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On the Couch
Quick daydream... of the one and only Carmy Berzatto.
Warning: SMUT (couch sex)
He's staring up at you. Your eyes closed, lips apart. Pleasure written all over your face. Both of you on the couch, skin to skin.
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He couldn't stop staring you as you bounced up and down on your knees and rocking back and forth on his dick from time to time.
His hands grip your waist, supporting you. Both of you feel the beginning of the climb.
He brought his head down, flicking his tongue against your hard nipple. He couldn't resist them. His rough fingertips grazing the soft skin on your neck.
"That's it, pretty girl.... that's it -" He grunted the last part, feeling your walls clamp around him.
Your breaths got deeper the closer you got. Your eyes opened softly, landing on his blown out ones. You felt his hands wrap around the back of your neck, bringing your face down to his and enveloping his lips. Your kiss is eager and sloppy.
"Y-you gonna cum pretty girl?" He breathed searching your eyes.
You nodded immediately, feeling the head of his cock, hit that perfect angle that drove shivers down your spine.
He could feel your thighs begin to shake. That's all he needed.
In that moment, he wrapped his hand around your neck as if it were second nature. Tightening his grip on both sides.
"Look at me," He stated his eyes never leaving yours, watching you become undone before him.
"Imma c-"
"Do it, let go, pretty girl." He flickered his eyes down for a moment.
His eyes watching his cock disappear in you.
"I-i feel you" He moaned, keeping his hand on your throat, his eyes back on yours.
Both you were crumbling into each other. Dragging pleasure out of one another. Your hips crashing down on his. Your labored breaths filling up the room.
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do you think about vampires. have you thought about vampires. will you think about vampires. when will you think about vampires
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what did doja cat say about big noses again ???
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it’s well established by the tumblr community that carmy’s fav position is missionary but i reallyyy think he’d like doggy style too can you indulge me? pretty pleaseeee
This man will do whatever you ask him. However! I do have to say he’s still not going to be into “traditional” doggy. He’s just not touching you enough that way. There’s not enough skin to skin contact ( remember I think one of his love languages is 100% touch).
He prefers it when you’re practically lying flat on your stomach. He wraps his arms around your lower belly to keep your hips up. This position lets Carmy pull you up enough that your back presses into his chest.
It gives him perfect angle to thrust deep inside of you. Mind numbingly deep. He kisses and bites at your neck while his hips move faster and faster inside of you.
When he feels you getting close, he lets one of his palms travel down to right below your navel before pressing down firmly. You whine as you realizes when he’s doing. “Can you feel that? Feel how I’m stretching you out? You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl.” He groans into your ear.
Once you cum he’s most definitely pinning your body down, pressing your head into the pillow in front of you. His pace is wild and reckless as he chases his own high.
Don’t get me started on the cuddling that will take place afterwards because Carmy feels bad about pressing your head down in the heat of the moment. You have to reassure him over and over again that it was okay, and also very hot!
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it’s well established by the tumblr community that carmy’s fav position is missionary but i reallyyy think he’d like doggy style too can you indulge me? pretty pleaseeee
This man will do whatever you ask him. However! I do have to say he’s still not going to be into “traditional” doggy. He’s just not touching you enough that way. There’s not enough skin to skin contact ( remember I think one of his love languages is 100% touch).
He prefers it when you’re practically lying flat on your stomach. He wraps his arms around your lower belly to keep your hips up. This position lets Carmy pull you up enough that your back presses into his chest.
It gives him perfect angle to thrust deep inside of you. Mind numbingly deep. He kisses and bites at your neck while his hips move faster and faster inside of you.
When he feels you getting close, he lets one of his palms travel down to right below your navel before pressing down firmly. You whine as you realizes when he’s doing. “Can you feel that? Feel how I’m stretching you out? You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl.” He groans into your ear.
Once you cum he’s most definitely pinning your body down, pressing your head into the pillow in front of you. His pace is wild and reckless as he chases his own high.
