatto x F!Reader #Carmy Berzatto x Reader #Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader #Carmy Berzatto x Fem Reader #Carmen Berzatto x Fem Reader

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

Text

We should love, not to fall in love (Carmy Berzatto x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader

Word count:

Summary: Midnight snacks, Midnight talks

Warning: Fluff

A/N: I don’t know, he just gives me such a vibe that he wants a hug

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

You woke up at the sound of movement from your kitchen, your hand quickly went to the other side only to find it empty. It was still warm so you knew what was happening, it was one of those nights.

You sat down, the sheets falling to your lap as your hand tried to shake away the sleep from your face as you grabbed your phone to watch the hour. 2:45 am. You sighed and stand up, grabbing a shirt from the floor and putting it on, it was his shirt from early today, you could still distinguish the smell of garlic and onion. You couldn’t help but smile.

Ah, there he was.

Camry was sitting with his hands on his face, you could see how tense his shoulders were so you just knew it was another nightmare. He’s been having them more frequently now.

You walked towards him, you didn’t speak, your hand touched his back and you felt him sigh, dropping his head with a low sound. “Are you alright, baby?” You whispered. Carmy turn his head slightly to your side but not fully, the soft lighting from the outside lights illuminated him softly.

“I’m alright.” He whispered to you, like if you were in a room full of people and he wanted only you to hear him.

You let your arms surrounded him from behind, hugging his neck as you rested on his back, his hands quickly grabbed yours, leading them to his mouth where he kissed them. “I’m alright.” He repeated.

You knew he was never one for many words outside from his job, you remembered the first time you saw him in his element, he moved like water, giving orders and receiving good results. It wasn’t always like that, you knew, but he always had a strong, direct, powerful and unwavering voice than anyone but you would understand. But in here, in here was different, he was more soft, often leaving you do the talking, his voice in here was something you didn’t need to hear to understand. He showed his feelings through his actions, through the way his body moved.

Camry pressed another kiss against your hands, a soft display of his affection and you couldn’t help but smile against his back. “I love you, you know?” You spoke softly from behind but he heard it as clear as water.

In a swift movement, Carmy maneuvered you from behind to sit you on his lap, his hands wrapped gently around you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, your hand quickly grabbed his hair, softly brushing it with your fingers. He gently placed a kiss on your shoulder. “I love you too.”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x f!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear fic #this is pure fluffiness #midnight fluff #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fluff

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sugatrapp · 6 months

Text

「 W a f f l e s 」

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Pairings: Carmen Berzatto x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You wanted to take a picture with Carmy, but he didn’t take it seriously. You threatened to post the failed pictures on Instagram, but then he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

Warnings: NSFW / Sexual Themes ~ Spanking ~ Food Play ~ Non-specified gender or genitalia of reader ~ just an overall playful and goofy mood with a little spice

A/N: It’s my birthday today, but I figured why should I be the only one to enjoy today? Well, you’ll probably enjoy it more than me since I have classes 🙃 but still hope you like the story!

AO3

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Being around Carmen felt as natural as breathing. From the moment you met, you knew right away there was no one else you’d rather give your heart to. He made you laugh even when he wasn’t trying, he remembered the most minuscule details about you and what you liked, and he was always there when you needed him. You could never bother me. ‘M only a call or text away, he’d remind you for the fortieth time after you admitted to not wanting to add to his stress from work. No one could ever dream of asking for a better boyfriend.

Except whenever you tried to take pictures with him.

It had been ten minutes since you asked him to take a picture with you for your socials. Saving memories was your second favorite part of making them, so it was inevitable that you’d ask him. But he was in an especially playful mood that day. The smile he flashed at the camera was overly wide and a bit creepy if you looked long enough. With a pout, you shoved him away while he laughed.

“You’re such a jag off.”

He held a hand over his mouth to calm himself down to no avail. “Hey, I smiled didn’t I?”

“Like a serial killer.”

He shrugged and kissed your forehead as an apology. As you scrolled through the handful of failed images, a lightbulb flicked on over your head.

“I don’t even care, I’m still gonna post them.”

“No you’re not.”

When he saw the blank expression on your face, he reached for the phone only for you to hold it out of his grasp. You both made eye contact. A glint he knew all too well flashed behind your eyes. A glint that meant you were going to be a bratty pain in the ass. He reacted a second too slow as your form dodged his arms and took off running up the stairs. He rushed after you, but you had already shut and locked yourself in the bedroom. He banged on the door.

“Babe open the door! You better not post those.”

“Or what Carmen?” You asked, putting emphasis on his name.

“I’ll sue.”

You chuckled. “Guess I’ll be seeing you in court then.”

He sighed, running his fingers through his curls while pacing. What to do, what to do? After a moment, an idea popped into his mind and he smirked. He made sure to get nice and close to the area of the door where he knew you were standing.

“I’ll spank you.”

There was dead silence for a while before you spoke in a breathless whisper.

“Promise?”

He hummed in agreement. “Just give me your phone and you can have what’s behind door number one.”

“What’s the catch?”

You knew him too well.

“You take however many I feel you deserve—“ you made a sound of protest, “but I’ll sweeten the deal with some waffles.”

You thought over his proposal, but the throbbing between your legs had already decided. The lock clicked and the door swung open. You huffed as you handed over your phone. He deleted all but one of the photos, using it to set your wallpaper to his creepy smile before pocketing the phone. You’d see his surprise later.

You were bouncing your leg the entire time he was preparing the waffles. Carmy was awfully heavy handed when it came to punishments. Just a few weeks ago when he caught your hand between your legs without permission, you thought he was in a good mood helping you find your release. But then he kept going and going until you were too sore and sensitive to handle him even breathing on your skin.

A shiver ran up your spine as the steaming stack of waffles was placed on the island in front of you. While you were zoned out, he had dressed them up with whipped cream and berries, topping it off with buttermilk syrup. You were definitely not going to be able to sit down properly for a while.

“You wanna eat ‘em now or take ‘em with you?”

“With me,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t go easy on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You frowned as he chuckled, giving you one last nicety of a kiss at your temple before he got down to business.

“Bedroom in three. Don’t be late.”

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

He was sitting at the edge of the bed when you entered. Beside him was a can of whipped cream. He patted his leg with a smirk on his face.

You took a deep breath before walking over, carefully lying across his lap with your waffles. You had sliced them into smaller pieces downstairs to make it easier. He wasted no time, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them off. You flinched as he gave you a light playful swat, laughing.

“I haven’t done anything yet, baby, relax.”

Easy for him to say. You knew he was lulling you into a false sense of security as he caressed your bare bottom, but you couldn’t help but melt, taking a bite of the waffles. It was heavenly, all fluffy and sweet, bright flavors exploding in your—

Smack!

You yelped as his hand came down hard on your right cheek.

“Count,” he demanded.

“O-One chef.”

“Good.”

Another on the right. Two chef. Three chef. Four. It wasn’t until eight when he switched to the left. It was because the right cheek was slightly smaller than the other. You were insecure about it at first, but he made sure to give it equal attention in any other case. But in this case, it didn’t help.

Tears streamed down your face at eleven, shoving more waffle in your mouth to mask your noises. His hand left your hot skin for a moment and you braced for another hit only to be met with a cold spray of whipped cream. He smeared the cream over your sore bottom, bending over to lick it off.

You mewled, forcing yourself to remain still as he tongued you down, open mouth kisses getting awful close to your desperate core. Of course he pretended not to notice, avoiding it like the plague yet gripping your inner thigh mere inches away.

“Carmy,” you moaned.

His hum vibrated over your skin.

“Please…”

Smack! You had fallen for it again.

“Was trying t’ give you a break but if you insist.”

You gritted your teeth, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes. Another five hits later and the whipped cream was back. You sighed and pushed back into his roaming hand.

“Taste so good baby,” he moaned.

You stabbed another piece of waffle with your fork, twisting a bit to offer it to him. He closed his mouth around it, expression blissful as he took in the flavors. He plucked a strawberry from the plate, dipping it into the whipped cream still on your ass. You squirmed in place, beyond turned on and uncomfortable at being in the same position for so long.

Smack!

“You gonna be good or am I gonna have to add another one?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be good for you.” Then you sweetened the deal with wide, albeit watery, puppy eyes.

He took another fruit from the plate and popped it in his mouth. “Still got two more.”

You whined, on the verge of kicking your legs in protest until another smack halted you in your tracks.

“Three more.”

You bit your tongue and nodded. Eventually twenty-two rolled around and you sighed in relief. Your waffles were all gone, a few pieces of fruit left behind. You hissed as he ran his hands over your sore cheeks, no doubt bruised.

“Did so well for me baby. I think you deserve a little treat.”

Your eyes lit up. “You mean the waffles weren’t it?”

“I mean, if you don’t want it—“

“No!” You sat up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking the side of his face. “I want it.”

He stood up, hands falling to the button of his jeans. You watched with hungry eyes as his pants and boxers fell to his ankles, revealing his engorged cock. The tip was an angry red, a bead of precum just begging to be licked off. As if it wasn’t enough, he sprayed a strip of whipped cream down the length.

“Think you can handle it?” He teased, slowly stroking himself and smearing the cream.

“Oh I know I can Berzatto.”

“Then c’mere and show me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

#sugatrapp #gender not specified #reader insert #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #kinktober #n s f w 🤫#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #birthday

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tigertan · 23 days

Text

neighborly favors and chicago cigarettes. [ jellybeans. ]

part two of said slow burn fic ^_^ this is mainly a snippet but there is some silly smut incoming in the full chapter oooops ..

part one [ mac n cheese ]

ao3 link

[ word count ; 1k ]

;; all fluff. awkward meeting again. carmen takes a strange interest in your nails.

your new acrylic nails gleamed in the cold sun of chicago’s morning as they curled around your steering wheel. a pretty candy pink, nothing fancy. they were short and blunt to maximize efficiency, and you’d always liked doing your nails.

with your new job starting tomorrow, you arranged a nail appointment early this sunday morning just to get it out of the way.

you rounded the corner of the apartment building's back parking lot and hopped out of your car into the complex.

despite your freshly scrubbed face and still damp hair from the morning shower, yesterday night’s chicago smoke lingered both on your skin and your memories. the mild hangover you’d gotten was bravely fought off with a fistful of tylenol and gallons of water.

after finally finding something in common with carmy, sydney rushed out and began apologizing for richie’s behavior, to which you’d reassured her it wasn’t a big deal. you’d just avoid him your entire life after that. because while you weren’t in the wrong, it was an embarrassingly public outburst that burned itself into those moments your brain would never let you forget.

sydney decided to take you home at that moment, and you didn’t complain.

you nodded a bye to carmy with a smile still stuck with a cigarette and he’d nodded back, unsmiling.

it was only after you’d wrapped the covers around you did you realize you never asked him if his name was really carmy.

oh well, you guys were neighbors. you were bound to see him anyway.

you hummed a song to yourself— specifically frank sinatra’s classic hit, rain in my heart— as you climbed up the stairs and turned the staircase straight into a brick wall.

but that couldn’t be right, because why did it stumble back at the impact at the same time you did?

the answer was easy; it wasn’t a wall. it was the tightly fitted cotton-shirted chest/face of your neighbor carmy. his awful brown jacket was thrown across his right bicep, and you could see his tattoos much more clearly. the numbers on his fingers weren't numbers, they were three letters of ‘SOU’ on his index, middle, and ring respectively.

there was also an inked flower on the back of the same hand, and further up his arm was a measuring cup carrying a globe. you noticed he had more but stepped back too quickly to discern others.

your nose stings lightly at the impact, and you raise a hand to hold it, eyes widening. a tiny part of you wonders if he is going to yell at you.

“shit,” you say, blinking.

“sorry, i didn’t see you,”

“are you okay— sorry,”

you both spoke at the same time, which pushed a smile out your lips, and you giggled. so he wasn’t going to yell at you.

