#the bear fanfic

[mayfieldss]

Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's my fucking job."

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

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

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

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

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

"Girl dinner, good for her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

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

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #neil fak #the bear imagines #the bear imagine

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #roommate!carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #the bear x reader #roommate!carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #jeremy allen white #the bear smut #the bear imagine #roommate!carmy berzatto #roommate!carmen berzatto smut #roommate carmen berzatto #the bear fanfiction #the bear

[jomarch-wannabe]

Anger management (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Girlfriend reader

Synopsis: Carmy is stressed the f out as usual, and needs a way to unwind

Warnings: Smut 🔞 (dub-con, cohercion, kissing, manhandling, fingering, choking, p in v sex, rough sex, praise kink, degradation kink, not sure what to call it but being turned on by angry men, I have a problem I know)

Author’s note: Watching this show and seeing him yell kind of did things to me.. uhh so this is absolute filth, hopefully the girls that get it get it

——————————————————————————

“Fuck!” The sound of your boyfriend shouting echoed through the hot, bustling kitchen. It wasn’t unusual for him to get overheated, but it still made you tremble nonetheless. (Whether in fear or desire, you couldn’t quite figure out).

“Jesus, why doesn’t anybody fucking listen to me?!” A metallic crash followed his outburst, making you jump slightly.

Heavy steps came around the corner as his figure approached you, carried by his wide shoulders. At the sight of you he let out an audible breath, dropping his shoulders slightly.

“Good. You’re here.” The intensity of his wide blue eyes lingered over you as he got lost in thought. His tongue darted out over his lips, wetting them, before pulling his bottom lip into his teeth.

Without warning his hand seized hold of your bicep, pulling you away into his office. In nervousness you let out a soft laugh, “Carmy.. what are you-“ he pulled the door closed behind you, locking it. Your eyes scanned over his face, hovering near yours, to the twitching of his jaw in the dimly lit room. He was holding something back.

“What is it?”

The pressure on your arm released as he unhanded you, resting his hands on his hips as his eyes followed you up and down.

“I learned something.. in in, my uh, my group therapy class.” He pulled back his curly brunette strands off his face, sweating in frustration, or perhaps, lust.

“Oh.”

“I need an an- outlet to get my anger out, my.. fucking.. stress you know? And, I- baby..” He took a step towards you, his lips mere inches from your face as he spoke in a deep whisper. “..I need you.”

The proposal made your stomach sink. “H-here?” You couldn’t deny the electricity buzzing through your limbs at the thought of him taking you, especially in the state he was in.

“Please..” He begged lowly. His nostrils flared with his breath as he extended a hand to your jaw, thrumming his angular fingers over your skin. They twitched in anticipation.

You swallowed thickly, taking in the desperate look in his eyes. You tried to be the bigger person, but you couldn’t ignore the warm pulsing between your legs. “Okay..” the word came out in a breath, fleeing your plump lips.

This was enough confirmation for him to proceed. In seconds his lips were crashing against yours, hungrily, letting out a groan of desire as he tasted you, sifting his hand through your hair. You gasped softly, backing into his desk from the force of his kiss. A pile of papers slid out of place under your hands, weakly holding yourself up.

He pulled away, panting as his nose brushed a against yours.. “Fuck baby I need you so bad.. need to take all my anger out.. kiss.. need to unwind..” he groaned hungrily against your mouth, eyes flicking over you.

In submission you let out a soft moan into his mouth, teasing his muscular chest through the thin material of his shirt. His heart was pounding, thumping against your fingertips.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” He spoke against your lips, thumbing the waistband of your bottoms.

You nodded profusely, helping him unbutton them. They shuffled down your legs with his guidance, landing on the floor. His head fell into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he eagerly cupped your panties. “Mm..” you whimpered at the pressure, sliding your hand to his shifting shoulder blades.

“Jesus you’re fucking soaked..” he praised, rubbing his fingertips against the damp material. “Does this turn you on? Hmm? Like when I’m all worked up? Like like the thought of me being rough with you?” His taunting voice whispered against your ear.

You nodded, letting out a choked whimper, feeling your thighs subconsciously squeeze together around his hand.

He let out an aroused laugh, lifting his head from your neck and sliding his free hand around your throat. Dominating you was his drug of choice, you were the one thing in his life he could have complete control over, and it made him high. His fingers wrapped slowly around your neck, squeezing. The pressure took the breath from your lungs. As you watched him in anticipation your brows knit together meeting his eyes, dark with lust.

His lips hung open as he looked down, thumbing your panties to the side. His thick ring clad fingers skillfully pushed into your entrance, sighing at how warm you were.

“That’s my girl…” he muttered to himself, mesmerized as his fingers became coated in your glistening arousal. “Fuck..” he praised, stroking his fingers in and out of you. You let out a stifled moan, holding onto the hand around your throat.

“Soo wet.. I think you’re ready for me baby..” He removed his fingers with a wet pop, thumbing down his waistband to reveal his stiff cock, bobbing towards his defined abdomen. The tendons in his forearms twitched as fisted himself a few times, lining himself up against you.

Struggling for air, your eyes followed him as he pushed into you leaving no time to adjust, grunting at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. “Fuckk..”

He was warm and thick, the sensation of him stretching you out coaxed a whimper from you, “C-carmy..”

Encouraged by your sounds, he grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you towards him as he held open your legs, fucking you fast and rough. The only thing you could do was choke out a whimper, feeling an intense increase in pressure as he pounded into you.

“No one fucking listens to me.. fuck..” The chain around his neck swung with his thrusts, repeatedly hitting your chest. You held onto his shoulders weakly for leverage, helplessly being used at his disposal.

“Ahhh fuck.. baby you feel so fucking good..” he murmured, flexing his fingers slightly around your throat. “ahh..” your eyelids drooped as you watched his face contort in pleasure, increasing in redness, one prominent vein running along the side of his neck.

“Such a pretty fuckin pussy..” a jolt of pleasure shot down your legs as he suddenly thumbed at your clit, making you jump, “all for me.. I’m so lucky.. so fucking lucky.."

Your hips nudged pathetically against his, sloppily meeting his thrusts. Your whimpers and cries occupied the office as you submitted to him, helpless under his strong body.

His face flushed pink with exertion as he watched himself fuck you, ring clad fingers holding your legs open, digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“Carmy Carmy Carmy..” his name came off your lips like a prayer, increasing in pitch with your pleasure. The head of his cock repeatedly stroked that spongy spot inside of you, making your toes curl.

“You close baby? Fuck I’m close too.. gonna fucking come.. ah! gonna fill you up..” He watched you with a primal determination, seeing the hazy fucked out look on your face.

“Please..” you choked, feeling your legs begin to shake as you neared your high.

With a few deep, sloppy thrusts he groaned lowly, stiffening under your touch as he let out a low groan. “Ahh.. fuck…” His breath hitched as he rode out his high, abdomen caving with his breaths.

“Oh godd…” You followed him, clenching around him as your eyes squeezed shut, wrecked in waves of pleasure as you rode out your orgasm, digging your fingers into his back.

He relaxed hold of your neck, making you cough, giggling softly. A warmth came between your breasts from his mouth as he leaned down, marking your collarbones. You sighed softly, catching your breath as you sifted your fingers through his damp hair.

He groaned lowly as he pulled out of you with a slick wet noise, unleashing his warm arousal down your thighs.

“I feel a lot better now..” He murmured, lifting his head, drawing attention to his tousled sex hair and flushed cheeks. “thank you baby..”

#the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfic #the bear imagine #carmy x reader #carmy x y/n #carmy x you #Carmy Berzatto fanfiction

[yellowharrington]

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that. 

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes. 

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath. 

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together. 

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy. 

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink. 

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek. 

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself. 

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms. 

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert. 

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.” 

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features. 

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise. 

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his. 

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence. 

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

taglist: @grippleback-galaxy @chatitajens @rooster-bradshaws @hrrysweetcherry @whoreforbucky @notsochillnerd @jackierose902109 @how2besalty @rosewine-5 @honeybug-victoria @beansap @sincerelyrab @xxconfettiitsaparade @softsy @imafatassmess @bibliophilewednesday @chanluuvr

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#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear season 2 #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfic

[pantherxrogers]

You’re #1 to Me - Luca x Reader One-Shot (18+ ONLY)

Content warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, explicit language, and sexual content

Summary: The reader and Luca are in an established relationship. Luca comes home after finding out he isn’t the actually best chef (based on the conversation in episode 4 w/ Marcus). The reader is determined to lend him a HAND 🤗

A/N: Did I just write smut about a character with less than 10 minutes of screentime?! MAYBE YES!! 😛 I’ve been extremely down bad for Will Poulter recently 😭 also,,, @wakandamama ‘s Sydney x Carmy fics are inspiring me to write more! Here’s a one-shot for my favorite baker! <3

“Babe, he’s like....really good,” Luca murmurs into the quiet air of your shared apartment.

“Yeah, but so are you.” Your confidence in him is slowly soothing the ache in his chest. 

“It’s just…he’s like..” He can feel the words slipping from his brain, the steady feeling of your fingers against his scalp lulling him into a relaxed state.

The pair of you are tangled together on the couch, you’re halfway on his lap while he rests his head against the back cushion. The smooth column of his necks calls out to you, tempting and waiting. His eyelids flutter involuntarily, when he feels the soft kiss you place there.

“He’s like…what?” You breath against his neck, pulling him away from the noise in his head. The silence stretches between the two of you, Luca’s uncertainty stirring up inside of him.

“Because, I say,” you whisper into his ear, “you’re still number one to me.”

Your arm drapes loosely around his shoulder now, nestling further into his side. His strong arm acts as a cradle, pulling you in, before he meets your eyes.

The sadness in his eyes has given way to something else, and it causes a warm tingle to flood your body. The tension has shifted now, and it’s much more welcome this time.

“Come here,” his voice is firm, but gentle when he turns to give you his full attention. Leaning in, his lips are tentative against your own. This kiss is soft and light, but it still makes your tummy flutter. The insecurity that he’s been feeling at work weighs him down. Luckily, you know what he needs in this moment.

The intensity of your lips against his own brings him back into the moment. While he might not feel like the best chef in the world, he’ll be damned if he can’t help you feel as good as possible.

Deepening the kiss, he eases his hands onto your hips, bringing you to his lap in one fluid motion. The sudden change of pace leaves you breathless, giggling into the kiss when your lips meet again.

He breaks the kiss, only to softly nip at your neck, teasing you until he gets to the spot that makes you let out a soft moan.

Your hips softly rock against his own, the thin pajamas pants making it much easier for you to feel the growing tent in his pants. Wandering hands knead against the plush of your ass, his hips lazily grinding upwards.

When you bury your face in his neck, you’re met with the lingering smell of sugar that clings to him. The scent overwhelms you, driving your need to be even closer. All you can focus on is making him forget about his stress.

Your hands trail down, slowly lifting his shirt over his head, revealing the tanned skin beneath it. You can’t help but trail your hands over the defined muscle, his eyes following your motion.

“Luca,” your soft voice grabs his attention. He’s in a trance, the soft lighting of your shared apartment makes your beauty feel unbearable.  It’s only when you softly smirk at him that he’s prompted to respond.

“Yes, love?” The raspiness of his voice makes you tug on your lip, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by your lover. His hands have slipped into your bottoms, toying with the string of your thong.

“I want to make you feel good, is that okay?” His answering groan makes your heart race, “You know you don’t have to ask me that,” he grunts, tugging you back in for a kiss.

His lips are urgent against your own, the smooth glide of his tongue causing a stir in your belly. You blindly reach down to loosen his belt buckle. The kiss breaks, only for a moment, so you can look down to lower the band of his sweats.

His lips frantically reconnect with yours, eager to be close to you. Each swipe of your tongue against his own is making him harder, the thin boxers doing little to conceal him. He jumps a little when you reach your hand down to stroke him through the fabric.

“Hmm, fuck,” he sighs, the gentle touch of your hand causes his hips to stutter. You ease off of his lap, sitting on your knees next to him, needing more space for what you’re about to do.

In a swift motion, you’re rolling down his boxers, causing him to hiss as the cool air meets his hard cock. He glances over as you reach up to wet the palm of your hand, the lewd act making him twitch.

When your soft hand wraps around his base, Luca swears he might pass out. You stroke him from the base to the tip, causing precum to leak onto your hand. He lets out a loud moan when when find a steady rhythm. He’s thick and warm in your hand, turning you on even more.

“Does that feel good baby, hmm?” You tease him, his hips bucking up to chase the relief.

“Yes, fuck, f-feels good,” he moans out, his hand reaching around to grip your lower back, grounding himself. You’re leaning into him, pressing kisses against his neck, then softly sucking on the skin. Your hand slows against him, toying with his tip.

“I can tell, baby, you’re making a mess all over my hand,” you breathe out, loving the way his cock twitches as you tease him.

“C-can’t help it, you feel so good,” he whines out, trying to keep his hips still. Your other hand comes up to softly tug at his balls, making him lose his composure.

He lets out a curse as he throws his head against the back of the couch, his hips bucking against your hand.

“It’s okay, baby, you can come for me,” the warmth in your voice engulfs him, causing him to release all over your hand.

His chest slows as he comes down from his high, muscles slowly relaxing further into the couch. You retract your hand, reaching for his shirt to clean him off before gently tucking him back into his boxers.

The soft presses of your lips against his cheeks bring him back down to Earth, his eyes finding yours without fail.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of you feel shy, the redness in his cheeks makes your heart swell.

His blonde hair is messy now, adding to the boyish look on his face. His eyelids droop now, the knowledge that you’ve fully relaxed him causing a genuine smile to spread across your face.