Don’t get me started on the cuddling that will take place afterwards because Carmy feels bad about pressing your head down in the heat of the moment. You have to reassure him over and over again that it was okay, and also very hot!
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TWILIGHT: NEW MOON 2009, dir. Chris Weitz
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Tw: Claire
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Hi I know I’m a bit crazy but I cannot stop staring at the spit that connects their mouths for half a second?? Like oh my god I just need to messily make out with him so bad I just AHHHHHH. The way this man would make out with you BYE.
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CARMEN "CARMY" BERZATTO in every episode of THE BEAR (2022 — PRESENT)
2.01 “BEEF”
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cw blowjob, degrading..? but he’s saying it in a praising way i accidentally deleted this a couple of days and finally got around to reuploading
“you’re so nasty.” carmen murmurs, watching with blown pupils as you suck him off sloppy like you both like it.
lips slick and shiny, you kiss his tip and down his shaft, flashing your eyes up to his as you lick pretty over his balls, mouth open and tongue out, humming exaggeratedly with each glide of your tongue, your hand wrapped around his cock.
he’s in fucking awe, big tatted hands moving your curls out of your face and cupping the side of your face as you lick up the underside of his cock, letting your nose and tongue trace the veins there.
“sshittt,” he groans with gritted teeth and he throws his head back onto the wall behind him, but he couldn’t stop watching you even if he wanted, so he’s focusing his pretty blue eyes on the way you place another kiss on his tip.
and then, you take him all the way in, and it feels so good he almost loses it.
“fuckin unreal.” he whispers, and his hips jerk just a little, send his tip hitting the back of your throat.
and fucking god, you’re chasing that shit.
titling forward, you’re trying to keep him deep, keep him down your throat
he clocks it as soon as you do it, and— “you want that? want my fuckin’ dick back there?” and you do, so you’re taking him as far as you can, and he’s. . he’s gone. “you’re fuckin’— fuckin’ nasty. so- fuck.”
you feel nasty, but it feels good, feels so good to be seen like this by carmen.
he fucks into your mouth again, on purpose this time, and the determination, the glint, the arousal in your eyes has his feelings flowing out through his mouth. “want you to fuckin’ choke on it, can feel the back of your thro- fuck.”
again he pushes himself into your throat and you gag and moan around his cock, clawing at his stomach and the pretty curly hairs that frame his dick.
he shakes his head in disbelief, in reverence, cause what the fuck. chuckling almost incredulously. “no fuckin’ way,” slips from his mouth, and he watches tears well up and slide down your face, so fucking turned on and keyed up from watching you slut yourself out for his dick.
he finds a pace and you nod around him, letting the sound of his tip hitting the back of your throat ring out through the room. it’s fucking disgusting, the way spit drips down your chin, the way your glazed eyes are focused on his face, on his pretty fucking face, the way he’s unraveling at the feel of his dick hitting the back of your throat, at the sight of you on your knees sucking him off messy.
“so pretty,” he groans, big blues fixed on your eyes, big hands in your hair and on your face, “fuckin’ shit.”
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fictionalmenmakemecry · 2 months
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fictionalmenmakemecry · 2 months
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fictionalmenmakemecry · 2 months
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carmy sexting or carmy having reader sexy pics saved in his phone
nsfw under cut!!!
he has so so so many pictures of you on his phone.
ones of you smiling at the camera with ice cream on your nose.
a picture of you in front of christmas lights he couldn't help but take.
or, the ones tucked so far into his hidden album that no one else would ever be able to see. pictures he only used on days like this. weekends where you were whisked away by your sister for her bachelorette weekend.
you being gone for more than two days had taken it's toll on carmy, ruining his attitude, his days, and especially his nights.
he snuck into his hidden folder after a long day at the restaurant, yelling at richie a little louder, dragging his feet a little more, just because he missed you. missed your smile, you eyes, your scent, your tight warmth.
it all drove him to lay on your side of the bed with his hand dipped down low with your eyes staring back at him.