“sorry,” you whisper, a grin peeking out from either side of the hand in front of your face. he blinks, the chicago morning sky making his already ice-blue eyes seem ever clearer.

“you uh— your nails,” he blurted, a muscle in his temple shifting as the words nearly burst from his lips.

it takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about, but you lower your hand and splay it out, the uv coat catching the light perfectly.

“oh! yes. nails. got 'em done a few minutes ago.” you explain, giving him another quick smile. “they uh, they’re nice. like jellybeans.” but the compliment, if you could even call it that, was stamped out with deliberate volume and a strained edge of a rather inept tone that creased your brow despite your smile.

“... thank you,” you reply, absentmindedly running your thumb over the groove of the keys in your pocket.

he watches your hand fall back beside you and then swallows.

“do you like—“

“is your—“

your voices overlapped once more, and this time he smiled too, curving into his left cheek and carmy released a singular, airy laugh.

“sorry. uh. you go ahead,” he gestured to you, flicking his eye contact from you to the floor. “yeah, sorry.” you grinned with genuine humor now, “is your, is your real name carmy? sorry, i just heard syd say that last night and i just…” you trailed off, the question sounding dumb and cold on your tongue now that you said it aloud. he blinked again. “uh. no— no. it’s a nickname. for– for carmen. carmen berzatto.”

he extends his hand out as if you had guys met for the first time. finding it endearing, you take it, a gel-nailed hand clasping the weathered, inked one.

“were you heading to work?” you ask, and after a momentary silence, he nods, then scrunches his brows and quickly shakes it, the oat-colored curls on his head bouncing.

“hm? no, just… heading out. kitchen doesn’t open until four today,” he replies, carding a hand through his hair.

you mouth a silent oh and nod back.

“well uh, it was good to see you neighbor,” you grin and step the side lightly, breaking the awkward yet giddy conversation that had transpired.

“yeah. yeah, you too.” carmen gave you a half-smile back, nodding a final time as he passed by you, his hair bouncing as he walked down the stairs, not looking back.

you did, however, watch until his curls disappeared behind the coffee wood and industrial metal of the stairs.

you realized you didn’t ask him what he wanted to ask until you’d slotted your key into the lock with a smile.

—

carmen slammed his car door behind him as he sat, cushioned in the faux leather seat, hands firm on the steering wheel. he stared directly in front of him, boring holes into the dusty red brick of the building wall, sky tinted a slight grey from the windows.

“jellybeans? really carmen?” he sighs-slash-scoffs, running a hand over his face before fumbling his keys out of the jacket pocket. brows scrunching, the man hesitates before putting the keys into the ignition. despite the faint alarm bells going off in his mind— they seemed to always be there anyway— he twists in the front seat to look behind him at the building entrance as if she’d walk out of the large, heavy-duty door at that moment.

for a moment or two, he stares. but the reality of it catches up to him in flushed, heated cheeks and brows creasing further. “fuckin’ stupid.” he mutters, finally shoving the keys into the car as the engine purred to life. it was odd how the light from yesterday’s cigarette had bent around her mouth despite the unforgiving fluorescence of the alleyway, and made carmen stare.

but that’s all. she was only enough to stare at, he concluded with a steely grip on the wheel. with the bear at its peak, how could he do anything but stare?

he pulls into the back of the bear’s parking lot with the recipe for a spaghetti alla carbonara stuck in his head and a smile stuck in the corner of his mouth.

—

for more / updates check out the ao3 !

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Text

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - part 8

Note: Shoutout to “Cribabyblu” on Ao3 who gave the idea for this MESSINESS.

Warnings/Tags: I’m not sure the tag for this/if it’s a specific term(?)—but a character dry-heaves in this chapter. Hurt/Comfort/Angst.

Synopsis: In the dark, static night, you answer a surprise call from Carmy and uncover dusty, fragile memories from the chambers of your heart.

Your bakery opens and everything goes great—right up until it doesn’t—and Carmy tries to be a good friend.

(Read on ao3)

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

You rolled your neck and adjusted the lapels of your fitted dark blazer. You had 3 days until your opening and here you were—about to interview on evening television. Your stomach swooped with nervousness while outwardly you held your composure. Your skin prickled with heat, though you couldn’t ascertain if it was due to the blaring white lights above or your growing anxiety. The news anchor smiled benignly at you while adjusting the papers on their desk.

You could do this. You were prepared in advance with the interview questions. It wasn’t unlike interviewing for a magazine or newspaper. The only difference was the cameras in your face and the microphone clipped to your white blouse.

“And we’re on in 3…2…1—”

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

Carmy hit the button to turn up the volume on the TV, but pressed incorrectly, and the channel leapt forward to the news. It felt as if someone slapped him. He held the remote loosely between his fingers as your face filled the screen. You were finely dressed, your face framed with dark mascara and dramatic red lips.

“The Mogul of the Midwest.” The news anchor said, “That’s quite the name to bear, isn’t it?”

His gaze dropped to your hands clasped on your lap and caught the shift in pressure as your knuckles whitened. He leaned forward with his arms on his knees, watching you, and the way your throat bobbed before you spoke.

“It was his title.” You smiled thinly. “I have no interest in trying to wear that mantle.” You laughed breezily, but it sounded hollow to Carmy’s ears.

“Really?” The interviewer looked surprised. “According to his final interview with Chicago Business Weekly, he spoke passionately about you continuing the family legacy and opening restaurants all over the country.”

“Even if I do that, I don’t think I could ever reach my grandfather’s level of acclaim.” You said it with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I mean, he was incredible at what he did. I think we can all agree that his level of genius only comes once in a lifetime.”

Carmy watched the entire twenty-minute interview. However, it focused on your grandfather and not you. The only mention of your bakery was toward the end when the news anchor plugged its location and opening date. You were the picture of poise and serenity, answering their questions with practiced grace. He finally understood what you meant when you called yourself ‘a practiced compartmentalizer’.

If he didn’t know you better, he’d say that talking about your grandfather was easy for you. But Carmen noticed the small, inconsequential twitches of your body language. The interview ended and transitioned into a commercial about garbage bags.

He couldn’t imagine being in your position and talking about Mikey to a bunch of strangers on live television. Not for the first time, Carmy considered the differences and similarities of your struggles. He once called you out for being privileged and self-absorbed, but he was reconsidering that hasty judgement.

That night in front of Lake Michigan you said—“My grandad was more of a father to me than my biological dad.” Your tone was earnest, your eyes glassy with tears pooling in your lower lashes while you stubbornly tried to blink them away. His heart ached in sympathy at the raw display of grief. You weren’t spoiled, or egocentric, you were just in the habit of putting up a wall—a barrier—to hide the fact that you lost someone important. He could relate to that. The only time he could talk about Mikey was in passing, and sometimes with Sugar, but that was it. He wondered how it must feel for you to talk about him in such a professional, confined setting.

He licked his lips and lifted his phone from the coffee table.

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

You scrubbed away the heavy, caked makeup from your face and felt human again. You weren’t against makeup and your bathroom counter could attest to that fact. However, the studio’s harsh lighting demanded a layer of heavy foundation, glittery blush, and contour to ensure you’d look as air brushed as possible before going live. You gently pressed a towel to your damp face and blinked water from your eyelashes.

The interview went well. You wished you could’ve talked more about the bakery, but the deal had been for an exclusive interview about your grandfather’s rich history. To them, your blossoming future was a footnote. A quick two-minute advertisement at the very end. You sighed, combing your fingers through your hair, before flipping off the bathroom light and returning to your bedroom.

Your phone vibrated and the sound only was slightly muffled by your comforter. Carmy’s name glowed across the screen with the option to answer or push to voicemail. Your heart warmed, and pulled a soft, shy smile from the depths of your soul.

You slid your thumb across the screen and answered with a confused, yet pleased, “Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice crackled across the electronic waves. You sank into your silk pillows and cradled the phone to your ear like a lover. What was he doing awake? Why was he calling? You tried to stifle the fluttery excitement in your stomach. Ever since that night, a week ago on Lake Michigan, you felt like you were on a collision course to combustion. Once the bakery was open, you decided you would pursue a true, serious friendship with Carmy. And if it manifested into something deeper, or something romantic, then you weren’t going to run away this time.

Because he made you feel brave.

“So,” He began, “I saw your interview.”

“Ah. Hm.” You shook your head a little at a loss for words. You hadn’t expected that. You didn’t tell him about the interview. Sure, it was common public knowledge, but you were accustomed to keeping things close to your chest. You nibbled your lower lip in thought, wondering if you fractured your early friendship by keeping it a secret, and a thread of nervous coiled up your spine.

He asked, “Was it difficult?”

You frowned. “Was what?”

“Talking about your grandpa in front of all those strangers?”

No one ever asked you that before. They were always too hungry for answers, for advice, for a little of his fame to rub off on them. Your eyes misted with tears and your next exhale ran raggedly out of your throat and past your lips. Lately, you’ve felt frozen by grief. As if you were in the same place you were when you got the call that he passed (standing in the airport with your heart bleeding out and dust collecting on your shoulders). His death had been sudden, but not unexpected. He was old with a well-lived and well-loved legacy, but you always hoped you’d have more time. Perhaps that was the nature of losing someone. You always looked back and wished for another hour, another week, another year. You blinked a few times and discovered that you were no longer in the airport, but sitting on your bed, with Carmy on the phone.

He didn’t say anything else, though you could faintly hear his slow breath. Maybe he fell asleep? You considered hanging up under that assumption but stopped yourself.

Your voice crumbled at the edges, “Carm?”

“Yeah?” He said the word so softly, so gently, that fresh tears sprang to your eyes. You picked at a loose fiber on your comforter and rolled it between your thumb and forefinger.

“Oh.” You sniffled. “I wasn’t sure if you were here or – or um - if you fell asleep.”

“No, no, I’m – uh – I’m here.”

The silence unfolded like a butterfly’s wings between you. It was serene, and poignant, and your breathing fell into time with his.

You swallowed, letting clear snot drip from your nostrils and tears spill hotly down your cheeks. It was easier to cry when no one was looking. Your sorrow, often frozen and confined to the box you trapped it in, bled through the cracks of your armor. Your bakery would open in three days. Three days and all the effort, drama, and headaches would pay off. You would flip that sign to ‘Open’ and finally prove to yourself—and to the world—that you weren’t just following your grandfather’s legacy. You were creating your own path.

“It is hard.” You whispered. You heard a shuffle of movement on the other end of the line, like linen shifting, and you imagined Carmy sitting in bed just like you were.

“To talk about him in one dimension. No one wants to hear about the person he was. They just want the version he portrayed to the public: the philanthropist, the entrepreneur, the Mogul of the Midwest.”

“I’m not going to sleep anytime soon if you want to talk about it- about him, I mean…”

You smiled and wiped your nose with your sleeve. “What do you want to know?” You asked with a small, quiet smile. A fragile bud of fondness bloomed in the center of your chest. You covered it with your hands to keep it safe and secret.

“Anything.”

“Anything…jeez.” You lifted your eyes heavenward to your ceiling as if answers could be found in the textured plaster and soft shadows on the walls. You could pick a thousand things to talk about when it came to your grandfather. His personality, his interests and hobbies, his travels, and tribulations.

“Don’t make it easy for me.” You teased with sincere familiarity.

He huffed a short, shallow laugh. “Okay. Sorry. Umm…” You heard a faint tapping, like someone drumming a pencil onto a wooden surface, and you bit back a smile.

“Did he cook?”

You chuckled quietly, unsurprised. “Sometimes.”

“What did he like to make?”

“God, I don’t know.” You tugged your fingers through your hair, “Gimme a second.”

“Mhm.” It sounded subdued, as if he had something between his lips, then you heard a click of a lighter.

You smiled, curling your knees to your chest, and resting your chin on them. The majority of your childhood, post-divorce, involved easy boxed meals especially if they were meals you could cook on your own while your mom was working late. Easy mac in the blue box, frozen dinners that took 5 minutes in the microwave, or PB&J sandwiches. But Carmy didn’t ask about that. He asked about your grandad.