The rest of the night is spent in both of your favorite ways, tangled together, listening to the lull of the other’s heartbeat.

................................................................................................................................

Tagging my fellow The Bear enthusiasts 🥳 (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@wakandama2​ @blowmymbackout​ ​ @kdoxkeic 

#the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #the bear smut #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #will poulter fanfic #will poulter fanfiction #luca the bear #the bear #the bear fx #the bear x reader #will poulter smut #luca x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #will poulter #𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics

[collecting-stories]

Strawberry Gazpacho - Carmen Berzatto

A/N: Some people asked for a part 2 of Blueberry BBQ, so I decided to stay on the fruit trend!

Summary: Reader and Carmy continue to bond over food.

The Bear Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

"What is this?" You asked, staring down at the bowl Carmy had placed on top of your papers. You were in the back office, trying to work on the week's payroll when he'd come in, told you that you needed a lunch break, and placed a plate down in front of you. 

"Try it," he urged, wringing his hands in his apron and looking like an eager little kid. 

"Carm-"

"Try it," he repeated and you obliged. Regardless of what it was you knew you would like it. Carmy made it, which immediately meant it couldn't be bad, but also, Carmy made it. For you, more specifically. You took the proffered spoon and dipped it into the bowl, surprised when you pressed it to your lips and found that it was, in fact, cold.

"Gazpacho?" You asked, after a second bite.

You had told him last night, while watching TV and letting him finish the tupperware of tofu feta that's you'd made the day before, that you hated gazpacho. You loved soup and tomato was your favorite; a nice, roasted red-pepper tomato, heavy on the garlic, that you'd perfected over the years. But no gazpacho. You couldn't get used to the fact that it was cold. 

"You like it?" He asked in a way that suggested he might genuinely be worried that you would tell him it was horrible.

"I mean, it's the best gazpacho I've ever had," you took another bite as proof, "it's spicy."

"But?"

You weren't sure if he was fishing for a compliment or trying to convert you onto a food you held in disdain but you assumed that if he wanted someone to tell him that he was a skilled chef he would've gone to Syd or Marcus with his cold soup.

"It's cold soup Carmy, I just can't fuck with cold soup." You replied, "it's good though."

He reached for the spoon in your hand and dipped it into the bowl, trying some of the gazpacho that he had made. He nodded his head, as if to confirm that it was good, as if he didn't already know it would be.

"Should I like, fall over at your feet and tell you that you've converted me to gazpacho and it's the only thing I'll ever order for the rest of my life?" You teased, leaning an elbow on the desk. It felt completely natural to be this relaxed with him and yet, just weeks earlier, you'd been fretting over the idea of having him come over for Sunday dinner. 

He handed the spoon back and you took another experimental taste.

"I mean, you're still eating it," he pointed out, grinning. 

In no world would Carmy say that he was 'good with people'. If he wasn't saying the wrong thing then he was saying nothing at all (and that was also wrong). He wanted to spend more time with you, the most time he could afford outside of The Beef but the only way he really knew how to spend time with anyone was cooking. So he kept cooking for you, things you liked, things you hated but liked when he made them. He kept trying to find the perfect thing to say and the perfect recipe to go along with it, as if that would remedy his inability to tell you that he wanted more from whatever this situation currently was. You weren't dating but he wanted to be dating but he wasn't exactly the dating type (as far as having an actual open schedule went). 

"Touche," you replied, taking another bite. "I can't decide if I'll regret telling you this or not but my mom has a recipe for strawberry gazpacho that apparently my grandma used to make every summer."

"Strawberry?"

"I can already see the gears turning in your head Carmy," you laughed. 

He looked down at you, piercing blue eyes taking your measure, "can you get me the recipe?"

"Are you gonna make me eat it?" You practically pouted. 

He nodded, "yes."

You groaned and leaned back in the office chair, "god, the things I do for you Carmy." You sighed. "I'll text my mom for the recipe...I can pick stuff up on my way home, if you want. Or if you're all gazpacho'ed out-"

"No, tonight works." He agreed.

Before you could say anything else Marcus was calling Carmy back to the kitchen. He wiped his hands on his apron once more and push himself off the desk. Before he could pick up the bowl you put your hand over his, "I might try another bite." 

There were other things that Carmy could probably be doing with his evening. Catching up on sleep, working on the recipes that he and Syd had been spitballing for the updated menu, mending whatever semblance of a relationship he still had with Sugar. Instead he was looking forward to going to your apartment (which was leagues nicer than his shitty place) and cooking. He'd lived so long on white bread and peanut butter and chips and soft drinks and anything quick that he'd forgotten what it was like to cook just because he enjoyed cooking. Hell, he'd forgotten that he enjoyed it. The only thing, lately, that really felt like it brought that enjoyment back was standing in your kitchen.

"Rigoletto has taken up residence on the island and he refuses to move so...we're down some counter space," you said as soon as you opened the door to Carmy, moving aside to let him into your apartment. 

He stopped at the island, leaning over to pet Rigoletto, who half-heartedly rolled onto his side to give Carmy better access to his stomach. "Hey chef," he teased. He turned to look at you, still stroking the cat as he did, "strawberry gazpacho?" 

"I would just like to disclaimer that I don't think strawberries are going to improve my deep-seated hatred of gazpacho but-"

"I mean, you did eat most of the one I made earlier," Carmy pointed out as your mouth fell open in surprise. 

"Angel! What a snitch!" You laughed, "I can't believe he told you."

"Hey, it's my kitchen, I've gotta know what's going on." He followed you around the other side of the island, grabbing the notebook you had sitting on the counter and scanning over the recipe. You'd called your mom on the way home and asked for a copy of the recipe, which she'd gladly texted ("does this have something to do with that cute chef where you work?"). You'd picked up whatever ingredients you didn't already have at your house and set everything out for Carmy before he'd even gotten there. You felt a little silly, being so excited just to have him come over and cook with you (for you) when there was no real definition to what your relationship was. 

"Did you cook growing up? Like with your mom and stuff?" You asked, stealing a strawberry out of the plastic container. 

"No," Carmy shook his head, then amended his answer, "not really. My ma always told us to help but if we did she yelled at us for doing something the wrong way...it was better to just stay outta her way when she was in the kitchen. You?"

"Oh yeah, my mom's not like...the best chef in the world or anything but she loved trying new stuff. Anything we wanted we could ask for and she'd try to make it. And then as we got older we would have like, nights where one of us got to cook." You replied, "I like it but...I don't think I'm good at it."

"You are...I mean....not like, you've got potential." Carmy explained, blue eyes glancing up to meet you across the island and you smiled. 

"Thank you chef."

You left Carmy to the strawberry gazpacho and the chicken he'd brought over to make some dish you'd never heard of before while you got Rigoletto's dinner out. The cat had finally moved off the island and you sprayed it down with cleaner to at least give yourself a better chance of not picking white cat hair off your dinner plate. 

Carmy fit right into your kitchen, probably the whole apartment for that matter. It was something both of you had thought, more than once, but neither of you said anything about. He felt like he was waiting for something bad to come from all the good you had been supplying in his life recently. Bad news always felt like it was lurking around the corner for him, especially these days, and he didn't want to put everything in one basket. But being in your kitchen, in your space, felt good. It felt like he was supposed to be there. 

"Did you know," you were saying as you came back into the kitchen, leaning near him to look at the chicken he was searing on the stovetop, "that I didn't know what mortadella was before I started working at the Beef?" 

Carmy turned his head to watch you fish a piece of garlic out of the skillet and eat it whole, "Did you just?"

"It was cooked."

"It was a whole clove of garlic."

"I love garlic," you shrugged, dropping the fork in the sink, "but seriously, I had to google it cause I didn't know what Richie was talking about when he was trying to explain it."

"It's very Italian." Carmy replied. 

"You're very Italian." You grinned and he rolled his eyes.

"I am, yeah." And then, "I still can't believe you ate that."

"You act like you've never eaten garlic before."

"Not just shoved a whole clove in my mouth." He replied. 

"It tasted good." You shrugged, "I always use too much garlic. Like if a recipe says three cloves I use six."

"Yeah that's why I said you had potential." 

"Well now I just feel like that's your 'I don't wanna hurt your feelings' way of saying I'm actually shit at cooking." You replied. 

"Nah, if you were shit I'd tell you."

"Yeah but then who'd balance the books for you?" You teased, searching in the cabinet under the island for wine, "red or white?"

"Uh...white for this." Carmy replied.

You pushed the bottle of red you were holding back into the cabinet and went to the fridge, pulling out the Chardonnay you'd bought last week. You grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, handing him one once it was poured. 

"Is this the 'only white you'll drink' wine?" He asked, taking a sip. 

The last time he had come over to cook with you (for you) there had been a long discussion about different wines in which you'd explained that there was only one type of white that you liked. More accurately, one brand that made a chardonnay you didn't completely hate. 

"Yeah...they finally restocked!" You exclaimed, leaning against the counter, "the woman at the Wine and Spirits definitely thinks I'm an alcoholic though...I bought like, four bottles." 

Carmy shook his head, reaching a hand out for the bottle and splashing a little into the pan when you handed it to him. Kitchens were crowded and Carmy was more than used to working in an environment where people were constantly at each other's side or back or space but something about having you leaning there against the counter beside him was both extremely nerve-wracking and extremely comforting. 

He didn't say anything about it though, at least not until after you'd eaten dinner and were sitting on the couch avoiding the dishes. Then he blurted it out while you watched reruns of Murder, She Wrote with Rigoletto. "I always thought I would do stuff like this when I was younger."

"Watch 80's tv shows on a Tuesday night?" You asked.

"No," he laughed, "Just like...I don't know....you know, make dinner with someone. Or, I guess, not feel like my entire life was in a restaurant all the time."

"Well I'll always be happy to make dinner with you...or at least supply the wine while you make dinner." You replied, grinning at him.

"Yeah," he nodded his head slowly, as if convincing himself that what you were saying was true. 

"Yeah," you agreed.

#collecting stories imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x y/n #the bear fanfiction #the bear imagine #the bear fanfic

[words-4u]

right person (2/3)

pairing: luca x reader

wc: 3.3k

a/n: part two is hereee! i took the conversation that marcus and luca had while chopping/folding dough and revamped it for this fic <3 hope yall like it

warnings: 18+ SMUT, swearing

part 1 / part 3

as it turns out making shiso gelee wasn't as complicated as it sounds but it also helped massively that chef luca is always near to correct any mistakes.

the kitchen is silent besides the sounds of pots and smacking of dough from marcus' station.

luca is drying some tupperware at the table behind you while you whisk some liquid gelatin.

"that's a little bit too thick," he says peering over. "so just add some more pineapple juice."

you caught a whiff of his aftershave which made you want to lose your mind. "yes, chef."

doing as he instructed, you add more juice. "just to know for the future, can i ask why?"

he glances at you before going back to his task at hand. "uh, the thicker it is, the stronger it is. so too thick and it overpowers the other components."

"good to know... and what do you serve this with exactly?"

"uh, we do that with a thin slice of marzipan and a caramel cracker," luca answers.

"damn, that sounds good," you say.

"yeah, it's a nice dish," he comes over to your side and puts away some freshly dried containers.

"uh you're good to go on your break, by the way. we can pick this up in 15,"

"are you sure?"

"yes. the gel needs to set anyways."

"thank you, chef," you smile and make your way to an area behind the restaurant for a smoke break. lucky for you, that area had a nice wooden bench. you take a seat and place a cigarette between your lips, lighting it.

taking your first drag, you shut your eyes and lean your head against the exposed brick of the building.

"i, uh, i don't suppose i could use your lighter, chef," a voice asks. the accent is instantly recognizable.

"oh, sure," you go over to where he's standing and close the distance between you as you light his bud.

you stuff your lighter back into your pocket but don't return to the bench.

"y/n," you say after a few moments.

"sorry?"

"it's just, uh, when we aren't in the kitchen, you can call me y/n,"

he nods.

"so tell me y/n," he says. "how do you like you copenhagen so far?"

"well, considering i've been in the city less than 48 hours, i have no complaints. the scenery is beautiful. food is pretty good and the people..." you look up at him. "i'm still getting to know the people."

he holds your gaze before letting out a cloud of smoke. "hmm."

if you didn't think there was a weird tension between you earlier, you definitely feel it now.

“if you, uh, ever want a proper tour, let me know,” luca says.

it takes everything you have to not breakout into a massive smile. “thanks, chef.”

“outside the kitchen, luca,”

this time you nod. “luca.”

he clears throat and steps on his cigarette. “well, we’d better get back inside and check on the gelee,”

“of course, how could we forget about the gelee,” you say following him back in and you swear you hear him chuckle.

when you got back to your station, you began blanching some large green leaves first by boiling it in hot water and then immediately dumping it in a metal bowl filled with ice water so it doesn't lose its colour.

luca took the metal bowl and brought it to the table behind you where the blender was. he takes a clump of the leaves and then adds water.

"start off low," luca says as he turns on the blender.

the loud noise jolts you a bit.

"you can see the colour change," he says as you move closer. "you see it starting to get brighter?"

"gorgeous colour," you say.

"yeah, it is."

luca pours the green liquid into a sifter and hands you the purified liquid.

he watches as you pour the liquid into a new bowl and asks you to to bloom the gelatin with the cold green liquid to prevent potential clumps.

the second half of your shift flew by because before you knew it, it was time to clock out of the day.

in the change room, you removed your apron and since you were alone you removed your shirt as well quickly sliding on the grey sweatshirt you came with.

just as you brought your sweatshirt down, luca walked in and stood at his locker across from you.

turning your head slightly to peek at him, you caught him pulling off his shirt and since his back was turned towards you, he couldn't see you drinking in the sight of him.

you turned back around and pressed your lips.