your eyes bore into his own as his hand drags across his length, the picture he chose was one of you from a higher angle. one he took of you.
you had one of his shirts hiked up over your breast with your middle and ring finger plunging into where he so desperately wanted to be. his hand picked up pace as he swiped through the folder. letting out an almost guttural moan at what he saw, a shot you took of his cock plunging into your dripping wet cunt.
he kept swiping until he found what he was looking for, scrolling through videos of him entering you from behind, pictures of you blowing him, videos of him eating you, and pictures of his tattooed hand gripping onto your loved on breast.
jackpot, he thought.
he landed on the video he took of you the night he had gotten your name tattooed on the top of his thigh. inches above where you were dragging your cunt, truly showing him you were his.
his precum was dribbling out of his head, acting as lubrication as he continued the act. turning up the volume to hear your moans of "please carm."
and his responses of, "my good girl, keep goin' pretty." and "show me who you belong to."
he timed his thrusts into his hand so we could finish with you, his cheeks were a bright red and his breaths were heavy. he's watched the video so many times he knows, he only has about thirty more seconds until he'll be able to cum. cum with you, his pretty girl.
your moans of his name matched up with his own as you completed on his thigh, and him into his own hand. his chest was heaving as he was brought back into the real world.
where he was, without you.
he retracted his hand from his now half-hard cock, still aching for you. carmen exited out of the photos and went to his messages with you. taking a picture of his wet hand next to his face with a bright smile, this'll get you, he's sure of it.
carmy: attachment: one image.
carmy: missing you, baby.
he smiles when your contact rings at the top of his phone, quickly answering the facetime call.
"what's up, babygirl?"
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fictionalmenmakemecry · 2 months
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tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader
It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS
TAGLIST
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I need you tonight. Want to go?
You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.
-
Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 
“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?
“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”
“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”
“And you took the L,”
“Ubered here, actually.”
“Surge rates?”
“I was in a rush.”
“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”
“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”
“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”
“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.
You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 
You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.
You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.
You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 
“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 
“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”
“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?
“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.
“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”
“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”
“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”
“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”
Is it too late for me to love you? 
“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”
Is it too late for me to love you? 
Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.
“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 
“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”
“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”
“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”
You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.
“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 
“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 
“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 
“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 
He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 
“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”
“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 
“Carm…”
“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.
You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 
“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”
He taps his cock against your pussy.
“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”
“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”
He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”
With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 
“Fuck,” 
The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.
“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”
“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”
“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”
“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”
“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 
Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 
“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 
“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”
Sex has never felt this good. 
You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 
“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 
“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”
He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 
“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”
You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 
“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.
“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”
“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”
You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.
“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Waffles or pancakes?”
“Waffles with whipped cream.”
-
Why won’t you let me love you?
There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 
You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…
It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.
-
Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 
Isn’t this what lovers do? 
He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 
“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”
Would you still send it to him?
-
By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 
You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 
You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 
“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”
“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 
“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”
“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 
“Sure.”
You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 
You were wrong. So, so wrong. 
“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”
“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 
“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”
“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”
“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”
“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.
You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 
“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 
Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 
“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”
“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”
“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”
“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?
“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”
You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 
“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”
“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 
-
“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 
“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”
“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”
“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 
“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 
The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 
“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”
“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”
“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 
“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”
“Yeah. You were so excited,”
“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”
Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.
“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”
-
I want to talk to you.
Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.
Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 
“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”
He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.
“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 
“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”
“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”
“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“
“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.
“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”
“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”
“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“
“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.
“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”
“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?
“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?
“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”
Carmy frowned. 
“What else did you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”
Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.
You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 
“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”
“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”
“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.
“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 
“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 
��Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”
“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”
“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”
You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 
“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”
“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?
-
It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 
He’s been doing good—perfect. 
It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 
He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 
It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 
He was alright. 
“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”
“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 
“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 
“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”
“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“
“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”
“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”
“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 
He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?
“Carmen,” 
“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 
PART 2
AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.
TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash
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