“I only saw my grandpa during the summers and like, you know, the holidays.” You said unhurriedly, while tenderly approaching the memories of your youth with a gentle, tentative hand outstretched.

“But I remember he really loved grilling stuff. He had um—” You laughed weakly remembering, “He had a stupid fucking Grill Master apron that he’d wear all the time when cooking.”

Carmy chastised, “H-hey - don’t knock the uniform.”

You laughed with him, and your melancholy burned away, completely unable to survive in the warm, golden light of this conversation. It was nice to remember him. Not as the businessman he was, but as the grandparent. His silly grilling apron, his kind smile, the crossword puzzle on the kitchen island that he and his wife would complete together. Even after your grandmother passed away, a year before he did, he would complete half the crossword in her memory and leave the rest empty, unsolved. Even with your cynical heart, you always found that deeply romantic.

“What else?” Carmy prompted after the mirth passed and you lapsed into comfortable, easy quiet.

You laid your cheek against your knee, “He taught me origami.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised. You wished he was here just to see his expression—to see those waterlogged, blue tired eyes widen and his jaw softly drop.

“No, I’m lying.” You snorted. “Yes, really. I can make an entire zoo worth of animals.”

You set your phone onto speaker, throwing the covers off your legs, and leaving the coziness and comfort of your bedroom into your dark apartment to find a piece of paper. You rummaged loudly through your desk, opening and closing drawers, your teeth pressed into your lower lip.

“What are you doing?” Carmy asked, amused.

You replied primly, “I’m looking for a piece of paper with the correct dimensions.”

You hadn’t tried to make anything since he died. The creative process of pressing and folding paper was your unique bond, unrelated to business and legacy, something you shared with him and only him. Tonight, you wanted to share it with Carmy. You found a stack of cardstock beneath some old manilla folders. Your head bowed, focused, the triangles folding and unfolding beneath your out-of-practice hands.

“What about you?” You inquired with a lifted eyebrow, “Got any impressive talents I should know about?”

“I’m an okay cook.”

“Oh? Just okay?” You grinned. “Humility is such a turn-on.”

“Is it?” You heard the smile in his voice. “Good to know.”

“What inspired you to become a chef?” You crumpled your first attempt and started anew. Carmy fell silent and it stretched, dark and tangible, in the hollow spaces of your breath. You considered withdrawing the question and erasing its existence like a sand mandala.

“Mikey and I used to cook together.” He said, his voice brittle. Your heart stuttered then picked up in double-time. “That was our – um - that was our common ground and he taught me a lot.”

You considered the knowledge that it was Mikey who set the trajectory of his life. If the brothers never cooked together then who knows what might’ve happened – who Carmy might’ve been. A hundred thousand possibilities spilled out like loose yarn that led to a million unknowns. If Carmy wasn’t a chef, would you have ever met? How much was fate and how much was pure, dumb luck and coincidence?

His breath, erratic and trembling across wavelengths of sound, encircled you. You wouldn’t let him drown in his grief alone. Your heart ached from his admission, and you wiped the sticky, dried tears off your face. Even though you were curious about Mikey and their relationship, you wouldn’t pressure him to talk about this. You were grateful he told you anything at all. Like the practice of folding origami, you would need patience and a delicate hand to understand Carmy.

“Do you want to talk about Mikey at all tonight? Or should we avoid that topic?”

He cleared his throat, “No – uhm – no. N-not tonight.”

“Okay.” You nodded in sympathy, “In that case, you should know I finished my paper crane.”

You held the crane delicately between your fingers. For a moment, you were lost in the memory of your grandfather’s weathered, wrinkled hands gliding across floral paper. Every summer, your bedroom windowsill filled with paper cranes and flowers, fish and frogs, and vibrant butterflies. You smiled through the thundering, deep song of grief within your ribcage.

“Oh yeah? Cool.” He said, distracted, and you swallowed the sigh in your throat. If only you were in person then you could have nudged his shoulder or held his hand, using the act and art of physical touch to ground him and return him from the darkness. You worried your lower lip between your teeth and decided to keep talking.

“There’s actually this belief in Japanese culture that if someone has the patience and commitment to fold a thousand paper cranes, then they’ll be granted a wish.” You said while folding another crane, though you were uncertain if Carmy was listening. Since you couldn’t anchor him with touch, you hoped your voice would anchor him instead.

“Actually, now that I’m thinking about it…there was a summer where I tried to fold a thousand paper cranes. I think it was the first year after my dad, you know, bailed. My parents weren’t even officially divorced before he moved to Rockford to be with his other family.”

You didn’t bother to hide the disdain or the hurt from your voice. After moving to Cincinnati, you discovered that Rockford was a 90-minute drive from Chicago, and it broke your heart all over again to know that even when you lived nearby--he still didn’t bother to visit.

“So, yeah, I think it was either that first summer or the following one and I made so many goodman cranes. I wouldn’t let grandad help either because I thought that would be cheating and then my wish wouldn’t come true.”

“Needless to say, I was unsuccessful in my attempt to fold a thousand paper cranes.” You laughed a little, almost in disbelief, of how foolish and heart-sick you had been.

Soft-spoken, he asked, “What was your wish gonna be?”

You stared, unseeing, at the second paper crane with a lump in your throat. “For him to come home. For us to be a family again.” Your thumbnail flicked against the crane’s tiny beak.

You continued, “My parents always looked and acted so in love. And as a kid, I just – I guess I couldn’t believe that they weren’t together anymore, and I thought I could fix it with a magic wish. Dumb, right?”

“That’s not…” Carmy sighed. You imagined he was running his fingers through his curls. “I don’t think it’s dumb. You wanted your parents to be happy.”

“Mm, yeah. I did.”

“What would you wish for now?” He steered the topic of conversation to safer waters, and you were grateful. If you contemplated about your dad’s absence for too long, you risked developing an ulcer. It was an old wound, but it flared from time to time like a phantom limb. You weren’t intending on revealing such a private, personal aspect of your past. You trusted Carmy, though and it wasn’t like this story from your past could be used against you.

You leaned back into your desk chair, held the phone to your cheek, and smiled, “To have the best bakery in Chicago, obviously! The complete envy of all other bakeries. The crème da le crème of pastry shops. Oh, and it’s world-renowned and people want to film movies inside of it.”

Carmy exhaled shortly through his nostrils, “What were you saying about humility earlier?”

You rolled your eyes, “That doesn’t apply to me.”

“’course it doesn’t.” You hoped he was smiling. This evening would be a success if you made Carmy smile again. You slipped back under the covers, the sheets cooled in your absence, and rolled onto your side. You wished time would freeze and you could stay on the phone with him, talking about nothing, but time wasn’t that kind. You had a dozen things to do in the morning. Only two days remained until you opened.

“I should probably go to sleep now, Carm.”

“Oh – yeah – fuck.” He coughed. “I wasn’t—”

You interrupted before he could dig a hole of regret and self-doubt. “I’m happy you called.” You said earnestly, “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, you will, right across the street,” He said.

“Across the street.” You agreed.

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

Carmy walked into the Beef through the back, delivery door. Manny, Angel, Sweeps and Marcus were already here. Although, Carmy suspected that Marcus might be staying here considering he was wearing the same shirt from yesterday.

“Morning, Chefs.” He greeted before ducking into his office. Amidst the papers, unopened envelopes, and blinking unanswered voicemails there was something new. Something small and folded laid like an offering on the center of his desk. Carmy’s shoes scuffed against the tile when he stopped short.

He backtracked and craned around the corner to Marcus’ station, “Hey, man, did anyone – um – did anyone come by this morning before I got here?”

“Uh, yeah—” Marcus said your name, “came by to drop something off.”

Carmy nodded, “Okay, okay, yeah, cool. Thanks, Chef.”

Sweeps peered around the corner after Carmy left, leaning on the broom handle with both hands, “Are they together?”

Marcus shook his head and returned his attention to his donuts. “Hell, if I know.”

Sweeps frowned in thought then raised both his eyebrows, “It’d be cute.” He said offhandedly.

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his eyes on the paper crane, the memory of your gentle voice filling his mind. Being on the phone with you last night was a poor substitute to seeing you in person. But it was better than nothing. He carefully lifted the crane from his desk and placed it on the shelves overhead. It would be safer there. The fingertip of his forefinger nudged the small, sharp beak. Something unfolded in his chest - small and delicate as the origami before him.

He pulled his phone from his coat and texted you a quick; ‘Thanks.’

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

The morning of your bakery’s opening day—you threw up. All the nerves rattled your stomach and made it impossible to eat. Your phone buzzed with encouraging text messages from your friends, your mom, and social media notifications of people tagging the bakery in excitement. You paced back and forth within the L train’s cabin. You sipped water and stared up at the dark, starless sky on the platform.

It was finally happening. June arrived, carrying humid air, and buzzing insects, and the potential promise of success.

“You ready?” Dani asked, placing her hand between your shoulder blades with a slight smile.

You flattened your palms against the countertop and took a deep, steadying inhale. “Yup.”

And it went great. It went fucking fantastic, actually. You and your team were a well-oiled, functioning machine. You took custom orders for the future and sold on-hand cupcakes and cookies and scones.

As a ‘thank you’ to Carmy—you ran a surprise, secret promotion—anyone who came to your bakery with a receipt from “The Beef” could get a free cookie of their choice. Word spread fast on that one and you were incredibly pleased each time someone showed up with a grease-stained voucher.

In the buzz of conversation and delight, a voice carried to your ears. A voice you haven’t heard in years. The world came to a grinding halt as you beheld the sight of your father standing in your bakery – looking pleased and proud of you.

“D-dad?” Your stomach churned. He looked exactly the same. Exactly as you remembered—only his hair was greyer and there were lines on his face you didn’t recall. Your nostrils flared and your throat prickled, hot, itchy, and uncomfortable. You were going to throw up again.

He chuckled. “Hey kiddo.” A woman sidled next to him, her arm around his waist, and you could only assume it was his wife. His other wife. The woman he cheated on your mom with. He moved away to be with her. He had another family with her. He abandoned you and your mom because you weren’t perfect enough for him. Your hands gripped the counter for support.

“Marilyn saw your interview.” He said, walking up to the counter with cheer and bravado, “She shared it with me and well—here we are! Surprise! We came to celebrate with you.”

Marilyn smiled, all-white teeth and Midwestern hospitality. “We’re so proud of you!”

“And listen, I know it’s crazy last minute…” He squeezed Marilyn closer, “But we were hoping the five of us could get dinner.”

Your brow furrowed and you noticed—over his shoulder—the two teenage boys who looked a lot like him. They were undoubtedly your half-brothers. The fragments of a family you never met. And now they were here, in your bakery, your gift from the man who raised you, and asking if you could get dinner.

“They just graduated high school.” Marilyn explained, “and we know how college is a such big, expensive step. Maybe you can give them some advice? I’m sure they’d love to hear it, right boys?”

“Oh, come on, honey. We’re not going to talk about school.” Dad admonished, “Let them be kids for the summer and relax.”

He returned his attention to you, frozen at the service counter, with your heart and lungs spiked through with a dozen iron nails.

“To be honest, it hasn’t been easy…” He admitted quietly, out of earshot of his children and the rest of your patrons, “Marilyn got laid off this year and I just think it would be good for the boys to see how well their big sister is doing. What do you think, kiddo?”

You couldn’t stop staring at Marilyn’s hand on your dad’s forearm. You couldn’t stop looking at the wedding ring. What made her a better choice compared to your mom? Why couldn’t he stay and watch you grow up? What imperfection did he see in you that warranted such distance and silence after all these years? Your ears started to ring. At first, low and buzzing, and then it drowned everything else out like a swarm of angry bees.

“Excuse me.” You said hurriedly before walking with urgency into the kitchen, to the back, and into your office. The door slammed shut behind you and you collapsed, knees biting as they hit the ground, and your arms encircled the trash. There was nothing in your stomach to upheave. Yet, your stomach didn’t get that memo. You drooled into the wastebin with your stomach clenching, hot—surprised tears scalding down your cheeks.