"uh, luca," you say.

"yeah?" he says.

"about that, uh, personal tour? is now a good time?" you slowly turn his way.

he cracked the faintest smile. "sure. anywhere particular in mind?"

you shake your head. "wherever you wanna show me,"

"in that case, might i suggest some sustenance first? does coffee sound good?"

"coffee sounds fucking great," you sigh and follow him out the door and on to the sidewalk.

"there's this cafe that i love just up the road," he says.

walking alongside him, you take in your height difference. he's probably 6'2" to your 5'7" so it was perfect.

when you arrive at a hole-in-the-wall cafe, that had blue painted bricks and picture frames of happy looking folks. probably customers or family members.

"hi," luca says going up to the old woman behind the counter. "can i get a medium black coffee and...." he looks to you to say your coffee of choice.

"just a caramel latte please,"

"a caramel latte," he repeats "and two snegls please,"

you grab a table for the two of you near the window so you can people watch while luca gets your order. it's midday now and you watch as people in their own little lives pass by the window.

luca makes his way to you holding two coffee cups and clutching two bags of pastries.

"okay now can i ask what the hell a snegl is?" you say once he's seated.

"sure. it's cinnamon roll style pastry but shaped like a snails shell if that makes sense," he explains.

"so a cinnamon bun?"

he was going to refute your statement but upon seeing the look on your face, he concedes. "yeah, it's a cinnamon bun,"

you guys shard a small laugh.

"so long have you been a cook?" he asks taking a sip of his hot drink.

"about six years now. i went to university for psychology but didn't really feel like it was my thing," you answer.

"so you dropped out?"

"no. after all the hard work my parents did to raise me, dropping out, no matter how disengaged i was, was not an option. so i got that degree but i did tell them the truth. that my heart wasn't in it for that right reasons."

"so how did you fall into cooking?" luca sat up ready to hear your story.

"my dad taught me everything i know," you say a lump started to form in your throat. "i swear his favourite place besides his bed was the kitchen."

luca stayed silent and let you collect yourself. "he passed recently... but he was the best mentor i could have asked for."

"i'm sure he's proud," luca said with sincerity.

you give him a small smile.

"what about you?" you say ready to move on before you start crying in front of your hot co-worker. "how long have you been doing this?"

"uh, fourteen years now..."

"oh, so you started when you were three?" you ask deadpanned.

he chuckles. "close enough, yeah."

"and with that accent i'm guessing you're from london."

"you'd be correct. and you're from chicago?"

"born n raised," you confirm. "so did you go to culinary school?"

"i didn't. no. i didn't do too well in school. got in quite a bit of trouble. ditched the check. they caught me. made me wash dishes, and, uh, i loved it."

"wow, you might be the only person i know that loves washing dishes,"

he shrugs. "it gives me time to reflect."

"fair enough," you hold your hands up. "i can't argue with that."

"so, uh, you said your dad passed recently, but how recent? if you don't mind me asking?"

"no, not at all. i love talking about him," you say. "he died a little over a year ago and not gonna lie... i didn't handle it too well. it was sudden. in his sleep. so i had no chance to say goodbye and i think that's what still hurts more than anything."

you let a tear fall but quickly wiped it away. "i'm sorry."

"you never have to apologize to me. ever. and especially for crying," he hands you a tissue that came with the pastries.

"you're an only child?" he asks taking out a snegl and placing one in front of you.

"i have two brothers. and you?"

"uh, yeah. i have a younger sister somewhere... yeah,"

"somewhere?" you echo taking slow bites of your snegl.

he clears his throat. "half-sister, i have to clarify. my parents separated when i young and my mum quickly found someone new. then my sister came along and then one day... my mum just left. no goodbye or anything just a note saying she wanted to focus on herself... my step-dad got custody of my sister and well i was 18 by that time so i moved out and moved on."

you stay silent for a few seconds. you couldn't believe a mother could abandoned her kids like that, especially someone as great as luca.

"she's missing out... your mom."

"yeah," he sighs.

you were starting to see luca in a different light. after telling him your story and you his, all you wanted to do was hold him and hope to ease his pain and loss. but you couldn't do that so you opted for something safer. kind of...

"hey, want to come back to mine and i can cook us a meal or something?"

"you still wanna cook after today?"

"you can take the cook out of the kitchen, but you can’t take the kitchen out of the cook."

he laughs at that. "okay, let's go."

you and luca talk some more on the way to your place. he makes you laugh telling stories of his younger rugrat days in london and when you're talking, he hangs on to your every word.

"you... live on a boat?" he says when you arrive.

you look back opening the door. "cool, huh?"

"very."

you turn to luca as you place your bag on a hook at the front door. "can i get you anything?"

"water is fine," he says taking a seat the dining table. you get his water and tell him to make himself comfortable as you went up stairs to change into a t-shirt and loose jeans.

it's only when you make your way back down and see luca sitting at the table, that you've realized how small your space and intimate your living space was.

"what's on the menu for tonight, chef?" luca asks as he spots you coming down the steps.

"home made pizza, if your elegant taste buds can handle that?" you reply.

"i can never turn down a pizza,"

you got started on the dough and soon enough luca is by your side helping. what was supposed to be you cooking for him, turned to him taking over and doing all the work which you let him happily.

"how did you get good at this?" you ask as you finished with your slice.

he exhales. "honestly, i made a lot of mistakes."

"so that's the secret then? just fuck up?"

he smiles. "it might be, you know, fuck up."

"i think 'cause i started early, i got my skill set up really quick and then started to feel like i was really the best, you know, like at all these really good places. i really was the best cook. and then i started at this really great place as a commis. and this other chef started the same day as me, and..." he sighs.

"i thought we were competition, um, but really we weren't. he was better than me. much, much better than me. he worked harder and faster than i ever could. and it was the first time i realized that i wasn't the best," he confides.

"and i was never gonna be the best. so i started looking at it like it was a good thing. like, at least i knew who the best was now, and i could take that pressure off myself. and the only logical thing to do was to try and keep up with him. so i never left this guy's side."

"and you got better," you say.

"oh, i got better than i ever thought i possibly could be just from trying to keep up with him."

"that's incredible, honestly," you say putting the dirty dishes in the sink and hopping on the counter.

"thanks but i think at a certain stage it becomes less about skill and it's more about being open."

"open?" you echo.

"yeah. to-to the world, to yourself, to other people. you know, most of the incredible things that i've eaten haven't been because the skill level is exceptionally high or there's loads of mad fancy techniques. it's because it's been really inspired, you know." he says.

"i like that," you say softly.

"you can spend all the time in the world in the kitchen, but if you don't spend enough time out there..." he trails off but you understood what he meant.

"right," you nod.

luca lifts his gaze to you. "it helps to have good people around you, too."

"is what i am? good people?" you smile coyly.

he gets up and walks over to you, placing his hands on either side of the counter in front of you. "honestly? i really think so."

a few moments go by where luca just studies your face and you can feel your heart beating a million miles per hour.

"you are so fucking beautiful," he finally says. his voice barely above a whisper.

those words set your body aflame. you parted your lips and he leaned. "may i?"

"please," was all you managed to get out before luca held your chin and guided your lips to his. he was taking things slow, trying to sus your level of comfortability and giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted but you didn't want that. ever.

you brought your arms around his neck pushing him closer to you. the kiss got heavier and you moaned as he bit your lip. "i have been wanting to do this since i first saw you,"

"good because i've wanted this too," you say as luca starts to kiss your neck and moves his hands under your top.

he slides his hand up and down your back and then around to your boobs to start playing with your nipples. you lean your head back and revel in his affection.

you were desperate to get his hands on him as well so you lifted the black hoodie he adorned wanting to see his chest that you caught just a glimpse of earlier.

"wow," you say as you running both hands across his pecs and abs. you trail your fingers down south before you cup him through his jeans. "is this okay?" you whisper.

"more than okay," he lets out as you message him through his jeans.

he moves to take off your top next and you help, revealing your bare chest to him. luca looks at you in awe and immediately attaches his lips to your nipple while still playing with other.

you unbutton your jeans and luca helps you shimmy out of them.

"fuck," he whispered at the sight of you sitting completely naked and ready for him. he slides two fingers up and down your slit. "you're so wet, is this all for me?"

you whimper at his touch, spreading your legs wider. "all for you, luca."

he brings his fingers to his lips to taste you. "just like i imagined, you taste so sweet" he says as he gets on his knees and slides you to the edge of the counter.

the first lick was heaven. you couldn't help but throw your head back and moan. luca doesn't waste anytime, eating you like your his last meal.

"l-luca," you whine as he sucks on your clit. you grab his golden locks as he laps at your cunt.

"you're the best thing i've ever tasted," luca says in between licks. coming from a chef, that was the highest praise a girl could get.

he detaches himself from your cunt, his nose, lips and chin covered in your juices. he stands and holds your face in his hands and kisses you. you taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it down your mouth.

"i need to fuck you or else i'm gonna lose my mind," he says in breathy whispers.

"upstairs," is all you said before he carries you in that direction and up the stairs to your bed.

luca drops you on the bed and you lay on your forearms and watch as him takes off his jeans and then his boxers. as he pulls that down, he watches you watch him.

your eyes go wide at the sight of his hard, and rather large, dick. you reach to wipe the pre-cum leaking from his tip, pressing it to your lips. he groans and climbs on top of you. "condom?"

"i'm on the pill," you say caressing his hair back and bringing his lips back to yours.

luca takes his aching dick and rubs it against your slit. "are you ready?"

"mmhm," you say as he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks into you.

muffled moans are exchanged between the two of you as your mouths clashed hungrily.

"you're so big, luca" you say, squeezing down on his eliciting a hiss from him.

"y-yes squeeze me like that again... fuck," he thrusts his hip into you at a steady pace as you scratched your nails across his muscled back.

"this feels so good," he murmurs.

you gasp as he pulls out almost all the way only to push back int you again. you pull your knees up so he can reach deeper inside you. you could feel him stretching you and filling you up, his beautiful face inches away from yours as he peppers your neck with sloppy kisses.

the sounds falling from your lips are incoherent, his pace moving at a high speed as he wants to get you off. it didn't take long for you to gain the warm sensation in the pit of your stomach. "i'm so c-close,"

"yeah? cum for me, darling," he moans keeping that speed that he's at, his dick throbbing inside you as well signalling he was gonna cum soon.

luca let out a throaty groan before he snaps his hips into you, feeling his first load release into your cunt. you follow close behind as you cover his dick with your wetness but he stills fucks you through your high.

as you catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against your collarbone before he pulls out.

"wait there," he says and goes downstairs and comes back up just as quickly carrying paper towels. he smiles to himself seeing you in your current position all fucked out, liking the effect he had on you.

the bed dips as luca makes his way to you and cleans you up.

you slide under the covers, and when he discards the paper towels, he joins you.

"that was good," you say as he brings you into his chest.

his fingers trail up and down your arm softly while he lays his head on top of yours.

"it was," he says planting a kiss on your head.

"can we stay like this for a bit?" you ask not wanting this moment to end.

"yeah, i'm not going anywhere," he says.

between the day that you had and luca caressing you, you let tiredness wash over you.

tags: @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok, @eddiemunsonreader, @sodapop182, @haydensith, @inpraizeof, @thecraziestcrayon, @zeeader, @tiana76, @jackierose902109

hope you guys enjoyed part two and thank you for all the support on the first part! part three is coming soon <3

#the bear #the bear season 2 #chef luca #the bear luca #will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter imagine #the bear imagine #the bear fanfic #the bear fx #luca x reader #chef luca imagine

[ashesofivory]

kissy smudge

: ̗̀➛ pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader.

: ̗̀➛ rating: no rating, available for all ages.

: ̗̀➛ warnings: swearing, fluff.

: ̗̀➛summary: your journey with carmen summed up in one, cute gesture. (just a small carmy blurb because i love the man)

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.9 k.

Usually, things aren't what they look like, or how they appear to be. There's always something — a hidden element, that lies buried under layers and masks of pretension and appearance. This applies to minds, human minds at that. While someone may appear calm and collected, like they have everything in control; it can be a simple façade, an excuse to lay low and not raise any worry or suspicion. That's what happens with Carmy Anthony Berzatto.

Seeming like a quiet, observant, and focused man, the Chicago native and award-winning chef is a ball of chaos, misunderstanding, and anxiety all tangled up like a kitten in a ball of yarn, or a bear, for that matter; all lying under the sound of pans and sizzling oil, mixed up with the various and rich aromas of exquisite and thought-over dishes.

The fear, the feeling of being trapped inside of a non-existent cage, the frustration at not feeling deserving and worthy, valuable or talented, eats him slowly but surely, just like a tornado does with a small city. But in chaos, there's always a constant, something that doesn't change, and that somehow, keeps everything at bay, offering that bit of comfort that the sound of waves crashing against the shore brings — soft and tranquil, like a feather touch. And for the chef, that constant is you. When things are wrong, whenever the noise in his mind doesn't let him talk and express himself, you speak with him, you understand and comprehend him in a way that no one had been able to before. You were the calm to his raging storm.

Having met each other while he was working in Copenhagen, sharing a kitchen, and being part of the three Michelin star restaurant, you had seen first-hand the development that he had gone through. From wanting to prove his brother right, to finding his own little heaven in the culinary world, and slowly found yourself sharing that enjoyment with him. It started with little quips and teases while cooking or cutting vegetables beside each other, gradually turned into coincidental meet-ups in the walk-in fridge, or sneaky kisses and caresses when the day winded up to an end. The slowest burn of them all, acts of service being his primary love language, had swept you up your feet. Whenever you didn't share the same shift, you'd come home to a delicious home-cooked meal and a shared bottle of wine, along with your favorite series pre-recorded on the shitty TV of your apartment; and whenever you shared the same shift, he'd make sure that his girl was never tired or worn out, usually throwing in the usual 'I can take over this, take a break' or 'jus' tell me if you need anything, chef'.