You’re angry, and sad, and surprised, and sick – literally sick to your stomach – at your dad’s casual display of manipulation. He doesn’t want you to be a family. Marilyn being laid off, the blatant mention of college, it was just a set-up to ask you for money. You knew it in the same way you knew the sky was fucking blue. You gagged and spit into the empty trash bin.

He came here on your opening day.

He wanted to catch you off guard.

And you’re fucking pissed. You’re so fucking angry at him for the years of silence. He never came to your graduation, or called for your birthdays, it was like you didn’t exist. And now? Now that you’re doing well for yourself, and you’re established, and you created something from nothing—he turned up and had the audacity to try and bring you into the fold. The lost, forgotten daughter finally welcomed into their perfect little unit.

You sobbed haggardly and clutched the metal bin to your chest like a prized, stuffed animal. Your fingers trembled as you dug your phone out of your pocket and made an emergency call to your therapist.

“I’m sorry—” You blubbered as soon as she answered, “My dad just showed up. He’s fucking here and he’s acting like – like nothing happened! It’s my opening day. It’s my day and he’s ruined it.”

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

Carmy crossed the street with annoyance burning low in his gut. His restaurant had been swamped. Everyone wouldn’t shut up about the free cookie they’d get if they ordered a sandwich from the Beef. It was a fucking miracle they survived lunch service.

He had precious time before lunch and dinner to come and talk to you. He knew he could call or text you, but there was a chance you wouldn’t answer, and he didn’t want to take that chance.

Leslie bit her lip when he asked for you, “She’s um – she’s in her office…but…” Her dark, thin eyebrows pinched with concern. “Good luck if you can get her to open the door.”

Carmy frowned. Why were you hiding in your office on the first day?

He knocked on the solid, wood door, “Hey – it’s Carm. We gotta talk.”

You replied, “Door’s open.”

Something was wrong. He walked into the office and found you sitting on the floor, your back propped against your desk, with a dozen crumpled tissues around your outstretched legs. Your face was puffy, and your eyes swollen. Shit. How bad had your first day been? He shelved your concern for you to the side and focused on the business.

“What was with the fucking surprise promotion?” He asked, though the heat and anger faded from his voice, “You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that? Hm?”

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is – thank you for the free business.” You replied flatly with your bloodshot eyes glued to the ceiling.

He wished you would look at him. “We were fucking slammed and totally unprepared for it.”

You shrugged, “You survived.”

“if you want to collaborate, you need – you need to fucking talk to me!” Carmy demanded fiercely.

“I was being nice!” You shouted and finally aligned your gaze on his face. He was momentarily awestruck by the raw, painful sorrow etched across your features. “I was being helpful!”

He sighed, and though time was precious, he lowered himself beside you. “Just – please don’t pull a stunt like that again without clearing it with me first.”

“Fine.” You shrugged, “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, it was.” He said, searching your expression, and feeling like he was missing a vital piece of information. Nothing was on fire. Why did you look so heartbroken and why did it make his own heart ache?

“Sorry.” You said softly, “I won’t do it again.”

“Hey, wait, we can collaborate. I actually think – um – I think it’s a good idea…but I gotta know about it. Right?” He smirked, “You sort of caught us with our pants down.”

You stared straight ahead. “Okay.” You said without infliction or emotion and Carmy’s breath shuddered inside his chest. This wasn’t you. It scared him. But what the hell could he do? He could barely manage his own shit. He should just get up and walk away, go back to the Beef, and get ready for dinner service.

But he couldn’t leave you like this.

“What’s that?” He nodded his chin toward the thin business card you toyed between your fingers.

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

You considered lying then thought better of it. This was Carmy. You already gave him a look into the skeletons of your closet, and he hadn’t run away (yet).

“My dad came by.” Your breath hitched and you thumbed the hotel business card that Leslie slid under your door, pressing the sharp corner into your palm, “And it completely fucking unraveled me.”

You felt him go immobile and quiet beside you as if your announcement stole the breath from his lungs—and hell—maybe it had.

“And it wasn’t even like he cared about the bakery – I mean – not really. He just wanted money.”

You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from crying. You knew the human body was made up of something like 60 or 70 precent water, but you were convinced that you wrung yourself dry. Any further tears might lead to full body dehydration and a visit to the hospital.

You would’ve preferred to be angry. Anger was boiling, reactive, self-righteous, and clean. It had claws and sharp teeth. No one could touch your broken heart if you protected it with barbed anger. But by the time Carmy found you, you had wept, and raged, and dry-heaved until your stomach throbbed with pain, and all that remained was a scraped-out numbness.

The only anchor to reality was the warm, solid press of his shoulder to yours.

“I hate him, you know? I know you’re probably not supposed to say that…but I do. He tried using my half-brothers as bargaining chip – told me they just wanted to know how their big sister was doing – even though I don’t even know their fucking names.”

You scoffed (because the alternative was sobbing) and flicked the card against your knuckles.

You glanced at him, though you avoided his concerned gaze, “Do you have a lighter I could borrow?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

You appreciated his lack of questioning. If you had any emotional bandwidth to process anything—you might’ve felt a deepening affection for him. Your fingertips brushed as you accepted the lighter and your shattered heart fluttered. You kneeled in front of the trash and let the tiny flame catch on the card’s corner. You held the card until the heat singed the fine, light hairs on your knuckles and instinctively released it.

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

Carmy watched you and the small twin flames danced in your pupils like a dying star, like a grease fire. He couldn’t help but draw parallels of your relationship to your dad with his relationship to Mikey. You were just a kid, and your dad rejected you, made you feel imperfect, and lame, and unworthy—all similar to how Mikey made him feel. He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do, and felt helpless and useless in light of everything you revealed.

This was why he wasn’t good at having friends. He was good in the kitchen, on the floor, communicating through food and creativity. Time, as always, breathed cold down his neck. He needed to return to The Beef for dinner service. Yet, he lingered, and you rested on your haunches and scrubbed both hands over your withdrawn face.

You exhaled slowly through pursed lips, “I gotta help Dani and the others clean up. We’re closing soon.”

Carmy wordlessly got to his feet, accepted the lighter back from you and his fingers curled around yours for a second longer than necessary.

He swallowed and said, “He’s an asshole.”

You didn’t need clarification. You knew who he was talking about. You laughed, without humor, and shook your head. “Remind me to tell him that when he inevitably turns up again.”

Carmy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “H-he’ll show up again? You’re fucking kidding.”

“He will.” Your jaw clenched, something small and hurt crossing your features, like an animal with its leg stuck inside a steel trap. Carmy squeezed his fingers into fists at his side and stared at your back when you walked away, your voice false-cheery and light, teasing your team and joking about Ted’s hairnet on his beard.

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

Carmy doesn’t remember the last time he was this angry on behalf of someone else. Dinner service zipped by without a hitch, though he’s restless and on edge, his mind flashing to your face every thirty seconds. He’s seen you pissed off. He’s seen you happy. But he’s never seen you devastated before. He worked under the assumption that you had an impenetrable, core strength and nothing could rattle you.

The hotel name, with the room number written in sharpie, burned into the back of his eyelids.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying to Richie until the words are halfway out of his mouth; “I gotta talk to someone and I – I uh – dunno how it’s gonna go.”

Richie grinned. “What? You got a pediatric appointment?”

Carmy held the driver-side door open. He didn’t have time for Richie’s bullshit. “You coming or not, cousin?” His tone was brusque. A beat of silence reverberated between them and Carmy realized that it’s only Richie who he could trust on this little trip. Richie was a shithead, but he was also a dad who loved his kid. No one else would get it. No one else would understand Carmy’s vehement anger.

He yanked the passenger door open, “Jesus. Who pissed in your cereal?”

He refused to give Richie the whole story because it wasn’t his business. However, he told him that your dad—after years of being absent—showed up and started harassing you. As your friend, he couldn’t stand idly by and let it happen. He might not have words to comfort you, but he could do something. He could tell your dad to piss off back to whatever city he came from and leave you the hell alone.

“Are you guys fucking or what?” Richie asked while flicking cigarette ash out of the rolled down window. “Is that what this is about?”

“No! Richie.” Carmy rolled his eyes, “We’re friends.”

“What is this? The 1800s?” He snorted. “Come on, cousin. You can be friends who fuck.”

“It’s not like that!” He hollered. “Will you just drop it?”

Richie looked unconvinced. “Alright, fucking Christ, don’t throw a tantrum.”

“I’m just saying—” He bit off his words with a sigh, “I care about her, alright? Is that what you wanna fucking hear? And this is what friends do, right? They do crazy shit for each other.”

He leaned his elbow on the armrest on the door, slouching in his seat, and took a long drag of his cigarette. “Sure, cousin. Friends do that.” Carmy suspected he was lying and didn’t want to call him out on it.

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

Carmy waited outside with Richie after asking the front desk about your dad and claiming to be a friend of yours. Richie stood and smoked another cigarette right below a sign that read, ‘NO SMOKING’. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and he hid them inside his coat. He had no real expectations about how this conversation would go. Although, he was comforted that Richie was here (not that he’d tell him).

He paced in a small circle until Richie said, “You’re making me fucking dizzy, cousin,” and gave him a cigarette. It was another full minute before the glass doors hissed open.

“Well! You’re not who I was expecting.” A cordial, deep voice said.

Carmy brought the cigarette to his mouth, exhaling smoke as he talked, “Consider us the welcome committee.”

Your dad squinted, “So? What? You’re her boyfriend? Her staff?”

“No. I’m her friend.” He looked over his shoulder to Richie, who glared daggers at your dad with narrowed blue eyes. “We’re both her friends.”

“This is a rather odd way to accept my invitation to dinner, but the more the merrier!” He smiled, “I’ll text Marilyn and the boys. They’re at the hotel pool.”

“Don’t bother.” Richie cut in harshly. His finished cigarette bounced on the concrete sidewalk, and he ground it beneath his sneaker.

Carmy nodded. “Yeah, we’re not here for dinner.”

He returned his phone to his pocket, frowned. “Then why are you here?”

There was no finesse or decorum. Carmy just said what was on his mind. “You can’t come back to her bakery.”

Instantly, your dad’s expression hardened, and his eyes flashed with anger and confusion. “Excuse me? Did she tell you to come here and say that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Carmy replied.

Your dad sneered, “I never would’ve expected her mother to raise a coward.”

That single sentence made Carmy’s blood ignite. Of all the insults he might’ve thrown that was the worst and most inaccurate one.

“She’s not a fucking coward!” He spat. “You don’t fucking know her!”

“Look, pal. I don’t know who you think you are—”

Richie suddenly crowded into your dad’s face, taller than him by a few inches, “Weren’t you listening?! We’re her friends, you fuckwad!” Richie continued, shouting, “And you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up after what? Ten years? Twenty?”

“You don’t know my life, my choices, my sacrifices!” Your dad’s face flushed with anger. “How dare you!”

In retrospect, Carmy should’ve intervened sooner. He should’ve noticed Richie’s tense body language and flaring nostrils and the pain in his eyes. Richie hardly got to see his own kid. How must it feel to have someone standing in front of you who didn’t want to see their child at all? Their bodies collided in a flail of wild limbs and hurled, volatile insults. Richie’s open palm connected with your dad’s cheek. Your dad’s foot kicked out and hit Richie’s shin.

Carmy shoved his body between them, shouting, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Richie took a step back with his arms up in the air in surrender. Carmy continued yelling, “Just go home, alright? We didn’t come here to start shit. You’re—she doesn’t want to see you.”

“You can’t keep me away from my daughter.” He announced, lifting his chin with pride, as if he won this argument.

“Yeah, you do that just fine on your own.” Carmy replied viciously. He could tell the words cut like his sharpest knives because your dad’s face faltered—just a fraction—before he returned to scowling. Richie spotted hotel security through the glass windows and grabbed Carmy’s shoulder.

“We gotta go, man. Let’s go.”

Before they were out of sight, Richie flipped your dad off with both middle fingers.

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #fic: nothings gonna hurt you baby #ao3 #carmy berzatto x f!reader

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sunflowersteves · 10 months

Note

if you're comfortable with it, could you pls write something smutty about carmy getting off on reader telling them that they love him during sex??? i feel like hed be so into that LOL

you are so right, anon babes. carmy would absolutely lose his mind bc this man doesn't get enough love and affection. i swear.

pairing || carmen berzatto x f!afab!reader

warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, unprotected sex, soft sex, soft dom, creampie, [18+ only]

masterlist

You shuffled your legs underneath the fluffy comforter, accidentally kicking a sleepy Carmen in the process. You press a sleep-induced kiss to the hand that's tucked into your chest as an apology. He grumbles under his breath and tightened the arm that is lazily wrapped around your side.

"Carmy baby, we gotta get up."

He grumbles again. He desperately didn't want to leave the soft solace of your warm embrace. "What time is it?"

You look over to your nightstand and see the early morning hours. You and Carmen should probably get up to start your day at the restaurant. "It's 5:30."

He groans—the gruff of sleep striking against his throat that caused the sound to rumble against his chest. "We have plenty of time." He says, snuggling his nose into your neck and pulling your closer.

He breathes in, and a smile creeps up onto his lips at the pure smell and presence of you. You softly laugh, “Sure we do, bear."

You snuggle back into him and feel the way his body radiated heat. You know for a fact that if the two of you didn't get up right now, you would be rushing in the last five minutes of needing to leave.

He smirks slightly at the way your body doesn't move an inch despite your comments about needing to be up and ready. He doesn't say anything, just taking in your sleepy form and pressing light, affectionate kisses against our neck.

You hum at the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Your hand subconsciously moves to the back of his head and plays with his soft curls.

"Carmy." You whisper.

He gently moves your hips towards him so that your back can rest against the cushioned mattress. He looks down at you with such a content and affectionate smile that it causes your own lips to curl.

He presses up against you, and the weight of him feels just right. You let out a gasp as his teeth start to bite down on your neck. He nibbles gently on the soft skin, and you let out a breathy moan.

Carmen always seemed stunned by how much of an effect that he has on you. Don’t get him wrong, though. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it.

His hand gently caresses your thigh, and he squeezes the flesh—his thick fingers creating indents. His wet tongue easily glides to soothe the bites. “Carmy baby—” You breathe out again. With each kiss and grab of your flesh, the more hazy and fuzzy your brain feels.

"Mhmm.” He licks his lips. “Good morning, pretty girl."

You laugh lightly before gently moving his head down so you can give him a soft kiss. “Good morning to you too.”

You push a hand down from his curly hair and press it against his chest. You watch as the gold chain dangles from his chest. God, he was such a sight to be seen, you thought.

His fingers nimbly fumble with the hem of your panties. You start to squirm underneath him at the anticipation of his touch. It was always hard to think cognitively—or think at all—around Carmen.

“Please.” You begged. It was soft and encompassing, which made Carmen all the more melt inside.

He gently laughed but didn’t waste a second. “I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.”

He knew that you both had limited time. However, he still takes his sweet time at pulling your panties down the thickness of your thighs and down to your ankles. It makes you squirm even more.

His thumb pushes through your slick, wet folds. He practically growls at the feeling of your desperation for him. It makes his heart skip.

“So fuckin’ wet.” His thumb glides to your clit and starts to gently rub.

You nod. “O-Only for you, Carmy. I—” Whatever you were about to say got completely erased as a jolt of pleasure rushed through you. He had pressed his thumb with just a little more pressure. His eyes turned an even darker blue.

“Carmy.” You breathe out. It was a plead. It was a beg of his name. Carmen almost choked at the sight of you desperate and squirming. You looked so good like that. He wanted to keep you here like this forever.

He shoves his boxers down to his knees. The desperation was kicking into him, as well. He could feel his heart pound against his chest, and his cock was hard—pre-cum leaking down his tip.

“Ready, baby?” He smiles and presses a sweet kiss on your cheek. It was his way of attempting to wake you up from that drunken haze of pleasure. You breathe out a huff, which slowly echos into a whine.

He pressed his lips onto your cheek once more. “Ready, Carmy baby.”

He slides his hand over to your hip and steadies himself. He slowly thrusts in between your folds. You both moan in unison at the feeling of one another.

“F-Fuck me.” He groans. He could feel the way your walls hugged around him and squeezed. Your wet pussy throbbed as he filled you up so perfectly.

“Carmy please.” You beg again. Your head is starting to dip into that familiar haze once more. Your arm goes to grip the bicep that’s holding him up.

He thrusts into you again and again—deep and slow. “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby—ah—so fuckin’ good.”

Your walls clench at the praise, and he lets out a deep moan. You always fell into a puddle from his praise. “You like that, baby? Hmm?”

He hums against your mouth and then crashes his lips onto yours. His tongue immediately envelops yours, and they swirl together—the taste of Carmen and you evident on your tongues.

He leans away to look down. He could feel himself twitch at the sight of his cock disappearing into your tight, wet hole. You whimpered and gasped—something akin to his name. He let out a curse that muffled itself into a moan.

“I love you.”

His eyes snap to look from your hips to your face. Your eyes were closed shut, and your mouth was ajar. Whimpers and cries continued to sprout out of you as his thrust falters from your affirmation.

His hand moves to firmly, yet gently, grip your jaw. “Open your eyes.”

Your hand tightens around his other forearm. “Carmy—”

“Baby, I-I’m not asking. Open y-your eyes.” He demanded. To him, it sounded desperate, and he was. He was so desperate to see that twinkle in your eyes.

Your eyes snap open, and you’re met with his intense stare. It almost makes you want to close your eyes again, but you refrain. You let out another whine at the pure love you saw in them.

“Say it again.” He lets out a groan as he feels your cunt flutter around him. “Please. Say it again.”

His hips thrust into you—hard and deep. You cry out in pleasure, and he feels your slick run down his shaft and to his balls.

“I love you.” You whisper. You couldn’t help but let the fog take over and repeat the words, over and over.

“I love you. C-Carmy—I love you. I love you.”

He strangles out a moan before whispering the words back to you. “I love you too, baby—f-fuck. I love you.”

His eyes never leave yours, and he even lowers his forehead against your own. You say the words again and again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His heart pounds so loud against his chest that he hardly hears you. His stomach twists and swirls with complete safety and affection. He loves you so much that he feels as if he might burst.

He growls out a moan, and he pumps into you, again and again. Before he even realizes it, he could feel his cock twitch. His cum leaks into you, sticky and wet as it clings to your walls. “Oh fuck, oh fuck—shit, I love you. Please—” He rasps out.

You let out a gasp, followed by his name. He continues to thrust and he can feel the way you restrict around him. He moved the hand that cradled your cheek and presses deep into your aching, puffy clit.

You yell out his name, begging at him. “That’s it, baby. C’mon. Been so fuckin’ good. Cum for me, sweet girl. I need your cum.”

It was as if his words sent you over the edge. The praise, the begging, and the softness of his voice. It was all too much as he thrusts into you once more.

“Carmy!” You scream, the sound echoing across the apartment. You feel the high rush through you, all the way down to your toes. Your cunt flutters and leaks cum all down to Carmen’s thighs, even.

He gasped at the feeling of your and his cum swirling and mixing together. He was over-stimulated from the love he felt and the pure sensations of you. “Fuck—shit.”

He slowly stilled himself but never pulls out. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and nose. You just breathe heavily against him with a wide smile on your face.

“I love you so much.” He whispers. He closes his eyes, and he breathes in deep. He smiles, though, and opens his eyes back up. Carmen wasn’t sure about his life more than half of the time, but what he did know was that you are the best thing in the entire world. You.

“I love you too, Carmy.” You press a kiss on his cheek. His neck and cheeks were bright red. “So much.”

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

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neonovember · 11 months

Note

Oh my GOD oh my for okay though that new fic you wrote with Carmy? 12/10 chefs kiss mwah mwah MWAH!! 💕💕💕 That part with Carmy going ballistic and beating the shit out of that asshole customer I LOVED it!! Now it’s got me thinking of Carmen going absolutely feral, just insane if he’s in the kitchen cooking and calling orders, while you’re out front taking orders from customers. He and the rest of the kitchen just go silent and stop in their tracks when they hear a guy just screaming at the top of his lungs at you, using the absolute most vile words against you and Carmen just sees red, especially if whoever it is ups and yells something along the lines of “You stupid fucking whore-“ and Carmen’s just a blur as he POUNCES on this guy. (Richie’s either cheering him on or trying with all his strength to claw Carmen off before he straight up kills the guy)

Office Doors

Oooh you guys are spoiling me rotten with these requests…I love a good feral fic every once in a while and this one was..well you'll know what i'm talking about once you've read it ;) I haven't written Carmen in a day and I miss him already, school has been up my ass so if you have sent me a request, don't worry it's being written, and re-written and-. Thank you anon for getting my gears going and your lovely messages 🥰🥺 ur support means the world

warnings: swearing, objectification and misogyny, angst, oral (f recieving), smut, thigh riding (?), porn with plot, feral!carmen

carmen berzatto x reader!

(This is totally and completely canon btw)

You stretch your body across the diner tables, dipping a dirty cloth into lukewarm soapy water before rinsing it out. The lunch rush had just slowed to a even pace, the sound of Carmen yelling out dishes from his line finally quieting down.

You have just a little time to spare, and you spent that time quickly wiping down the Beef’s tables that had begun to accumulate a few too many stains and unfinished crumbs of bread.

You had grown up in a home that was always messy, all the time. And no matter how much times you had asked, and no matter how much times you had just done the chores themselves, the clutter of dirty dishes and old wet clothes in the laundry had permanently been embedded into your family home.

It’s partially why you had loved the sterile laboratory of you culinary kitchens. Clutter caused your skin to itch with anxiety, it made you feel dirty, and with the way you scrub the diner tables a little too hard you wonder if it's another one of the many joy’s your family had given you.

And whilst the Beef was so different from your environment back in culinary school, it wasn’t necessarily worse. In fact, you had grown to fall in love with the quirks of the kitchen, the ‘fuck you carmen’ napkin holder, the too small walkway, the framed pictures of beloved regulars and the staff’s families. Most of all, however, was the family you had built here, the kind you couldn't find working under a domineering CDC.

The kind that had always been waiting for you, been planted deep into the earth like roots.

Besides, you and Carmen had bonded together during the late nights after most of the family had gone home. Were you both were left, scrubbing the floor together in a rhythmic silence that seemed to be more therapeutic than work.

You’ve nearly finished wiping down the last of the stools perched against the counter top of the front when a loud guffawing causes you to break your trance-like state.

Jovial yelling breaks into the rarely quiet restaurant as the door swings open, and a stream of rowdy men dressed in pullovers and fleece jackets, with scarves and basketball hats of distinct sport team colours wrapped around their necks.

One man is fully decked out, sporting the jersey and beanie of what seemed to be a hockey team. The boom of his voice indicates he was the loudest too, unaware of the grumble of patrons around the restaurant that had grown annoyed at the man's violent rambling.

You breath out a sigh, finishing off wiping down the bar stools and putting the bucket of dirty water under the front counter. Before ironing out any creases in your apron and preparing yourself for the absolute headache this would cause.

They were a familiar bunch, usually coming in after games late after the dinner rush. It seemed there was a game during the early morning, as they grumble about not having anything to eat the entire day.

Their loud and annoying and swear too much and Carmen hates the way one of them looks at you but they order a shit ton of food and fuck if the bear needs money, what can you say.

Your eyes glance at a cup of coffee Richie had accidently left under the register, and you suddenly crave your afternoon pick me up well after the afternoon. The men begin walking up to the register, ignoring your polite greeting and going straight into listing off items from the menu as if you were a machine. You nod along all the words they were saying, and soon enough you give up on writing it down as they’ve practically ordered the entire menu safe for a few appetiser's.