So, when your little personal heaven was broken by the devastating news of Michael Berzatto, the bigger bear's death, it hit you straight in the face. After much debate and persuasion from Carmy's side for you to stay here while he crossed the globe to take over the family's restaurant, you easily found yourself on the plane seat next to his, discussing how he'd run the place — or how he preferred to say it, how you both would run the place.

If Carmen's inside storm wasn't enough, The Beef was an added bonus to it all. The place was dirty, disorganized, and just a general mess, you could smell the mold rotting inside the ceiling and such. The crew was probably the only salvageable part of it all, with Tina being a sweetheart to you since the beginning and Marcus trying his best not to be a nuisance — although you butted heads with Richie at any given opportunity, you knew that in a deep part in his heart, he also considered you 'cousin'. And let's not talk about Sydney, her nervousness but ambition reminded you of a younger self, and took her in your arms despite the closeness in age. Putting that aside, it wasn't enough. The money was short, the local was in bad condition and you could see how Carmen's image was turning duller and his dream was vanishing away, turning into a shell of the man he once was.

As if it was a gift sent from God above, a miracle happened and money started appearing inside tomato cans, Mikey's courtesy, and you swore you hadn't jumped and laughed so much in a single day. A rainbow was starting to show up behind those stormy clouds, and tears brimmed your eyes as you saw Carmen's face light up for the first time since coming back to Chicago. He really had the sweetest smile. With the money, came the wish of renovating The Beef into Carmen's wish -- The Bear, and it didn't take much convincing between the crew that it was a much-needed change.

With newfound hope and determination, you and Carmen embarked on the journey of transforming The Beef into The Bear. It was a daunting task, but with your combined skills and unwavering support for each other, you tackled each challenge head-on. Despite the wave of challenges that came with such a monumental task, the camaraderie among the crew only grew stronger. Late nights turned into early mornings as everyone worked tirelessly to bring Carmen's vision to fruition. Carmy's eye for detail ensured that every corner of the restaurant was immaculate, Tina made sure to keep a familiar, comfortable vibe in the now shiny and white kitchen, Marcus took his deserved time to learn about pastries, Sydney embraced herself in a path to find the perfect menu, while your knack for organization streamlined the renovation process. Even Richie, begrudgingly at first and with Fax's help, lent his "expertise" in carpentry and construction, proving to be an invaluable asset, or so it was before he flooded the restaurant with the ceiling's mold — all within 3 months before opening.

It turned into an even more special project when Natalie, or Sugar, agreed to officially join in and make a place for herself as the project manager while carrying a baby. The woman was a sweetheart, really, and the resemblance to Carmen was pretty much obvious.

Now, here we are, just 5 weeks away from opening, and the place is barely presentable. The fire prevention test keeps being negative and the menu is still in drafts, and because the fire prevention rest keeps failing, you can't move forward with the menu, and it becomes a never-ending cycle.

"Focaccia and Bucatini does sound like a great pair," you mutter as you lean against the metallic kitchen counter, eyeing Syd's scribbles regarding the menu. "but if we do that, we'll have to propose a richer dish for seconds since pasta can be a bit bland for some people."

"Yeah, that's why I thought about a T-Bone. Think of it, it makes sense to have a meat dish in the menu since it'd also serve as an homage to The Beef," the younger commented, circling the handwriting with a pen and looking up at you for approval, even though your eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

"I'd like for you to organize my whole life, please. You're a fucking lifesaver." Your right hand comes up to give Sydney's shoulder a tender squeeze before marching away deep inside the kitchen and trying to keep up with whatever's going on with the fridge.

In the cramped office that lies inside the office, Sugar works on the restaurant's financial plan while listening to the not-so-sweet melody of pots bumping against each other and Fak trying to explain himself and his doings. She scribbles a number to call for the fire prevention test before letting out a small sigh and rubbing her face with her hands. This being Sugar's office, however, it's just temporal and for the time being, being borrowed from Carmy since he's now too busy to even sit on the weary chair and do this himself. But it still holds his belongings — the NOMA book, Mikey's family meal spaghetti recipe, and a picture of the both of you, for instance. The latest catches Sugar's attention.

It's a simple photo of you and Carmen, in Copenhagen, framed in white wood with a simple crystal on top of it. Both of you had your chef coats on; you were leaning with both of your elbows on the kitchen counter while Carmy was next to you, leaning on his side while looking at the camera. The photo doesn't seem staged whatsoever, rather looking like it had been taken at a moment of distraction. The light that comes into the office is reflecting on the picture, and just then, Sugar can see a little smudge on the glass. The kiss mark atop your face in the picture emerges as she shifts. Sugar chuckles softly at the sight of the kiss mark, a testament to the intimacy and affection shared between you and Carmy. It's a moment of respite amidst the chaos, a reminder of the love that fuels the determination to overcome the hurdles they face.

Sugar's eyes soften as she notices the kiss mark on the glass, a gentle smile forming on her lips. She can't push herself to reach out to touch the smudge, feeling as, if she did, she'd break this gesture. To think of how far Carmy has come, from being closed-off and awkward to finding comfort in kissing his girlfriend's side of a photograph, makes Nat feel like her proudest big sister.

A knock at the door interrupts her reverie, and she quickly wipes away a stray tear before calling out, "Come in."

Tina, the sous chef, pokes her head through the door, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hey, Sugar. Just wanted to give you an update on the kitchen. We're making progress, but it's slow going with all the setbacks. Marcus is working on a new pastry recipe, and Sydney's tweaking the menu again. Oh, and Richie's attempting to fix the mess he made with the ceiling."

Sugar nods, grateful for Tina's update. "Thanks, Tina. Keep up the good work. We'll get through this."

As Tina leaves, Sugar's gaze returns to the photograph on the desk. She cherishes the passion and dedication she had seen in both you and Carmen during these past weeks, now recalling the numerous times she had noticed how you and Carmy had sneaked a kiss or hug when nobody was watching, or how he kept a hand on the small of your back when you were doing anything and he was nearby. Despite the challenges you faced, they always found a way to persevere, fueled by your shared love for cooking and each other.

With a renewed sense of determination, Sugar picks up the phone and dials the number for the fire prevention test. As she waits for someone to answer on the other end, she glances once more at the photograph, drawing strength from the love and resilience it represents.

"We'll make this work," she whispers to herself, her voice filled with conviction. And with that, she dives back into the task at hand, ready to tackle whatever challenges lie ahead and ensure that The Bear opens its doors to the world, just as you and Carmen had dreamed.

This might be chaos, an error, a mess, a raging storm waiting to be tamed, but a kiss smudge might just beat it all.

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmyberzatto x you #the bear fantiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfic

[madwomansapologist]

hiii can we get the “mean/cold to everyone but you” trope w Richie like him only getting you coffee among the bear crew, always sitting next to you during family, etc and everyone noticing esp Tina and making fun of him lmao

being richie jerimovich exception

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Richie Jerimovich | AO3

synopsis: It's hard to deal with Richie. He can be rude, mean and extremely irritating. But not to you. Never to you.

warnings: none.

note: it's funny how this fandom agress that whatever richie does in a romantic situation will be content for a tina's roast session. thanks for your request dear, hope you enjoy it!

• Subtle people would say that Richie is a difficult person. Honest people would say he's an asshole. Truth is relative, because you would say Richie is your honey bun. Dear in public, handsome in private. Pookie when you want to annoy him.

•It turns out that unlike most other people, whether subtle or sincere, you have one thing that sets you apart: Richie loves you. So much it hurts him. And while Richie's natural reaction to grief is to take it out on the culprit, but he wouldn't do that to you. Because that pain is different than anything he ever felt.

• It's a ache. It's a burning that dominates his body. Richie suffers for you, cries for you, spends sleepless nights thinking of you: it's still love. That's how love works. People get tired of spending the night wondering what will happen. Cry in fear of being rejected. Feel their heart break after a fight. But people also exhaust yourself by talking all night instead of sleeping. Feel their stomach flutter from laughing so hard. Cry with emotion.

• Richie doesn't care if he's not normally like this. If normally he doesn't behave so meekly. He loves you, and he knows he needs to show it. Richie has already lost so much, he won't lose you too because of his own pride.

• Richie will spend minutes yelling at Carmy, but as soon as you appear, his face changes. It doesn't matter if he scolded Marcus for having already explained how to do something, if you ask him he'll answer you with a smile on his face. Your tiredness is answered with a cup of coffee. He knows how you prefer it.

• Whether it's you hugging him at the end of the shift, sitting next to him during meetings, Richie's hand stroking your hair: he makes sure to be always as close as he can. It's nice to feel your body heat. And to feel that you want to be close to him too.

• Tina is the first to try to mock him. He always rolls his eyes and turns away without arguing. Richie won't act like it's embarrassing him to show you he loves you. He would never make you think that loving you is a humiliating task.

• After all, everyone needs to have a soft spot. And Richie found his.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

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[garbinge]

Bad Day

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!F!Reader

Summary: A bad day made better by Richie. Continuation of these (in order): Pillow Forts, Soft Spot, Shoulder To Cry On, The Smell of Rain, I’m Sorry

A/N: First of all... SEASON 2!!! AM I RIGHT!?!?! I have so much inspo now for this little universe of one shots that I’m now realizing is more of a multichap but I’m going to keep going with individually naming them and trying my best to keep them as standalones that fit into a bigger picture. I love this little fanfic universe I’ve created for The Bear and reader and hope y’all keep enjoying <3 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+, despite content. Mentions of abuse, angst, arrests, assaults, and arguments. Alludes to sexual situations nothing too crazy, just light steam. 

Words: 3.5k 

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Previous Fic: I’m Sorry

“There’s not much in the attic, if you could just search through it and find the box of cards and send it to me, I’d really appreciate it, honey.” 

You stood outside the restaurant with the phone to your ear, leaned against the brick wall as your father asked for you to search for the rare and expensive baseball cards that probably didn’t exist and if they did were covered in mold and dust. The other aspect of this was, the house was yours, for years now at this point. It was just expected that you would keep it, forever. And up until a month ago, that was true. 

“Yea, I’ll look for them, Dad.” You took a deep breath. 

“Thanks hon, the sooner the better.” 

“I’ll look tonight when I get home from the restaurant, Carmy is actually–”

He cut you off. “Perfect, look, I gotta run, but just ring me when you find them, okay?” And with that he hung up, leaving you with your sentence unfinished and no chance to even say goodbye. 

You dropped the phone into your pocket and brought your hands up to your face and rubbed your eyes as you let out a hard breath. You stared across the street at the bench by the bus stop, ironically the last place you saw your Dad the first time he pulled one of his disappearance acts. This whole town was covered in memories like this, you were standing up against one right now that you were about to help make new. After a few more seconds, you brought yourself to walk into the restaurant. 

“Morning!” You called out, taking your coat off and started searching for someone to tell you what was on the renovation agenda today. 

Silence. That was unusual, especially since the door was unlocked. Which was now being opened and a man with a suit and briefcase that you knew as your realtor was walking in. 

“Hey, sorry to barge in, I tried calling you but it went to voicemail and you told me to come here if I ever needed to reach you.” 

“Yea, yea, all good, any news on the spot on Lincoln?” You asked him eagerly. 

“Another offer was made.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You spoke, it wasn’t news you wanted to hear but you thought you could work with it. “What was the offer, what should we counter?” There was still eagerness in your voice. 

“We don’t.” The realtor spoke, “They offered cash, it’ll clear before we even can send in a counter proposal.” 

“No, I’m going to put my dad’s place on the market, we’ll be able to counter.” You weren’t willing to give up. 

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.” He said, now not even looking at you but at his phone as he spoke to you. “Hey, look, I gotta go.” He started to step back towards the door but before he exited he looked up and pointed at you with the hand that had his phone in it, “but if you need help putting that house on the market I’m your guy! I’ll even do a lower commission rate since we’ve worked together previously!” And with that, he was through the door. 

“Jagoff.” You spoke under your breath. 

Carmy walked in thought he front door just as you finished your mumbling. “Who the fuck was that?” He asked you as he walked through the restaurant. 

“My realtor who just came here and gutted me like your restaurant.” Annoyance was in your voice. 

“Spot on Lincoln?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen with you in tow. 

“Yea, sold to someone with a higher offer.” 

“Probably for the better, anyways.” Carmy said in passing like it meant nothing to you as he walked into the fridge leaving you to sit with his comment. 

“Men fucking suck.” You mumbled under your breath as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back. 

“Morning Lizards!” Richies voice boomed from behind you. “Brought you something.” 

Your head turned at that, confused if he was even talking to you. He was. His lengthy arms reached over your shoulder with a coffee in his hand. 

Instinctually you grabbed it out of his hand. “How’d you even know I’d be here?” You asked him once you realized he only had coffee for you and him. 

“You spend all your days off here.” Richie said as he walked past you. 

“How’d you know it’s my day off?” You asked another question as your eyes looked down at the coffee that was your typical order and also from the coffee bar you worked at. 

“You weren’t at The Coffee Bar so I put two and two together, and if you weren’t here you would have been at some point and you drink that shit cold, luke warm, steaming hot, in an IV, doing a keg stand, nothing stops you from funneling coffee.” Richie was now yelling as he went into the office. 