“Make it quick, yeah? We’re bloody starving '' One of the men calls out from his seated position in one of the booths and you give them a tight lipped smile, resisting the urge to throw that coffee mug at him.

Carmen peeks his head from the entryway leading to the kitchen, his unruly ashy blonde curls falling to the sides as he shares a look with you, as if to say ‘you alright? And you nod in that unspoken way the two of you have and tell him that you can handle it. Working in a kitchen didn't have to teach you how to deal with assholes, you had your family to thank for that one again.

You hear the familiar sound of Carmen shouting out orders, and the sizzle of pans and boiling pots increase in order to push out the lengthy order before more foot traffic would pour in.

You’re trying to fix the register when it happens, something gets caught in the old janky machine, causing the cash drawer to get stuck as you have to hit its sides at a certain angle to get it to open up again. Years and Carmen refuses to get it fixed, or buy a new one all together, resorting to having it taped up and banged every couple hours to get it working again.

You almost don’t see him, until he is leaning against the counter, into the space between the cash register and you, a greasy smile pulling at his features and he watches you. You bite back a grimace at the way his eyes trail down your apron, fixated on the dip of skin that peeks from the top of your shirt.

“Something you need Sir?” You ask politely, taking a tentative step back, your hand gripping the edge of the counter.

The man smiles strangely at your comment, cocking his head to the side before replying suggestively

“I definitely want something”

You cough, biting back your knee-jerk response to hurl at him, you can feel the burn of embarrassment against your cheeks and you swallow as you try to reply with a steady response.

“You’re food will be out in a short-while-”

“You know, I think I’ve seen you around here, are you new to town?” The man tries to strike up a conversation

“Came here a few years ago and haven’t left since” You reply with a tight smile

“Ah! I know where you're from exactly now” The man replies with a grin that pulls his face upwards, it's eerie, his smile, like he knows something he shouldn't.

“There’s this porn star online, looks exactly like you, it’s kind of insane” The man replies with a smile that deepens as you stammer

You feel humiliated as you stare back at him, you don’t know what to say, and his eyes continue trailing down your body in a way that makes you feel disgustingly objectified. He’s reduced you to an object for him to gawk at, and you see the way the men behind him jeer and laugh that this is all a play to intimidate you.

You want to run straight home and scrub yourself clean, wash away the feeling of his imprinted gaze down the drain.

“You think we can recreate one of her videos when you get off work here?” The man replies, a glint in his eyes.

“What? You- you” You stammer and he breaks out into a laugh

“Awh, look at her, fucking shaking. Don’t tell me this is your first time?” The man eggs on to his friends, who have begun laughing and cheering him on.

You grit your teeth, trying to get the words out as you glance towards the kitchen, where was he? He leg twitches in want, wanting to get Carmen, wanting to run from the restaurants, wanting to run from the embarrassment and disgust you felt.

The flashes of Richie and Syd passing by is all you can see, the booming voice of Carmen being too wrapped up in the orders to notice what was happening.

“C'mon, just give me your number” The man presses on, leaning in so that only you can hear “It isn't like I don't know where you work” Before he leans back, muttering a halfhearted kidding under his breath

“You are disgusting” You spit out, trying to sound as confident as you can, and the mans eyebrow twitches, and he cocks his head like he was confused.

“What? I’m doing you a favour here, I'm actually a nice guy you know? Not one of those assholes on the street” The man scoffs, moving closer towards you and you have a feeling the man is waiting for a reason to lunge at you.

“Just, just take your food and your buddies and go alright? There doesn’t have to be a fight or-or” You continue, trying to de-escalate the situation and get him to just leave you the fuck alone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m doing you a fucking favour and now your kicking me out?” The man begins to get heated, and his friends behind him watch on in silence, you can notice other customers begin to look your way, sensing the rising anger filling the room. You slowly step back, looking for something to shield yourself in case he comes at you.

“What, you think because you work you have some- some what, control? I don't think you know how this works doll, you give me your number, and I dump my load in you because your nothing but a stupid fucking whore” The man bellow, it’s so loud that it echoes through the Beef, that it reaches even the kitchen sinks where Manny is washing up.

The man’s face grows red as the veins near his neck begin to pop out, he emphasises the last word, spitting it out like that was all you were.

The restaurant goes silent as the man heaves in exertion, the sound of Carmen shooting out orders is mute now, the slice of steel against bamboo stops, and the bear is fucking quite for the first time since it opened.

Your body is pushed against the wall, near the swinging doors into the Kitchen, and you can see Carmen back to you, he has stopped cutting at his station, and the outline of muscle contracts under his white shirt.

Carmen turns, slowly, he turns to the family, as they all momentarily stop their tasks in shock at what they had just heard. He begins to chuckle a little to himself, as he replies in a quiet voice you and the man can still hear.

“What did he just say?”

“Did he really say that? Did he really?” Carmen laughs to himself, nodding and gripping his hands into tight fists as the restaurant air gets thin. The man who had been screaming at you looks towards Carmen in confused fear, not knowing why this man was laughing and yet understanding he had completely fucked up.

The rest of the patrons can hear Carmen’s words, eyes widening, as they realise they were about to be collateral to a very one sided beat down. The crew looked at Carmen in silence, they had been used to Carmen's hot-headed temper, his bursts of anger that was more passion than rage. But this? This quiet silence of Carmen’s words, the way his chest heaves as you glances at your frightened position against the wall? They genuinely feared what he would do next, a silent rage like no other begins to envelop the restaurant, the air thin and suffocating as Carmen begins to walk through the kitchen and into the front counter.

“Don’t call an ambulance this time” Carmen mutters to Richie as he passes him by, Carmen’s eyes are fixed on you, trailing down your body before fixating on the shake of your hands. Carmen knows you well, and it’s the clench of your throat, like you're suffocating, like you can’t breath that snaps something in Carmen.

A malevolence Carmen has never felt spills into his gut, the burn of anger spreading against his chest until hes practically shaking with it, he is filled with this heart ache, like his heart is split in two and gushing as he realises his been cutting fucking chives whilst you nearly died.

And something predatory fills Carmen, like he must prove to himself he can protect you, and in one swift move, like muscle memory etched into his bones, Carmen jumps over the front counter and swings his fist in one clean motion, knocking the man across the room.

The man’s body crumbles as he slams into the hardwood floor of the Beef, the immediate groan of twisted pain and pleads leave the man's mouth and Carmen is just so sick of his goddamn voice.

It all went quiet then, the noise of Sydney yelling, of his friends, of the man’s heaving wet coughs, the air conditioner, all white noise. Carmen’s hand reaches for his ankle, dragging him back from his crawling escape.

“Oh, no no no, we’re not escaping now are we?” Carmen grunts, his voice lower than it usually is.

Carmen wraps an arm around his throat, holding him there as he brings down his fist across his face. The wet sound of bones crunching into muscle and skin go on forever, bouncing across the room until the throaty heave of the man is all that is left of him. Carmen cannot stop the swing of his fists, something possesses him and as one of the men in hockey colours tries to grab Carmen arm he throws him back into the stack of barstool's piled near the tables. He is facing his back to you again, and you state, fixated on how his body moves to support him, the contracts and outline of his strong back, his large forearms that break bone with a mere swing.

His face swollen beyond recognition, piss and blood leaking from him, eyes bloodshot and awry.

Carmen picks him up by his collar, the smudge of blood dripping down and staining his vest, whispering into his ear as the man’s eyes widen in harrowed fear.

“Apologise”

“..Whatnhn?” The man mumbles, the feel of his tongue swelling up and going numb, Carmen presses a hand against the man's bruised stomach, pushing against the broken bone of his ribs until the Man wails in agony.

“Apologise to her or I swear to god I’m breaking your fucking legs”

The man spits out an apology, but you’re not looking at him, staring transfixed at Carmen, at the way he’s golden curls fall across his eyebrows, at the way his muscles flex against his white shirt, at the way droplets of blood are splattered across the skin of his jaw. Carmen looks towards you, and something dark takes over his cerulean blues, blowing them out.

“Do you accept? Huh honey?”

You nod, letting an exhale out and Carmen tosses the man to a pile on the floor, reaching for your hand and dragging you to the office, you can hear the scatter of shoes as the men drag their friend out of the beef, and the crew looks towards each other in satisfaction, but also in knowing, in knowing they wouldn't dare open those office doors.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

“You didn't- didn’t have to” You mumble, your voice caught in your throat for a different reason.

Carmen looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement

“Don’t lie to me, you enjoyed that more than I did” Carmen whispers, leaning down near your ear, pressing his nose against the curve of your neck.

You let out a breathless sigh, and Carmen groans as he smells that familiar vanilla always hinted on your skin Carmen could smell when you passed by you. Now, now, he can practically taste it right on his tongue.

The truth was, you did enjoy it, despite being non confrontational and cringing every time Richie would show you a fight where the crunch of bone on gravel makes you shudder, you were transfixed by Carmen.

By the way he broke the man to a heaving mess with just his fuckinf fists, those same arms that are edging closer and closer to you, how would they feel between your thighs? The thought wraps itself tight in your belly, and you have to squeeze your thighs for friction.

No one had done that to you, no one had done that for you, and in a strange way it felt nice to be protected. To be wanted, and it causes a need to start building deep within you.

Carmen's eyes fall to you, and his eyebrow twitches as a look of guilt washes over his features.

“I should’ve been there, I- fuck, did he do anything? Let me get a look at you” Carmen replies softly, grabbing your wrists to look for any bruises he feared you had.

“I’m fine, just a little, uhm, shaken up you know? Said some pretty horrible things” You reply, scratching at your neck as your mind replays the way he had reduced you to a thing.

Carmen shakes his head, his teeth grinding as he grips his fists, his biceps flexing.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, deal with people like fucking him, I swear to god if I find him on the street I’m gonna-“

“Gonna what? Finish off the job? There is always going to be guys like him, that isn’t going to change, and it’s something I have to deal with. But what I can’t deal with is if you get yourself thrown into a jail cell because of-of me” You reply, shaking your head and Carmen looks at you like he’s in love.

Gripping a hand to your chin, Carmen raises it so that you catch the burn of his cerulean blues as you can see.

“And That would be an honourable death for me” Carmen mutters, and you can’t take your eyes off him, until you're gripping his blood stain shirt tight against your chest until the suppression groans leaving his mouth are kissed into your neck.

You want him, want to taste him on your tongue, want to feel his weight against it.

“Fuckin come here” Carmen groans out, reaching to wrap his hand around your jaw as he presses his lips against your own. The muffled of your moans escape your lips and Carmen slips his tongue between them.

His pillowy soft lips wrap around your own, his nose bumping into your cheek as he wraps an arm around your back, pushing you against the office doors. It’s all teeth and tongue, the clash of teeth and muffled groans leaving the both of you.

The suppression of both your desires falling between you two until you don’t stop to come up for air.

It’s addicting the way he kisses you, and you have to grip his shoulder as an anchor as he begins to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there before dipping down to your clavicle.

You let out a moan as he blows cold air against the dip of your breasts, and Carmen looks down at you, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you shiver, waiting for him to give you what you want.

Carmen rips open your shirt, his eyes trailing across the curve and dip of your breasts, he mutters something under his breath, something like “beautiful” as his finger trailing the lace before unclipping it and tossing it behind him.

Carmen cups one of your breasts, circling your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, you arch your back to him, and he follows it until he rests and your hip, squeezing the skin there as his eyes roll back at the taste of you.

“Please..” You groan out, your eyes watching the way Carmen pressing soft circles into your skin, he looks up at you in confusion, the hint of a smile curving at his lips.

“Please what?” Carmen replies, sucking bruises beneath your tits, drawing it out on purpose, having too much fun watching you suffer.

“Nmfha” You mumble incoherently when Carmen flicks his tongue around your nipple, whilst squeezing the other in his cold hands.

“I can’t hear you, what do you want?” Carmen replies with a hint of a moan, he’s having trouble himself, bucking his hips up into you as he watches the way you shake from his lips

“Wanna feel you Carm, wanna taste you” You groan out with a moan, Carmen grunts at your response, his eyes growing dark and heavy, and in one swift move, he hoist you up and swipes the coffee mugs and papers left scattered across his desk before placing you on the edge.

You spread your thighs, making room for him and he steps between them.

“You wanna feel me sweet girl? You want me to take care of you? Please let me take care of you” Carmen pleads, rutting up against you as he tries to suppress the want pressing tight against his jeans.

“Carm” you groan out as Carmen tugs your jeans down leaving you in your lace underwear that Carmen grinds his jaw at, you don’t realise it but Carmen blue apron is discarded somewhere in the room, and as he carries you towards the coach you tug at his white shirt.

He rips it off him in one move, and you drag your fingers across the deep of defined muscle that flexes under your touch.

Carmen moves your thighs so that you're pushed towards the edge of the couch, and he kneels between you, pressing a soft kiss to your knee, before trailing up your thighs. Carmen had been teasing you before but now there is a frantic eagerness in the way he touches you, like if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue he might combust.

Carmen hooks a finger into your underwear,pulling them down until you were bare for him. Carmen’s eyes glisten as he states at you, naked under him and sweating. God the image imprints in his mind and he wishes he can stay here forever.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, and your thighs shake in need, Carmen flicks his eyes up to you, and keeps eye contact, as he licks one long strip across your folds, closing his eyes and he groans at the taste of you. You contort you back at the pleasure the waves through you, eyes rolling back at the pressure of his tongue sucking your clit.

“Fucking- taste so” Carmen mumbles, before dipping his tongue between your folds, dragging it up and down, the sound of your heightened moans ripping through him.

Dipping his tongue in your hole, Carmen pushes a finger between your thighs, presses soft circles around your clit as his tongue works your folds. Your thighs shake around the curls of his head and he pushes a hand down at your stomach to stop you from moving, making you take every wave of pleasure he pulls from you.

“Carm, please, they’re going to hear us” You groan out, and Carmen shakes his head, causing his tongue to drive deeper into you, before looking up at you,

“Let them”

Carmen stretches you out with his tongue, pushing it into you and out until your heaving, his thumb is pressed against your clit, and he pushes a finger into you before sucking onto your bud.

You begin to see flashes of stars, as he thrusts a finger into your hole whilst sucking you, he scissors you open, curving his finger in a way that hits a particular spot that has you raising your hips, trying to pull yourself off of him, the white hot burn of pleasure getting too much.

“There baby? Right there?” Carmen groans out, thrusting his finger to hit that spot over and over

Carmen grips your hips, pushing you down, deeper, harder onto his mouth and fingers, pressing a second digit into you as he curves it to pull that sweet moan from your lips.

Carmen had many names, but his favourite was the broken syllabus of his own between your lips when you fell apart on his tongue.

“S’ close, so close Carmy, please” You babble out, before resigning yourself to the burn of pleasure the feels like fucking nirvana, it’s all around you, Carmen, this pleasure, it’s all you can taste.

“I know baby, I know, I’m going to take care of you okay, sweet girl?” Carmen groans, thrusting his hips into the floor, searching for friction as he watches the way your eyes roll back.

Carmen laps at your core, pushing the digits deeper, curving them upwards until you were screaming, he pushes your face down to look at him, he wants to see your face as you fall apart, and the coil that has begun to wrap itself tight snaps when he nibbles at your over sensitive clit and you see the way his dark eyes watch you, his eyebrows furrowed and your slick coats his chin.

You can’t feel anything but the white hot pleasure that rocks through you, you aren’t in your body, floating away in the pure saccharine pleasure of Carmen’s tongue and he laps at the pleasure dripping between your folds.

You mumble incoherent words, the only thing leaving your lips is Carmen’s name as you babble, spit dripping from your open mouth as you're left in a heap, Carmen leaving you dumb.

Carmen works you through your release, licking and sucking at your sweet slick that he gathers on his tongue. You see the way he thrusts into the carpet, trying to find friction as the scene in front of him becomes too much.

The thought splits something within you, seeing how Carmen got off to getting you off was out of this world, causing the pleasure to start building in your core again.

You drag Carmen up to meet your lips, and then push his tongue between your lips, causing you to taste him on your tongue. Carmen pushes his finger between his lips, sucking on the shine of slick coated there, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you grind your hips against him.

He pushes his digits into your mouth, groaning at the way you suck on them eagerly. You push him to lean his back against the coach, before manoeuvring your hips to straddle him.

You rock your hips against his jeans, feeling the way the indent pushes and bumps against your core, Carmen throws his head back, his curls falling over his forehead and he grabs your hips, pushing you deeper, down down down until he is thrusting up into you.

You grip his shoulders raising your hips before pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. Carmen forces himself to look down at you, his gaze watching the way you tug at his length, swiping a thumb across the red tip, dragging pre cum down the thick girth of him.

Carmen groans out, gripping your hips tight, and you raise up, lining yourself perfectly before sinking down on him.

Carmen’s groans are beautiful, rumbling from his chests as he squeezes his eyes shut, you fit so perfectly around him, the heat and warmth and slick of you wrapped tight around his cock. His length is thick and girth, and you have to adjust to his size, moaning at the way he fills you up just right.

As you begin to move, Carmen presses a hand, begging for you to wait

“Just, one second, fuck you feel so good I might cum from one thrust”

“Who says this is a one time thing?” You reply with a wicked smile, and Carmen groans loud at that.

You raise your hips, dragging your self on him before sliding down, your grind against him and he heaves in the pleasure of your tightness around him.

It had been so long, and the feeling of you is almost too much.

You struggle to raise your hips high enough, and Carmen wraps his hands tight around your hips before raising you himself, driving himself up into you and thrusting hard.

This new angle allows him to go deeper, and you meet his upward thrusts, groaning out as he fucks you dumb. You look gorgeous above him, the way your tits bounce with every thrust up has him hard all over again.

“Just like that baby girl, keep going, doing so fucking well, my baby” Carmen groans out, and you begin to shake at the combination of his praise the the feeling of his cock driving into you impossibly deep.

You want to make him feel good and you say this to him, causing his eyes to roll back when you squeeze yourself around him, hard, until his thrusts have to drive into you even harder.

The coach freaks loudly from Carmen’s pace, and he slams you down, positioning his cock deep into you, causing you to press half circles into your shoulder, scratching at his biceps and gripping the nape of his hair that causes him to rumble out your moaned name.

You can feel him getting close, his thrust growing sloppy and deep, you tighten around him, and his eyes are in a trance, watching the way you fit around him so perfectly.

Carmen moves to fold himself upright against you, and your eyes roll back to your head as you feel yourself climb up a familiar peak.

Carmen presses a hard kiss against your lips as you groan out, and as he slips a hand into your conjoined bodies, circling your clit you have to shove your fist into your hand to stop from screaming.

The feel of Carmen’s length driving into you and the sound of his ragged moans, mixed with the over stimulation against your clit, you can’t help but fall apart around his cock.

You squeeze yourself tight around Carmen, and he cries out, his thrusts growing slow as he joins you over the cliff, his cock thrusting up into you with spasms. His cheeks are a blush red, his tongue poking out as he follows both of your orgasms.

You fall against his chest, exhausted, pressing your cheek so that it rested against the hard muscle of his pecs. You swallow back a breath, gripping your hand around Carmen’s, as he brings it up to place a soft kiss.

Your thighs are still shaking from stimulation, and Carmen caresses a hand across them, rubbing soft circles and you lay across his chest.

You stay like this for a moment, basking in the bliss of pleasure and sex and the soft curves and dips of your bodies.

After a bit, Carmen has to slip his out cock from your thighs, eyes fixated on the way your ecstasy mixed with his one drips down your thighs.

“Fucking gorgeous” Carmen replies, and you look up at him in surprise

“What? You don’t think I'll find you gorgeous after this?” Carmen smiles down at your flustered state, he brushes back the sweat and tears dripping down your cheeks.

“That was..you are. Well fuck, Carmen, why didn’t this happen sooner?” You reply, he manoeuvres you so that your legs lay across his thighs.

“Yeah, uh, we’ll I’ve got a whole bucket of shit you don’t want dragging you down” Carmen replies scratching his neck, suddenly more shy as he lay his heart bare to you.

“Yeah, we’ll you gave me no choice when you practically murdered that man” You reply, biting back a smile, as you press soft circles around his thumb.

“Should’ve fucking murdered him…”

“What happens now?” Carmen replies, looking at you nervous that this was you just scratching an itch, because he was head over heels in love with you and he would never recover

“God Carmen, you didn’t realise I’m in love with you already?” You reply with a smile, “Practically the entire restaurant does”

Carmen looks up at you in wonder, his eyebrows furrowing as your words hit him hard. You loved him? You loved him. He wants you to repeat it a hundred times, he wants to hear your tongue say those words to him again.

“You are incomparable” Carmen mutters under his breath, before wrapping you tight against his chest, pressing a kiss that feels different now, less crazed and rushed and fueled by heated passion. It was new, it felt like a start of something.

“You think they’re okay out there?” You reply with a start.

“Hell no” Carmen replies, and you can’t help but laugh as you push your head through a shirt Carmen had passed to you.

You and Carm may have just confessed your love to one another, but you still had a goddamn restaurant to run.

4K notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 1 month

Text

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

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springtyme · 2 months

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Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Can also be read on ao3 || Main masterlist || Next chapter

chapter summary: You moved to Chicago six months ago. You still don’t really feel at home in a new city, far away from friends and family, but you make a new connection one night when your new neighbor almost set your apartment building on fire.

word count: 3.1k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. Set in season one. Vague mentions of Mikey’s situation. Reader is from Copenhagen, or has at least have lived there for a longer period of time, but it isn't directly mentioned that it's her nationality, and no description of appearance is mentioned. Reader's exact age isn't mentioned either, but it is implied that she is around Carmy's age.

"My head and my heart and my hands are longing I just woke up in smoke feeling the heat coming Cause the house is on fire"

Copenhagen, six months ago

The cool breeze from the water blows gently against your cheeks, and you can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia creeping in. The calm waters of the harbor glisten in the evening sun, casting a mesmerizing reflection on the nearby buildings. You take a drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke caress your lungs as you contemplate the big changes that lie ahead of you, the smoke swirling around you in a hazy dance. You’re not really supposed to smoke on the platform, but since the station is almost empty you let yourself indulge this one time. You’re leaving all this behind in a week anyway.

As you stand there, watching a lone seagull glide effortlessly above the water, its wings catching the last rays of sunlight, you can’t shake the feeling of bittersweetness that envelops you. Copenhagen has been your home for so long, filled with memories and familiar faces. But now, Chicago beckons with a new opportunity, and you’re leaving in a week, and you don’t fucking know if you have made the right decision or not.

You’re going to miss the ocean, that’s for damn sure. You take another puff of your cigarette, the brisk air mixing with the smoke as the golden sun slowly sets over Nordhavn. The colors of the sky shift to hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the water. The beauty of the moment is not lost on you, but neither is the weight of the decision you’ve made.

These thoughts swirl in your mind as you take a last drag of your cigarette, exhaling slowly as if trying to let go of all your worries. The sound of the approaching train brings you back to the present. You stub out your cigarette, before the red train comes to a stop in front of you, cutting off the view of the water.

With a deep breath, you gather yourself and step onto the train. As the doors close behind you, you find a seat by the window. The familiar rumble of the tracks beneath you lulls you into a sense of calm as the train begins to move. As the train starts to pick up speed, you close your eyes. It’s going to be hard to leave it all behind and start over in a whole new city, but you know deep down that you’re in need of a change.

· · · · ·

Chicago, present day

Carmy can feel the building pressure at the sides of his skull that indicates that a nasty headache is on its way. The wet rag in his hand is feeling mushy between his fingers as the scrubs away at the steel countertop, the rhythmic sound of Gary’s broom sweeping over the floor, matching up with the incipient throbs in his temples.