You took a sip out of the to-go cup. The liquid hit the back of your throat and immediately your eyes went wide. “Fuck me.” You were at a loss for words. This was your typical order. Which meant Richie had to have been paying attention at some point to get it right. Standing frozen in the middle of the kitchen, shocked, you took another sip. Despite all the horrible and annoying shit that just happened this made all of that practically non-existent. 

Unfortunately, the feeling was quick to come and quick to go. The rest of the day was filled with frustration and chaos and while that normally wouldn’t be an issue for you, with the added weight of everything this morning it was just too much to handle. You left the restaurant late, thinking maybe the more work that you put in would clear your mind, but it did the opposite, it just let you marinate in them more. As you walked home in what you hoped was the last of the Chicago chill you found yourself walking past your apartment and right into one of your favorite spots. 

It was late, so the diner was quiet, only a few people. You had ordered waffles and coffee, something sweet to end this sour ass day. You were about to cut into the waffle and take your first bite when someone said something that made you close your eyes in defeat. 

“That’s a lot of food little lady.” 

You chose to ignore the comment from the man who was casting a glooming shadow on your table and food. You continued to bring the fork closer to your mouth and again, just before your bite, the voice spoke again. 

“I’m talking to you, miss.” 

You took a deep breath, and kept your eyes closed as you tilted your head to the side just slightly in hopes that maybe he’d walk away. The sound of the man clearing his throat like he had the right to be annoyed is what did it for you. You dropped your fork and it hit the plate causing it to bounce onto the table and then onto the booth but at this point you were standing up now, only inches away from this man. Now that your eyes were open and you could see the guy it made you even madder. You expected it to be some older man trying to be cheeky, but he was probably around your age, which made the whole situation a lot worse. 

“Woman with appetite and attitude, eh?” He said with the biggest grin on his face. 

That was what pushed you over the edge. With no warning, not that one was needed, you grabbed the side of his face and slammed it into your plate. 

“How’s that for appetite and attitude, dickhead?” You said as you leaned down and smushed his face into the syrupy mess. 

The next thing you knew your hands were going from smashing his face to being pulled behind your back and restrained. There was probably more that happened in between, but nothing that you remember. Getting into a cop car wasn’t on your agenda for the night but hey, just the cherry on top of a shitty day. 

You leaned your head against the white brick wall as you held the payphone against your ear. Your eyes were closed as you heard the phone ring a couple times. 

“Yea?” 

Your eyes were already closed, but hearing his voice made you close them even tighter. 

“Can you pick me up?”  You asked with your face scrunched.

You didn’t need to say your name, Richie knew it was you and knew where you were. 

“CPD or Northwestern?” His voice was neutral. 

“CPD.” You turned around so that your back was against the wall versus your head. 

“Fuck.” Richie mumbled. Northwestern was the department that handled smaller charges, minor offenses, Chicago Police Department was a step up from that.  “I’m on my way.” 

As you walked out into the police station you saw Richie standing directly in front of you, in the middle of the lobby. His face was neutral, much like his tone on the phone. You probably looked like shit, disheveled from spending the last two hours in jail. 

“You alright?” He asked as you trekked out with a plastic bag of your belongings.

You nodded and bumped into him as he stood there. “Can you take me home?” He was quick to throw his arm around you and guide you out of the station. 

“Yea, of course. I’m parked out front.” 

Richie opened your door for you before walking over to his side of the car. You turned to look in the backseat and saw Eva’s empty car seat. You let out a deep sigh and moved to look at Richie as he got into the car. 

“Tell me you didn’t have Eva tonight.” 

“What?” He said as he got situated in the car and then looked over his shoulder at what you were talking about. “Oh, nah, I’m taking her to school tomorrow morning.” 

“Fuck, Rich, I’m sorry.” You brought your hand up to your face in shame practically. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I was up.” 

“You’re being too nice to me.” The words just fell out of your mouth. 

Richie let out a laugh. “Too nice?” He asked, confused. 

“Bringing me coffee, bailing me out in the middle of the night.” You listed, and when you said it out loud it hit you that it wasn’t really all that big of a deal. Especially considering that in a way, Richie owed you on the whole bail thing. “It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

The rest of the ride was quiet as he drove back to your apartment. It wasn’t awkward, it was just, quiet. As you pulled up to your apartment, you looked over at Richie, ready to thank him and go upstairs but another set of words came out. 

“Do you wanna come up?” You asked and immediately back tracked. “I mean totally okay if not, I know you gotta pick up Eva in the morning, I don’t want to fuck up your sched–”

“I’ll come up.” 

With that, you nodded. 

You pushed the door to your apartment open, it was heavier than usual and that didn’t go unnoticed by Richie. 

You both stepped into your place and his eyes immediately fell on the boxes which is what was causing issues with the door. 

“You movin’ or some shit?” Richie closed the door as he stared at the boxes. 

“What?” Your face wrinkled in confusion as you moved to the kitchen and grabbed your water pitcher. With two glasses in your hand as you placed them onto your kitchen island, you looked over to Richie who was staring at the boxes. “Oh, no, they’re from my dad’s place. I was planning on selling the house, so I started to clear it out, but now, who the fuck knows, and I gotta look through the boxes for the stupid baseball cards because they might be worth a couple fuckin’ cents and dad’s gotta drink.” You were rambling now. 

“Alright, breath, take a breath.” Richie took a few steps forward so that he was in the kitchen with you now. “What about baseball cards?” 

“My dad called this morning.” You handed Richie a glass of water. “First time in like, I don’t know, a year maybe?” You let out a laugh as your head shook. “Asked me to look for his baseball cards because they’re worth something. It’s like he just expects everything to be in the same place from when he left 15 fuckin’ years ago. But I mean, is he wrong?” You looked up at Richie. “I tried to sell the place, and uh,” you felt your voice crack as you fought back tears, “then he calls, and then the bid on the place on Lincoln falls through, and then I get fuckin’ arrested.” You started to spiral, the tears falling from your face. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” He brought you into a hug, “breathe, breathe, breathe, sweetheart.” 

The minute he brought you in for a hug, the sobs come out. His hand moved up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t know how much time passed by, but you just stood there wrapped in Richie’s embrace as you let everything you bottled up, out. 

Finally, when the tears stopped you pulled away from Richie, wiping any residue from your breakdown away. Richie didn’t step back to give you space, he stood in the same spot, his hand now resting on your arm as your hand covered your mouth. 

“So the spot on Lincoln didn’t work out, you got other options, there’s other spots, I know you got a list,” Richie started to ramble before he realized you weren’t really listening. His eyes moved around when they landed on a plastic cup that had green tape on it. 

2 OJ espresso + Guatemalan Grinds

You were mixing your own coffee blends. Immediately Richie’s eyes lit up. 

“Make your own.” He said, shaking his head and then looking down at you. 

“What?” 

“Make your own, brand that shit and sell it into places, stores, markets, coffee shops.” Richie started naming off places as he stared at you gauging for your response. 

“And restaurants.” You looked up at him, both of your smiles growing on your face. “Richie, you’re fuckin’ brilliant.” 

“It’s your doing.” He pointed to the cup with coffee in it next to the fridge. 

“Citrus Mix.” You let out a chuckle, “I’m still working on it.” 

“Why you gettin’ arrested?” Richie said, changing the subject. 

“I know they read you the charges before you sign the papers.” 

“Yea and that’s why I know it ain’t like you to get locked up for simple assault.” His eyebrows raised. 

“The guy had it coming.” You defended yourself. 

“Yea, they usually do, what I’m saying is that you usually don’t.” Richie’s voice was soft, he wasn’t reprimanding you, but just keeping you real. 

“It’s been a bad day.”  You still gave excuses, not ready to have this conversation. 

“Yea, I heard. Still not putting it together, though.” 

You pulled away from Richie and grabbed the plastic cup he was looking at earlier. Grabbing ice from the freezer and dropping it into the cup, you immediately went to open the fridge and look for the lemonade bottle and sparkling water. You poured the lemonade into the coffee and splashed a little seltzer by holding your thumb at the top of the bottle. Quickly, you pulled the utensil drawer out and grabbed a straw before stirring it three times. 

“Try this.” You said handing him the cup. 

“I just saw you put lemonade into a cup of coffee. I don’t think I want to try that.” He argued, pushing your hand away. 

“Do you trust me?”

Richie didn’t answer the question, he just grabbed the cup. “I’m not drinking from the fuckin’ straw.” He mumbled as he tucked it behind his finger and took a sip. “Fuck me.” His face lit up as he took a sip. 

“And that’s 15 hour stale coffee. Imagine if it was fresh.” You crossed your arms and looked at him. 

“I don’t want you assaulting anyone.” He said contemplating taking another sip of the drink. 

“And I don’t want to be harassed.” You still argued with him. 

“I don’t want to pick you up from CPD, again.” He countered with you. 

“Alright. But you can’t take Northwestern off the table.” You negotiated with him, the slightest smirk filling your face. 

He smiled back at you. “Fine, Northwestern stays on the table.” 

“Isn’t it crazy how you’re still the most reliable person in my life.” You joked back to the night he was last at your place, not long after Mikey’s passing. 

“Still think you need to surround yourself with better company.” 

“I like the company I keep.” You stared at Richie as you spoke. 

“I, uh, can help you look for the cards.” He pointed back to the boxes behind him. 

An exhale left your mouth as you stared at him. “They aren’t going to be in those boxes, they were from my old room, that's why I brought them here. The ones with the cards are probably in the attic.” 

“I can help you go through these, too.” He was staring back at you now. Your heart was beating so loud, you were nervous he could hear it but his was beating so loud he was thinking the same thing. Maybe the noise of your own hearts thumping so fast and hard were echoing in your ears so loud you couldn’t hear the other. You looked at Richie, really looked at him. The scruff on his face, the bags under his blue eyes, his blue fuckin’ eyes. There was a moment where you just got lost in them, thinking about this moment, standing in front of him. Despite your heart growing inside your body begging to explode, you felt calm. You felt safe. You felt seen. He wasn’t just staring at you, he was looking at you, seeing you, hearing you. 

Before your brain could comprehend another thought, it was telling your feet to rise on its toes. And you did. It didn’t gain you much height but Richie’s brain must’ve been telling him to lean down because in seconds your faces were inches then centimeters from each other. 

Your lips brushed against his briefly, which sent a shiver down your spine that was met with warmth as his hand grazed across your back. 

You kissed him. It felt quick, but anything would have felt quick when you wanted nothing else than to spend the next hour kissing Richie. 

“Do you wanna stay?” You whispered against his mouth. 

He nodded, clearly in no mood to waste time talking, his lips took yours and he let his hand get brought up to your face. 

“It’s Thursday.” He said against your mouth like it meant something. “Street cleaning is tomorrow.” 

“Wow, you really know how to set the mood.” You whispered back against his mouth, your arm reaching to rest over his neck. 

He let out a small laugh, the air went against your face as it was exhaled, the smell of coffee and citrus hit you and it mixed with the smell of the cologne you told him you loved the scent of. 

“You have to leave early to drop Eva off at school.” You whispered to him. “You’ll be out of here way before street cleaning.” 

“You got all the answers don’t you.” His voice was raspy as he leaned into you more and pressed one more kiss to your mouth, this one hotter and heavier than any of the last few, he moved you quickly from the kitchen and into the space closer to your bedroom. 

“One condition.” You spoke with your back up against the wall that connected your door to the hinges. 

“Hm.” Richie said as he kissed down your neck. 

“You get me coffee tomorrow morning. Same thing as this morning.” 

He pulled away and his eyebrows flinched close together as he looked at you with his lips rising to a smirk. “You liked what I got you?” He tried to play dumb. 

“You got me my order. You know my order.” You looked at him with your own eyebrows raised. 

“I know a few more things, too.” He went back to kissing your neck, his hand moving into your hair. 

You reached for the door handle of your room and pushed it open, grabbing his shirt and bringing him closer, as if that was even possible, as you ushered into your room. You both turned and you brought your knee up to close the door shut with your foot, not that it really mattered since you two were alone in the apartment. He slammed you up against the door now, which would have closed the door way easier than your foot. You both took a minute to catch your breath as he pinned you against the wall, your one leg now being wrapped around his waist and being held up by his tight grip on your thigh. 

“Show me what you got, Jerimovich.”

Next Fic: You Suck

#The Bear #The Bear FX #The Bear Fanfiction #The Bear Fanfic #richie jerimovich #richie fuckin jerimovich #Richie Jerimovich x Reader #Richie Jerimovich x You #carmy berzatto #Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader

[mayfieldss]

Oooo for Secret santa can I please request a Carmy x fem!reader where he proposes on Christmas?

Our boy is stressed

Carmen was not in any way calm. He was trying to be, but in his mind there were a thousand possible things that could go wrong. He'd never been afraid of the word no—he didn't like it, but he wasn't afraid of it—but today, he was terrified.

He had a ring in his pocket, simple and elegant, picked with the helped of Sugar, and she'd promised Carmen that you would say yes. She said she was sure of it, that nothing was going to go wrong.

You loved him and he loved you. Nothing could break what you had. Except maybe a ring and a question he'd wanted to ask for weeks now. He knew asking you to marry him on Christmas would either make or break the special day, and considering how bad Berzatto Christmas day's had been in the past, Carmen really didn't want anything to make it worse. Like you saying no for example. But maybe, if you said yes he could ignore everything else crashing down around him, because he would have you, and the knowledge that he would get to be your husband.

He'd woken up early that morning and snuck out of bed to prepare the scene, but the more he looked at it, it all seemed too much. Would he scare you off with the roses he'd placed in a vase on the table, or with the gingerbread scented candle he'd lit that morning?

When you woke up though, stepping groggily into the kitchen for coffee, you seemed happy.

"Merry Christmas, Carm." You mumbled as you came in for a good morning kiss. The small peck left him feeling flushed on the cheeks even though it was a common enough occurrence, and when you turned to see the flowers on the table a smile lit up your features.

"For me?" you whispered in delight and Carmen gave you a gentle nod, following you to the flowers with his hand placed softly against your back.

"Only if you want 'em." he jokes, and you grin over your shoulder as you pull one of the roses from the vase, inhaling deeply.

"Thank you." You coax him forward to give him another kiss, showing him just how much you appreciate the gesture. Carmen feels fulfilled for a moment, and the stress leaves him as he digs his fingers into the flesh below your hips. He thinks maybe he can convince you to stay like this the whole day, and you can, together, ignore the madness of Christmas from everyone else's perspectives. But he knows that isn't possible, that you have to go see your family, and then his to keep the peace. The peace is important.

He cooks you breakfast and you eat together, in no rush as the morning drags by, and when Carmy finally convinces you to head to the lounge so he can give you a gift or two, it's almost midday.

"Me first," You say, picking up a gift with "Carmy" written on it in scribbled letters. You hand it to him gently, cautious as if you're afraid he won't like it. He takes it from you just as softly, and you shuffle closer, legs crossed on the couch beside him.

When he opens the gift, its a hand decorated frame, a picture of you and Carmen standing outside the restaurant placed behind the glass. It's simple but it warms his heart, and he reaches out for you, tugging you into his side.

"I love you, baby." he mutters against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. There's a wide smile on your lips when he pulls back to look at you, and a hopeful glimmer in your eye.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I like it. I love it."

He hands you a gift, which as you unwrap it, is a pathetic box of heart shaped chocolates, but you smile and thank him anyway, not caring about the gifts at all. He gets from you a denim jacket, new and unique, and finally the time comes for him to face his fears.

"I've got one more thing," He says, clearing his throat nervously, "Well, it's more a question than a thing, I don't know, fuck, you'll see." He can feel the weight of the ring in his pocket and he wonders how he should do this. In the movies they always get down on one knee, hold up the ring like it's a crown waiting to be worn, but to Carmen that doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you and him.

He sits on the couch facing you, legs crossed and mimicking your position until you're looking at each other in something kind of like a trust exercise. You're grinning as Carmen sits anxious in front of you and the eye contact makes you snort a quiet laugh.

"What is it?" You ask, poking his knee affectionately.

"I uh, fuck." Carmy reaches into his pocket, and now there's no turning back. You're looking at him expectantly, a little nervous yourself with how much anxiety is radiating from his being. When you see the small box in his hand, the navy blue velvet square makes your eyes widen. "I love you. I know I don't say it enough but I do, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you'll let me." He opens the box, gently, presenting you with the ring inside. "Will you marry me, baby?" His voice is shaky and he watches as your hands come up to cover your mouth in shock, eyes flickering from the ring in front of you to Carmen's face in disbelief.

"Yes, I'll fucking marry you, oh my god!"

Before Carmen can think of putting the ring on your finger you're leaping into his lap, wrapping him up in the tightest hug ever as you both tumble off the couch from the force of your embrace. He doesn't have time to say anything either, because you're kissing him like a madwoman, you're excitement clear.

"Merry fucking Christmas." Carmy mumbles when he can finally get a word in, holding you tight against his body.

I hope you like it! thanks for joining in the celebration!

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @diorrfairy @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

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

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #the bear imagines #the bear imagine #holiday celebration 🍾

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭

Finders, Keepers.

16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates

Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 1185

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The Roommate Collection.

Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.

He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.

He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.

You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.

"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"

Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.

"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."

You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.

You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.

Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"

"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."

"Waffles it is."

Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.

"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.

The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.

"Is that my shirt?"

You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."

"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."

You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.

"Are you... alright, Carmy?"

"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."

"... like what?"

"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."

He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.

He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.

"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.

"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."

You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.

Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.

He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.

As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.

"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."

You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.

"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?

You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.

"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."

You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.

"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.

"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.

"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #the bear #the bear fanfic #the bear fanfiction #the bear imagine #jeremy allen white #the bear smut #the bear x reader #murphy's 500 followers celebration

[zablife]

Favorite Ex

Summary: When Carmy’s stress and anxiety rise to unprecedented levels, he shuts down and pushes you away. However, you can’t stop thinking about each other.

Author’s Note: Inspired by Maisie Peter’s song “Favourite Ex" and lines from S1, E5 which I've italicized.

Warnings: language, mention of fire, angst, break up, fluffy ending

Shades of orange consumed Carmy’s vision, searing heat hitting his face, neck and arms as flames rose dangerously high from the burners. His hands should have reached for the fire extinguisher instead of remaining by his side, arm hairs singing to oblivion. In that moment he wasn’t sure if he was unable or unwilling to guide himself, but he was well aware it wasn’t normal, this lack of concern for his own well being. As black smoke collected around him, the shifting light danced in his darkened pupils, but he wasn’t present, his thoughts were far away with you. 

———————-

The light flickered above the kitchen sink as he watched you fill the coffee pot, the need for caffeine growing after days of getting up before five every day this week. “Carmy, did you pay the electric bill?” you demanded with a huff. You were always short with him recently and he knew he was letting you down, but the days at the restaurant were wearing on him.

Turning back to blow smoke out the window, he rubbed his eyes, trying to recall which bills he’d been able to take care of this month. 

“Are you listening to me? They’re gonna cut you off again. I told you last week about the notice,” you said, reaching for the stack of papers piled high on the counter. Unable to find what you were looking for in the chaos, you gave up, placing your fingertips to your temples. “Look, Carmy, I know you wanted me to move here permanently, but I think that was just the grief talking.”

Carm grimaced as he flicked the cigarette butt out the window. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean, you needed someone here with you after Mikey—“ you began, but he cut you off, jumping up from the window and pushing past you to stalk down the hall.

“Don’t do that!” you warned him.

“What?” he muttered as he kept walking.

“That thing you do where you walk away and don’t talk to me for days. I can’t stand it!”

He turned on his heel, facing you with clenched jaw. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say when you tell me you’re here out of pity.”

You furrowed your brow at his accusation. “That’s not what I said. I want to be here, but not if you won’t talk to me about what’s going on with you. You just shut me out and I need more!” You’d finally said what had been on your mind for weeks now, too afraid to voice your own needs when your boyfriend was struggling with major life changes.

“Well, I can’t do that,” he shouted. His words were so harsh it felt like a stab to the back. You’d been there for him since he got the call about Mikey and sat with him night after night when he had horrific nightmares, waking covered in sweat, but unwilling to say a word about them.

“Do you know how many people need me right now? Syd and Tina are at each other’s throats, Richie’s always starting shit and Sugar’s calling me twenty times a day about meetings and talking to Ma. I don’t need this from you too. I can’t do this!” he said, body suddenly going deathly still, eyes fixing on a water stain on the wall just as the lights went out.

Observing his rigid posture, you knew he’d shut down. It was how he coped with stress and even though you hated it, you had to accept that you weren’t going to get any more out of him today. You wiped a tear from your cheek as you nodded to yourself. 

“Okay, Carmy. I’m gonna give you some space then,” you conceded, leaving him in the darkened hallway. He listened to the front door slam behind you as he rested his forehead against the adjacent doorway, knowing he’d fucked it all up and hating himself more than he already did.

——————————

“Carmy! Carmy!” A voice shouted, breaking through his haze and urging him to act. “Fire, chef!” Sweeps warned, moving up to take charge of the blaze. Carm finally moved back, shaking his head as though he were just realizing what was happening. Grabbing the fire extinguisher from the other man’s hands he pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle at the flames lapping at the stove, watching as a thick spurt of white foam issued forth. The fire died out with a sizzle and Carm breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Yo, Jeff, what happened?” Tina asked, popping her head around the corner.

“Fire’s out,” Sweeps declared, hauling the extinguisher off swiftly. Carmy turned to Tina, snapping back into work mode and asked, “Sorry, everything's fine. Did you finish your prep?” 

“Yeah, you alright?” she said with concern, glancing up and down his disheveled form.

“I need to go take care of something,” he mumbled, heading for the alley.

————————-

Your phone rang and you immediately reached to silence it, stopping when you noticed Carm’s number flash on the screen. It had been three months since you’d spoken and you wondered if you should even answer. He’d made it clear that a relationship was not what he wanted right now and you had made peace with that….until now. You had to admit you missed him.

Your best nights had been with Carmy, listening to music in his tiny kitchen as you cooked together. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips as he checked the progress of the sauce over your shoulder. “More garlic,” he’d say with authority. 

“Fuck your one star, I’m the chef tonight,” you always told him. His smirk told you he was pleased with your assertiveness, happy not to have make any decisions for the night. However, your need to take charge caused your worst fights as well. You wanted Carm to talk about Mikey and the more you pushed, the more he retreated from you. He said you didn’t understand, but you cared deeply, wanting to help him through his grief. Simply wanting to take care for him if only he'd let you.

The buzzing from your phone continued and you finally decided to pick up, more eager than you should have been to hear his voice again. You cleared your throat anxiously before answering with a shaky, “Carmy?”

“Y/n? Sorry, I know it’s late,” he apologized.

“S’okay. What’s going on?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you picked at your pajama bottoms nervously.

“We had a fire at the restaurant today,” he began.

“Oh, my God, Carm, are you okay?” you blurted, worried about how calm he sounded despite what he’d just told you.

“Yeah, yeah. It was just a grease fire, you know? But the point is, I realized something. I was watching it and I had a minute where I thought—If I don’t do anything, this place will burn down and all my anxiety will go away with it,” he sighed heavily and your heart nearly broke at the sound, listening to him open up to you in a way you knew was difficult for him. 

“And then I put the fire out,” he finished. “I snapped out of it and I realized I’ve been avoiding a lot of things….I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t think I could handle it all. Like I was waiting for Mikey to come back and fix all the fucked up shit he left, but I’m done with that. I want live my life for me.”

You nodded into the phone, lip trembling as you replied, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I haven’t slept without you. I’ve cried for weeks. Nothing feels right without you, but I’m going to start making some changes around here and I hope you’ll come back,” he said, swallowing harshly as he awaited your answer. 

You searched the ceiling, wanting to say yes right away, but knowing how Carmy’s mood could change on a dime. “That sounds really good so let’s start with dinner first, ok?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he rushed out, relieved to hear you would see him again. “You free Thursday?”

“Thursday? Sure,” you agreed. 

Then you heard him breathe into the phone as though he was letting out an anxious breath. “You still like chicken piccata?” he asked and you smiled, knowing he remembered your favorite. 

“Only if you let me help make the sauce,” you countered. “Fucking one star,” you quipped. You heard him laugh and it warmed your heart.

You liked the thought of calling him that again instead of your ex. He was your favorite ex, but that wasn't really a consolation. You hoped things were changing for the better, but only time would tell.

#The Bear fanfic #The Bear imagine #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #Carmy x y/n #Carmy x you #carmy berzatto fanfiction

[yellowharrington]

all i really want (is you) -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: 3k

warnings: smut! 18+, minors pls dni. afab!reader with pullable hair, no use of y/n. light daddy kink and dom/sub undertones. spanking, exhibitionism, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected piv + creampie, reader and carmy both drink alcohol. please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: this is depraved. thanks @wtfsteveharrington for reigniting my need to write about carmy lmao. title is from "all i really want is you" by the marias. please leave comments or reblogs if you liked it <3

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: carmy secretly books a lake-front hotel room in chicago for your anniversary.

Carmy would be the first to admit he’s not very good at being romantic.

He forgets, lets things slip through the cracks, time and time again. He makes up for it, and you understand of course, but he’s working on it.

When your anniversary is approaching, he knows he has to make a plan. Busy with the restaurant, the menu, the money - all of it was overwhelming, but your not-so-subtle reminder of the date gave him the idea.

“So…” you had joined him in your shared kitchen, hand brushing through his curls as he slaved over a pan sauce he’d been perfecting.

“Yes?” He wasn’t annoyed - never annoyed, by you - but in the thralls of cooking, nonetheless.

“It’s our anniversary next weekend and I was thinking we’d try out that new restaurant you were talking about. You know… the one that’s suuuuuper hard to get a reservation at?” You smiled coyly as he held out the spoon with the hot liquid on it, wordlessly asking you for a taste-test. 

“Sounds good,” he had remarked, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and returning to the task at hand. “I’ll make a call.”

“Thank you, Carm,” you let your hands roam his clothed back as you feel the sauce between your lips and on your tongue. “That’s delicious.”

He hummed in response, as your hands drifted down to his sides and played at the hem of his t-shirt. “After our anniversary dinner I have a little… present for you.”

Before he could respond, you had slipped away to the bedroom, only flashing him a smirk before closing the door.

The weekend of your anniversary had approached quickly, and Carmy had actually managed to get everything in place. The reservation for dinner was set, his gift burning a hole in his pocket, and thoughts of what your gift to him may entail swirling around in his head. 

You walked out of your shared bedroom, adorning a black dress that hugged your body perfectly. Jewelry to match - done up just right, effortlessly perfect for the occasion. His hand came up to his mouth as he took you in, thanking whatever God above that brought you to him.

“Too much?” You asked, toying with your hair in the mirror and correcting the edge of your lipstick. 

“No,” Carmy answered, coming up behind you in the mirror and admiring your form. “Perfect.”

You felt yourself blush as he took your hand and held it to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pulling you into him. “Ready?” 

~

Dinner came and passed, shared glasses of wine between the two of you as you reminisced about past times together. Carmy had always been shy, but easy to talk to, especially when he had some time to open up. You gave him space to do that - he’d never felt more comfortable with anybody before, somebody he trusted with everything. You listened, told him what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it, and kept him in check all while supporting him from the sidelines and meshing perfectly into his insane life. He was eternally grateful for finding you.