He needs a fucking break and a cigarette, but he can’t really take one now, he is the one who has been so insistent that they start to take prepping and cleaning of their stations more seriously and he can’t just, fucking, leave in the middle of it, he’ll get the bottle of tylenol in the desk drawer in his office after they’ve finished.

“Chef, you want me to strain that oil for you?” Sydney asks, her voice cutting through Carmy’s pounding head.

“Uh, no, no I got it. Thank you, chef.” He’ll finish his station, strain the oil, and then take a break. Unless something else comes up, which there most likely will.

“Why am I using a toothbrush, chef?” Marcus asks from his place at the stove where he is scrubbing the burners.

Carmy blinks, trying to push aside the growing migraine as he explains, “It’s about consistency and being consistent. Can’t operate at a higher level without consistency.” He can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for pushing his team so hard with all these new changes, but he knows they need to seriously step up their game if this place is ever going to be just a little less of a shit show.

“I like this level,” Richie exclaims.

“Yeah, well, at The French Laundry you know how much time we’d spend-” Carmy begins, but Richie cuts him off.

“Well, go fuck your French Laundry. Stupid fucking name.”

And yeah, Richie might be right, it kind of is a stupid name, but Carmy is not about to start a discussion over the fucking name of a French-Californian fusion place. “All right, then at Noma.”

“Fuck your Noma too,” Richie retorts.

Carmy just shakes his head, deciding to let Richie’s attitude slide for now. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, not with the pain in his head steadily increasing.

“Noma’s the shit, huh?” Marcus chimes in.

“The best,” Carmy and Sydney respond in unison before Carmy continues. “It’ll teach you to operate at a level you didn’t even know you could operate at, Marcus,” he tells the baker before turning to address Richie again, “And just so we’re clear, I wanted to work here. Mikey wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, no, no. You went halfway around the world to learn all this fancy, useless fucking bullshit. I went to West Lawrence Avenue and learned every level.”

“West Lawrence? You’re talking about DeVry?” Marcus asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, exactly,” Richie confirms.

“Oh, DeVry. ‘We’re serious about success,’” Marcus jokes, using an exaggerated deep voice.

“Is that supposed to be fucking funny, fucko?” Richie grins at Marcus before jokingly trying to tackle the younger man who by now has bursted into laughter. “Let me tell you something. No for real,” Richie lets go of Marcus pointing his finger in the air as he continues. “Where else are you gonna learn crucial database management specialization skills, huh? While troubleshooting a vented OptiSpark distributor in a Trans Am?”

“I would never need to learn that,” Syd interjects, not pleased with Richie’s antics.

“Definitely not Noma!” Richie exclaims.

“I would legit do anything to go to Noma,” Sydney says longingly.

“And eat bugs?!” Richie teases.

Those ants had been a fucking pain to work with, but Carmy keeps that to himself, he is not about to give Richie that victory.

“And be inspired, stupid,”Sydey retorts.

“God, and be lame.” Richie counters.

But before more can be said about DeVry or inspiration or, fucking, bugs, Ebra storms into the kitchen, interrupting them. “The ice cream machine is broken!”

Just like Carmy had predicted, something else had come up. He turns to Richie. “DeVry teach you to fix that?”

“You know what? Actually, yes.” Richie says, swinging his dish towel over his shoulder before starting to pick up a bunch of random tools and utensils, including two wooden spoons, leaving the room to join Ebra at the ice cream machine.

Another fucking thing in this place that doesn’t work, Carmy should probably just call Fak before Richie can break it even more, but it is not like the old machine can really get much worse, it’s and old piece of shit and almost no one ever orders the ice cream anyway, so why not let Richie feel a little useful.

· · · · ·

A swirl of steam dances in the air as you trace the rim of the mug with your finger, the aroma of the tea is filling the room, mixing with the scent from the lavender candle you have lit, enveloping your senses with a bittersweet nostalgia.

You are sitting in your kitchen, staring out of the window, another night unable to sleep. The vague sound of the city filters through the glass along with the warm glow from the street lights and signs which are the only cause of light along with the candle, its flickering flame casting a gentle shadow upon the room.

You take a sip of the tea, feeling the warmth travel down your throat, before wrapping your hands around the warm mug, seeking comfort in its gentle heat. The steam rises and dissipates into the air, mirroring the ephemeral pattern of your tired thoughts. Outside the window, the city continues its nocturnal rhythm, its heartbeat resonating with your own. The distant sounds of car horns, and the occasional sound of the L train rumbling by and the vocational sirens mixing together into a harmonious cacophony.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but you open them again quickly, wrinkling your nose. Something suddenly smells wrong… It’s vague, but it’s like burning plastic or something. You quickly look down at the candle to check if something got into it, but nothing is there. You don’t get to ponder more about it though, before a sudden, piercing sound slices through the tranquil ambiance of your kitchen. Your eyes widen in surprise as the shrill wail of a fire alarm blares from the apartment next door.

Concerned, you immediately put down your mug, while the smell of smoke starts to get more intense. This would normally be worrying enough, but what’s the real kicker to your concern is that no one’s lived in the apartment next to yours in the last four months. You stand up, stepping into your slippers while grabbing the zip up hoodie you had hanging on the back of your chair. You quickly throw the hoodie around you, slipping your arms into the sleeves and wrapping the oversized garment around you, not bothering zipping it.

You blow out the candle, as you quickly grab your phone, sliding it into the pocket of your sweatpants. You Swiftly make your way through your apartment, stepping out into the hallway, the smell of smoke now stronger. The ear-splitting beeps of the fire alarm continue to echo through the corridor as you approach the door of your neighboring apartment. You hesitate for a moment, You try to listen if you can hear anything from inside, but all you can hear is the sound of the alarm.

Has someone really moved in without you noticing? But how likely is it that a spontaneous fire starts in an unoccupied apartment? Raising your hand you knock on the door. Nothing happens, and panic grips your chest, thoughts of evacuation and calling the fire department race through your mind, but you are pulled out of your spiraling thoughts as all of a sudden the loud beeping stops and you can now hear a vague shuffling sound from inside the apartment.

You knock again, your heart beating fastly as you wait. There is someone in there, and you both get worried that they might not be okay and need help while you simultaneously feel weird about someone being inside the apartment you thought was empty.

The seconds stretch as you wait for a response. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, but in reality only is a few seconds, the door creaks open, revealing a disheveled figure standing before you, and you are met with a pair of eyes so piercing blue that it catches you off guard. They belong to a man, around your own age if you have to guess, dirty blonde curls framing his face in a messy, yet oddly charming way.

He is wearing a white t-shirt, which you can’t help but notice is hugging his biceps extremely nicely, with tattoos scattered across his arms and hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a look on his face that screams of pure exhaustion, yet his eyes are wide and alert, like someone who has just been woken abruptly.

“Hi,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man. “I heard the fire alarm and smelled smoke, I just wanted to check that everything was okay, I-I live next door,” you say, sheepishly pointing in the direction of your door.

“Oh, hi,” the man replies, his voice slightly hoarse and rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while, yet soft. “I-I’m so sorry if I woke you. I… I accidentally burnt some shit, I’m sorry,” he says a bit bashfully, his cheeks turning slightly pink. A short moment of silence hangs between you both as you process the situation.

You can see the genuine embarrassment in his eyes, which brings a sense of ease to your worried mind. He seems harmless enough, just a regular person who made a mistake. You decide to let him off the hook, even though his explanation doesn’t quite match up with the intensity of the burning smell that fills the air, offering him a supportive but also slightly shy smile. “Accidents happen, don’t worry about it. I’m a terrible cook too,” you say, trying to lightning the mood.

“Well, I’m actually a chef,” he says a little awkwardly.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mea-”, you stammer, trailing off as you realize your unintentional insult, but he cuts you off in the same sheepish tone as you.

“No, no, it’s fine I didn’t mean…” he begins to say before shutting up mid sentence, and the two of you share a brief, awkward but understanding laugh before another silence settles between you.

Now that you have been made sure that nothing urgent is going on you take a second to take him better in, and you can’t help but notice how attractive you find him, captivated by the piercing blue eyes and intrigued by the subtle tattoos that peek out from under his short sleeves, now realizing that several of them are kitchen themed.

“So, everything’s under control now?” you ask, tearing your gaze from his arms as you realize that you had been staring for a little too long, glancing past him into the apartment. The lingering scent of smoke still hangs heavily in the air.

He nods, running a hand through his rumpled locks. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine now,” he reassures, but the smell of smoke still hangs very heavily in the air.

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to invite him into your apartment while his gets aired out. You don’t know him, and inviting a stranger into your apartment in the middle of the night isn’t really ideal, but something about his tired eyes and disheveled appearance tugs at your heartstrings, and you can’t shake off the feeling that he might need some company. And with the tired, almost haunted look in his eyes you also can’t help but be reminded of Michael.

Michael had lived in the apartment next to yours when you moved in six months ago. You did not know him well, but he had always been friendly when you talked to him. He seemed like the type of guy who is friends with everyone, despite it being clear that he was dealing with some internal shit.

One night you had encountered him in the hallway and he had seemed off. You were on your way home, and he was on his way out. He appeared caught off guard by your presence, and after you greeted him, he had just turned around and walked back into his apartment instead of leaving the building like he was supposed to. Little did you know that it was the last time you would see your old neighbor. A week later, you learned that he had tragically taken his own life on the State Street Bridge, just five days after your last encounter in the hallway.

You have thought about it a lot for the past four months: how he might have planned to go to the bridge the night you ran into him in the hall, and how, if you had done the same just a few days later, things might have turned out differently for him.

You don’t want to assume that your new neighbor’s situation is as dire, but you also don’t want to underestimate the impact a small act of kindness can have and now, seeing this man standing before you with a similar look of exhaustion and vulnerability, you can’t help but feel a sense of responsibility to offer him some support.

“Hey, um... I know this might sound a little strange, but if you need a place to stay while your apartment airs out, you’re welcome to come to my place,” you offer, your voice filled with genuine concern.

The man’s tired eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by your unexpected invitation. “That’s incredibly kind of you, but I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep because of me,” he responds, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of hesitation.

You are quick to shake your head, realizing that you never told him that he didn’t wake you. “Oh, you haven’t made me lose any sleep, I was already awake, so please don’t worry about that.” The man’s shoulders relax a bit, a little of the tension melting away. He takes a moment to consider your offer, his gaze flickering between your face and the open doorway of his smoke-filled apartment. The exhaustion in his eyes is undeniable..

“No pressure,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “But, seriously you are more than welcome, I can make some coffee, I got both normal and decaf, or some tea. I also have some leftover takeout in the fridge, I could need some help to get eaten, if you’re hungry.”

The man’s hesitant expression softens, and he offers a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I don’t want to impose, but coffee does sound really good.”

You nod understandingly. “Of course, no imposition at all.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll just get some of these windows cracked open then,” the man says, stepping back into his apartment and disappearing from view for a moment. You hear the sound of windows being opened, the crisp night air filtering in and mingling with the heavy aroma of smoke.

You turn your head, for some reason you feel a little rude to stand staring into his apartment even though you just invited him into yours, your eyes landing on the nameplate next to the door. Berzatto. It has not been changed since Michael.

After a few moments, the man reappears at the doorway, now holding a light jacket under his arm, and his keys, phone and a pack of cigarettes in his hand. His disheveled appearance remains, but there’s a glimmer of gratitude in his tired eyes.

“Ready to go?” you ask, offering a reassuring smile.

He nods, stepping out into the hall with you.

“You know, uhm,” you say, pointing at the nameplate. “You can talk to the resident manager.” His eyes following the direction of your finger. “He’ll help you get your name up.”

“Oh, no that’s… that’s me,” he says, sheepishly pointing at the nameplate. “Well, it’s also me,” he explains, a little clumsily, before turning to you again. “I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno

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