He slides a small box across the table at dinner, and when you open it up, you gasp at what’s inside. A dainty necklace, a glossy “C” hanging on the end of it, where it would sit against your chest. 

You let his deft fingers close the tiny clasp behind your neck, the pendant hanging perfectly, glimmering in the amber candlelight of the restaurant. “You’re gonna make me cry,” you laugh through a watery smile, Carmy’s hand crossing the table to slide into yours. Warm skin against warm skin, you smile at his small display of affection, tilting your glass towards him as he clinked it with yours. 

You notice something might be up when you get back into his car, and he doesn’t take the turn off back to your shared apartment. Instead, he veers off into another lane, holding onto your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze for encouragement. 

You’re down by the water now, making a confused expression at your surroundings. City lights around you, the bustling of other people on dates or nights out, as Carmy pulls into the parking lot of a hotel. 

“What are we doing here?” You look at the people stepping into the hotel lobby, some dressed in clothing that was probably more than your rent. He wordlessly turns off his car and exits through the driver’s side, saying something to the valet before grabbing a bag out of the back seat and rounding back to your side. He opens the door for you and takes your hand, before leading you through the doors and into the grand front lobby.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling above as he took your hand and lead you to the front desk, a confused scowl still across your features. The person at the front desk waved you two over, typing something into the computer. “Good evening. Checking in?”

Carmy nods, handing over his ID and credit card before smiling down at you.

“We’re checking in?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

You have to make sure your mouth isn’t hanging open, as Carmy’s coy smile plays along his lips. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you whisper to him, feeling heat spread across your cheeks as you take in your surroundings. Your hand slips into his as you press your cheek to his jacketed shoulder. “Let me show you to your room.”

An elevator ride to the top floor has you antsy, as the attendant opens the door for you to your room. She reveals a lake-front room, with views of the harbour, twinkling lights in the distance reflecting onto the massive floor-to-ceiling window. “Is it to your liking, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto?”

A blush runs up your cheeks as the insinuation. Carmy didn’t correct her, just slipped her a tip and assured her the room was perfect. The door clicked politely behind you as you stepped into the room and kicked off your shoes. You turned around to meet Carmy’s eyes as his expression softened, your hands coming up to cup his face.

“I can’t believe you did this.” You’re breathless, still taking in this grand gesture he’d somehow planned completely behind your back.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, tongue darting between his lips as a strong hand came to overlap yours. 

~

The sun had gone down now, navy sky further illuminating the lights below. Rain slacked against the window, simultaneously hard and soft, the glow of the bedside lamps casting shadows on the walls as you got yourself settled. Carmy had abandoned his jacket and tie, leaving him in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks. He was laid back on the bed, one hand behind his head, taking some time to relax.

You dipped into the bathroom, smoothing out your hair and checking your makeup in the mirror. You undid the back of your dress and let it slip down your body into a pool on the tile, revealing the gift you’d picked out for Carmy. A black lace set - cupping your breasts perfectly. Lace panties to match, connected to stockings that came high up on your thighs. 

You stepped out, stocking-clad feet soft against the carpet. Carmy immediately notices, eyes blown wide as he sits up to take you in. 

“Thought you might want your gift now,” you sauntered towards him and met him at the end of the bed, his thighs spread for you to fit between them. His hands immediately came up to touch - to confirm you were real, mostly - because his brain was telling him you weren’t.

You looked down at him, cupping his chin with your hand and the other coming down to his shoulder. Pushing down on him gently, his back hit the mattress, wild eyes not moving off of you for even a second. 

You move to straddle his lap, fingers coming down to start unfurling the buttons on his shirt, revealing the soft skin of his chest. Carmy’s rough, calloused fingertips pressed into the plush skin of your hips, eyes wanting to flutter closed but being too entranced by the sight before him to look away. 

His fiery eyes fell to the swell of your breasts, hands coming up to press and squeeze at the skin there, thumbs ghosting over your hard nipples. You felt your back arch, pressing against his palms, wanting more, as much of him as you could get. 

Carmy’s hands slid down your body to find your clothed core, eliciting a small moan from your lips. You rutted into his hand slightly, feeling his skilful fingers start to work at you over the lace.

You weren’t expecting to give him the upper hand, but it was hard not to submit to his touch - wholly his, looking down at him but still feeling as though he had all the power.

He was sitting up now, pushing your panties to the side and feeling the slick between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you through it all. “Carm,” you panted, strained, embarrassed to be coming apart for him already.

As if he knew, he pulled away, wordlessly bringing his fingers up to your lips. You wrapped your mouth around them, letting your tongue dart between the digits as he wet them with your spit.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, earnest eyes looking up at you, fuzzy around the edges with lust. “My pretty slut, aren’t you?”

“Just for you,” you replied, a smirk on the corner of your lip as he swiftly grabbed your hips and flipped you to have your back on the soft hotel comforter.

He stood before you, giving you a chance to unbutton the rest of his shirt and undo his dress pants, his hand now cradling your chin. You pushed his slacks to the floor, rubbing his thick cock over the fabric of his black boxers. His hand came down to pet your hair, taking a fistful of it at the nape and pulling it back to reveal your shiny lips and eager eyes to him. The pendant he purchased for you glinted in the light.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

His firm hand on the back of your neck was enough to make your cunt weep, even without his touch. “Please, I need your cock. Please.”

“Good girl. Sit up, all fours.”

You quickly found yourself on your knees on the soft bed, as he let his cock free. He pumped it a few times, angling your mouth with his grip to allow it to drop open. He pressed forward, slipping in between your wet lips and eliciting a carnal groan from his throat. You let yourself submit to his face-fucking, using your mouth to get himself off, leaking tip pressing against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, throat constricting, which only emboldened him to continue. Spit escaped the corners of your lips as you took him in, swallowing him down, all while looking up and batting your long lashes at him. 

“Taking it so good,” he remarked, with a particularly long thrust into your throat. Leaning forward, his broad hand found a fistful of your ass, squeezing it before planting a firm spank. A yelp escaped your lips, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the force of him in your throat.  

He pulled you off, cock bobbing between his legs before he smeared the spit that had collected all over your plush lips. “So fucking good for me, baby.”

You smiled triumphantly as he leaned down to kiss you sloppily, mixing your spit with his and taking the time to undo your bra and throw it to the ground. 

You didn’t even mind when he pushed you back onto the bed, pulling the stockings and panties off to meet your bra on the floor, surely ripping them. His hands pushed your thighs apart, wet pussy on full display as he dove right in, not giving you even a second to catch your breath.

“Fu-uck,” your voice was hoarse and jagged, his warm tongue feeling like it was everywhere. You squirmed beneath his strong squeeze, forcing your back off the mattress as he licked a broad stripe up your centre and flashed his eyes up at you.

Your eyes were trained on his movements, knowing better than to close them. Your hand came down to his sandy curls, feeling your breath quicken as he suckled on your clit, moving his jaw in such a way that was sending an electrifying pulse up your spine.

He moved one hand from your thigh to circle your entrance with his middle finger, enjoying the way you shuddered at the feeling. “Please,” you begged, watching as he detached his tongue from your clit to simply play with your hole. “Please, I need you inside of me.”

His lips pursed as he waited for you to understand why he wasn’t proceeding. A knowing glance, a sob from you as he teased you. “Are you talking to me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me with your fingers.”

“That’s better.” He plunged into you, thick finger curling inside as you let out a choked sob, your cunt pulsing around him as he moved in and out. His lips attached to your clit once again, sucking and grinding his tongue into you, other hand coming up along your stomach to grab your tit and pinch your nipple.

You rasped his name, throat raw from his previous fucking, letting it pour out of your lips over and over. He lapped at you - feeling every quiver from your pussy and shake of your legs as he continued at a bruising pace, not letting up no matter how much you squirmed beneath him. Still pushing you into the mattress, his own cock rutting against the sheets and growing harder every second that his mouth is on you.

A white-hot feeling spread across the back of your thighs, back arched as you tugged on his hair and met his gaze. He rode out your high with you, letting you gush around his fingers and feeling waves of pleasure rise and fall as your breath steadied. Your chest heaving, sticky with sweat, mascara smeared at the edges as you laid back, feeling Carmy’s fingers pull out and his mouth detach from you.

He found himself between your thighs once more, rock-hard cock sliding between your slick folds to tease your overly sensitive clit. He kissed you, a hunger within him, arms coming up under you to hold you as close as possible. Bare skin against bare skin, his mouth sucking in your bottom lip and biting down slightly, eliciting a smile from you and a depraved moan from your lips.

You reached down between your two bodies and slipped his cock into your ready pussy, swallowing him inside of you and hearing his gasp against your lips at the friction. A shameless grunt as his hips drove into you relentlessly, his curls falling into your face as your head tipped back, letting his mouth attach to the side of your throat and suck a bruise into the soft skin beneath your ear. Your hands found the strong muscles of his back, digging them into his skin and finding your legs wrapping around his middle.

An assaulting pace, languidly in and out of you as you met his eyes, pure lust and fire behind them. You could see the idea flash across his eyes.

He pulled out of you gingerly, as you winced at the loss of contact. He pulled you up with him, towards the windows of the hotel room.

He lightly pushed you against the cold glass, earning a sinful moan from your lips as he took your hands hostage behind your back. The rain still pelted down outside, a symphony against your hard and fast breath.

“Why don’t you show all those people how you like to get fucked, huh? Show them what a slut you are?”

A devilish smile on your lips was met with your cheek against the glass, a broad palm on the opposite side of your face, as his cock slid back into your pussy with ease. Your ass was pushed out for him to land a firm slap on it once again, picking up his pace. His hand came around to push your legs apart, playing with your clit and drawing you close once again, as he released your hands to leave prints on the glass.

“Fill me up, please daddy,” you moaned, letting your head fall slack. “I want you to cum so fucking deep inside of me, fuck,” — another spank, paired with jagged thrusts as Carmy got closer to finishing — “fuck me like you own me, baby.”

“I do own you,” he growled, forehead pressed against your shoulder blades as he felt your pussy clench around him. “Cum baby, cum with all those people fucking watching you.” 

“You own me Carmen, I’m yours.” you chanted, turning around to meet his eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over and jaw hang open as his thrusts slowed, making a mess of your pussy as he came deep inside of you.

Your second orgasm followed soon after, cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around him. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you stepped away from the glass, legs unstable as a furious warmth came up over your cheeks.

After getting cleaned up together in the bathroom, he flicked off the light as you turned towards the window. His body pressed up against yours, arm secured around your waist as he peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders, musing about how beautiful you are.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered, another kiss to the outer shell of your ear that made a shiver go up your spine. “I love you more than anything.”

You curled into him and listened to the relaxing rain, his steadying breath and strong arm lulling you safely to sleep.

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

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | just pretend

[ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen start off on the wrong foot and richie stirs the pot.

word count. 3.5k

warnings. language, hardly proofread but i tried

authors note. lets goooo, this is based off of this headcanon that i would recommend reading before this chapter(kinda treat it as a prologue)--lets get to part one!

"Richie, you dick."

If you had a dime for everytime Richard Jerimovich managed to inconvenience you, you could probably buy the Bean three times over.

But this, this really takes the cake. 

“Well if it isn’t our little college graduate here in good ol’ Orleans Street,” Richie cheers, throwing his hands in the air in fake surprise as a smirk rises slowly onto his face. You feel like if you were to glare at the man any harder, you might actually make his head explode.

“What brings you here, sweetheart?”

You take a minute to try to collect yourself before you absolutely blow up in Richie’s face. Carmen stands directly across from you, just behind the bar, dressed in a dirtied white tee stained in a sauce of some kind. He’s very obviously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning over the bar and seemingly very interested in the walls around you. 

“If I recall correctly, you asked me to come here, Richie,” you grit out, gripping the tote bag that hangs over your shoulder tighter. You press your lips together before a choice few words slide from between your teeth.

You see Carmen tense up at what you said, shoulders hunching up before dropping almost as quickly. The dirty blonde brings a hand up to his forehead in what you can only assume to be pure disbelief. 

You continue. “You called me literally like, two hours ago.”

“Really, me? You sure it wasn’t another Richie? Maybe a Rick?”

“Richie, please don’t piss me off right now. I swear to God–”

A loud slam interrupts the developing argument and nealyr sends you flying out of your skin.

Your eyes dart over to Carmen, whose hands are splayed flat across the span of the bar. His head is tilted down, curls falling to cover almost all of what you could see of his face. He takes a breath before turning his head to look at the older man behind him. 

His face is a bright red, angry flush sinking down past the collar of his shirt.

“Richie, you motherfucker,” he grits out, dragging a hand down his mouth before slamming his fist on the bar counter, rattling the plates and miscellaneous cups that littered across it. Richie tenses up behind him, catching on to the anger almost radiating off of him.

"Why the fuck would you invite her here?" Carmen yells, speaking of you like you weren't only a couple feet away from him. You frown, insulted at his disregard of you.

"Oh believe me, I hardly am jumping to be here myself, Berzatto." You spit.

Richie raises his hands in defense, taking a step back as Carmen bucks up towards him. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He casts a stray hand in your direction and Carmen’s eyes instinctively follow, making eye contact for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

The heat of his stare was strong, something that you could best describe as a blend of anxiety and anger. You notice that his eyes trail up and down your form, not in a "checking you out way" and more of a "I cant believe you're here right now" way.

“Bug usually never responds to my messages! Honestly, how was I supposed to know she would now,” Richie continues, still trying to maintain distance away from Carmen.

Carmen seems overwhelmed, split between jumping at Richie for his fake naivete or running a million miles away from you. He curls his hands into fist, and for a second, you think he's going to throw a punch. Quickly though, Carmen steps away from Richie and casts one more look towards you.

You wait for him to say something to your face, but he doesn't.

“I’m leaving,” Carmen mumbles under his breath, taking in another deep breath before abruptly turning and throwing open the kitchen door. The swinging door flies out and hits the wall, a sudden crack that you are sure would leave a dent later.  Almost immediately, you hear the sound of distant bustling and pans clattering around. 

A voice yells out in confusion. “What the hell, Jeff?”

You bring a hand to your forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes and simply being around Carmen had given you more stress than you’ve had in the past week. Casting a glance up at Richie, you give him a final glare. The man simply shrugs his shoulders and gives a charismatic grin. “Well, that was pleasant wasn’t it, bug?” 

“Ayo, Richie, what the fuck is up with Jeff,” a voice questions as they walk in from the path of destruction that Carmen left in his behind. The owner of that voice is none other than Tina, and for some reason, seeing her alleviates at least some of the headache you feel pulsating across your skull. Tina casts a confused glance at Richie, who simply points over in your direction. Tina’s eyes follow and when she makes eye contact with you a familiar smile drapes across her lips. 

"Oh, well now I understand why Jeff's so pissed off."

"Yeah, and then the asshole has the nerve to act all coy, like he didn't blow my phone up with messages begging me to go down to the restaurant," you complained, throwing your head back to take another gulp of the wine in your cup.

In front of you, Sugar swirled her own glass of sparkling grape juice, shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Shortly after Tina had walked out, you had left the restaurant (not before flipping Richie the bird) and immediately went to text Sugar for a rant session. Being the absolute angel that she is, she agreed almost immediately, stating that she had some qualms she wanted to rave about as well. Two glasses of Merlot for you and some non-alcoholic beverages for Natalie later, you two were sitting on the two ends of Sugar's couch, the TV playing a rerun of Selling New York as background sound for your current conversation.

"Yeah, Richie is a jerk." You nod in appreciation for her understadning your annoyance.

"And don't even get me started on you-know-who's reaction? He barely even acknowledged my existence!" You throw your free hand in the air. "Speaking about me like I wasn't right there?"

You release an exasperated sigh. "The ego on that guy."

Natalie hums, taking a languid sip of her drink. "Well, that sounds like Carmy alright. A tiny little ball of asshole-ery at any given point of time." The blonde reaches a hand over and places it on your knee. "Sorry my brother is such a dick."

You give a small smile at Sugar, resting your own hand on top of hers. "No need, it's clear you took all the 'sane person' genes in the Berzatto bloodline." Your joke pulls a giggle out of Sugar, the slight truth of her statement not missing between the two of you.

"But enough about me," you place your glass down on her coffee table before continuing. "What's going on in your life Nat?"

You listen as she rants about the stress of preparing for a bringing baby into the home. She talks about how those Al-Anon meetings she regularly attends are going, and how her one coworker Bryson seems to have a vendetta against her.

After a moment, Natalie coughs slightly, eyes darting across the living room in thought before returning back to you. "And well, I hate to keep talking about Carmy but..."

The smile drops quickly off of your face as Sugar trails the last word. "But what, Suge?"

"Buttt, Carmen's trying to rebuild The Beef," Sugar peers down into the contents of her glass as she speaks, "he's rebranding it as The Bear, and I've been trying to help him and the crew get everything sorted before they start tearing the building down."

You press your lips together tight at the mention of the familiar name.

"Personally, Carm, I don't see much wrong with the restaurant now?"

"The place is held together by a roll of duct tape and a dream, bug, I don't think you have to look very hard to see some issues."

You glance up at him from your position on his chest, looking as he gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom. While his gaze was physically directed at the old glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling, you could tell his head was in a total different world.

"So you want to start a new restaurant?" You question, watching as Carmen shakes his head as soon as the words leave your lips.

"Nah, I just want to make it better, ya know? For Mikey, and Sugar, and Ma."

Sugar, noticing you are distracted, stops her sentence and gives a little frown, watching as your gaze drifts off somewhere distant.

Despite the years that have past, she knows that you still have feelings towards her brother. She was there for most of it, watching as you and Carmen went from daily hangouts to a weekly phone call, to a monthly check-in text, to, well, nothing.

She consoled you through most of the grieving phase of a post-breakup, like you had done for her a couple of times before. And after a few weeks of busting into tears anytime his name was mentioned, you began to heal, and focused those strong emotions towards improving yourself.

Natalie let a wistful sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts. Shaking the fog away, you give a remorseful smile at having basically cut Sugar off midway through her spiel. She gives you another small smirk before shaking her head, dismissing your silent apology with a wave of her hand. She draws another sip of her sparkling juice.

"But Carmen has been driving me up the wall with all the shit he wants me to help juggle. If I schedule one more appointment I might pull my hair out."

"Oh no, please don't do that, honey," Pete calls out from the kitchen, very obviously having been listening in on your gossip time from the kitchen table. Sugar gives off slight grimace at Pete's abrupt callout at her obvious exaggeration, shrugging her shoulders and giving a placating call back towards her husband.

Reaching back towards the table, you grab the wine glass from earlier. "Do you have anyone to help you? You know I have some connects who can manage the money and strategy end?" You offer, more than willing to alleviate some of the stress from your friend's shoulders.

"Yeah, can I have that guy who assisted you when you managed La Raison?" Sugar teases. "I have no idea how you managed to help that business go from near bankrupt to one of the best sellers down Michigan Avenue."

"Carter? Yeah, no. That dude was an asshat. He was more useful kissing up to the store owners than actually doing his job," you shake your head at the mention of one of your old employers. Since graduating, you had taken into strategic and financial management for businesses across Chicago. La Raison had been one of your main businesses for a while, the owners soon becoming close friends of yours.

You loved what you did, though business management sounded like a right pain to most, you found joy in being able to rub your braincells together and actually make a difference. Plus, the pay wasn't too bad either.

Sugar chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wish I could just have you as a little angel on my shoulder, giving me all the answers to all of these problems that keep popping up."

Though she was joking, you can see the way her brows furrow simply thinking of all of the things that she has to do. You could only imagine the stress she is under right now. Balancing opening a new restaurant with her ever-present family dilemmas, and a baby on the way?

Natalie was beyond used to extensive stress, so you know she won't verbally express all of her worries. But the thought of Sugar carrying all of that on her shoulders draws a slight frown on your face.

Before you know it, the thoughts are falling from your brain and past your lips.

"What if I helped you manage the place."

You honestly do not know why you offered to help manage this fuckery that is disguised as a restaurant.

Shortly after you had offered to help, it was as if Natalie had died, saw the light, and returned back to Earth. She squealed like a teenage girl and thanked you profusely. While she shaked you and explained all the things that needed to be done, you slowly began to realize the implications of your offer.

You, helping Natalie manage Carmen, your ex-boyfriend's, restaurant. A responsibility that would obviously take months.

And honestly, you were tempted to withdraw your offer despite the happy squeals of relief that Natalie was letting out. That was, until the tears of relief started pouring from her eyes.

Those pregnancy hormones really guilt tripped you.

Now, a week later, you're back at The Beef. Well, you suppose The Beef is gone officially now, the rusting sign pulled down from its former position hanging above the restaurant entrance.

"Why the hell did I sign up for this shit," you question out loud, watching as Manny and Angel pulling out a broken sign from inside the restaurant. Sighing, you reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette box, pulling one out before digging for your lighter in your back pocket.

"Mami, what are you doing here?" You turn around at the voice behind you, cigarette hanging loosely from your lips. Tina stands behind you, a smile stretched across her lips. "Seeing you two weeks in a row? Someone must be dying."

You smile, opening your arms for a hug that Tina reciprocates. "Oh you know, I'm here to save your asses from complete and utter failure." Tina gently pats your back as you pull apart, and it makes you regret not checking in on her and the rest of the crew more often.

"Missed you, T." You mutter, a small grin pulling up on one corner of your mouth.

"Missed you too, mami," Tina pats your arm before wrapping her hand around your elbow. "Now, I'm not trying to step on your toes but...you do know who your helping out right?"

You grimace at her implication, the reality hitting you once again. Behind those glass windows stands the man who took your heart and literally tossed it away like it was nothing. Took all of those years that you had spent together and wasted it away.

Broke up with you over fucking text.

And now, you're about to walk into his restaurant and help Sugar, and, consequently, help him fix this fuck up.

Talk about fate.

"Yeah, T," you start, letting her guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant, where you see Marcus and Fak carrying out some lockers. You wave towards the men, to which Fak responds with such enthusiasm that he drops some of the lockers on the ground, much to Marcus' chagrin.

You grimace before continuing. "Just helping my asshole ex because his sister is my bestie."

Sugar had texted you that Sydney, Carmen's former sous chef and business partner, had been more than happy to hire you as a strategic manager for the business. Although she didn't mention it, you knew that a certain dirty-blonde was not so excited at mention of you coming to help.

"He knows we need the help, no matter how fragile his tiny little ego is," Natalie had told you, a knowing smile on her face.

"Don't lose your head, boss." Tina teases, pushing you first through the doorway. As you finally enter the store, you take note of the pure chaos that is the restaurant.

Plywood and debris scattered across the flower, miscellaneous kitchen supplies and utilities lining the walls. Ebraheim and Sweeps were taking a sledgehammer to some random panels, while Richie was yelling something from the kitchen. As you take in the madness, Tina pats your elbow before heading back towards the kitchen.

"Welcome to The Bear!" Richie calls out as soon as he notices you. Spreading his arms out in what you assume is a hug, you only offer him a solid stare. Richie drops his arms and heads towards you despite your very clear disdain for him at the moment. "Glad you could join the team, bug."

"Richie, why the hell are you covered in black dust?"

"Inconsequential, sweetheart," you roll your eyes at his response before stepping over the debris in front of you.

"Where's Nat, Richard," you question walking behind the bar and towards the office in the back. Richie grumbles something under his breath before shouting out 'office.' Busting through the kitchen door, you note that the kitchen is just as messy as the front of the house. Stepping over black dust on the ground, you tread over to the office.

"Suge? You in there?" You call out, peering over the corner and into the office. The room is unoccupied, filled with nothing but discarded papers with miscellaneous phone numbers and sprawled writings.

You make note of what you know to be Nat's handwriting, eyes trailing over all of her notes for appointments and scheduling. Your eyes also rove over the chicken scratch that you also know to be Carmen's scribbles. Placing your bag down on the desk, you sit down in the rolling chair and decide to wait for Sugar to come in.

You grabbed a random pile of papers and attempted to digest some of the information being presented to you.

Bank statements, IRS requests, insurance, licenses, permits.

Judging by all the shit that needed to get cleared just for the restaurant to legally be open, your surprised that Mikey wasn't being physically chased down by the IRS and thrown into jail.

"Hey, Sugar, Syd and I are going to work on the chaos menu tonight so I'm going to leave the rest up to you, okay?"

Carmen slings around the corner, too focused on pulling his coat on his shoulders to notice who exactly was sitting in the office.

Instinctively, you freeze at his sudden appearance in the doorway, breath caught in your throat. At the lack of response, Carmen finally looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

His blue eyes widen, clearly not expecting you to be the person in the chair. You rack your brain over the next move to make, the silence continuing as he just stands in the doorway and practically gawks at your existence.

Deciding that staring indefinitely at each other was probably one of the worst things you can currently think of, you clear your throat to break the silence. That seems to break Carmen out of whatever state of shock he seemed to be in; you watch as he awkwardly wrings his hands, like he was at a lost of what to do next.

You're half-expecting him to make a repeat of the last time you saw each other and storm away from you. However, Carmen just stands there, eyes darting from you to random objects in the office then you again on repeat.

Both of you are waiting for the other to say something. To yell, chastise, and start an argument.

Biting the bullet, you start. "Hey, Carmen."

He seems to be taken aback that you even uttered his name, eyes meeting yours once again. You almost forgot how blue his eyes are-so bright that they're almost clear.

He nods in acknowledgement before saying your name to greet you in return.

Awkward silence fills the room once again. While you know that Carmen is hardly a conversationalist, this has to be the most painful quiet you've ever experienced.

Be amicable, you think to yourself. He's your boss/business partner now.

You're doing this for Sugar.

"Umm..," you trail off, eyes scanning the office around you in attempts to find something else to talk about. "I tried to find Nat, but she might have gone A.W.O.L"

Carmen nods his head a couple of times, a soft hmm leaving his lips. You can tell that he wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but sealed behind his lips.

"Yeah, ok-okay, yeah." He nods rapidly, crossing his arms across his chest, lowering his gaze down to your shoes.

"Yep."

God, someone shoot me now.

Carmen clears his throat. "I-I-uuhh, you know, Sugar really appreciates the help."

You nod, licking your lips out of habit. "Yeah, she's told me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

Just when you were about to figure out a way to turn invisible or sink into the floor, Sugar rounds the corner and lightly bumps into Carmen's back. She lets out a noise of surprise from her throat and Carmen jerks forward a little.

"Carmy, why the fuck are you standing in the fucking doorwa-" Sugar cuts herself off when she spots you over her brother's shoulder. She makes eye contact with you and you swear you see a little mischief in her eyes. She pushes past Carmen to step inside of the office, crossing her arms over chest to assess the room.

You, sitting in the office chair, papers still grasped tightly in your hands and your lips practically licked dry from your nerves.

Across, Carmen stands angled towards Sugar, almost trying to physically minimize the amount of eye contact you two share.

Natalie surmises that she just saved the both of you from a very awkward moment "Oh, shit. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No-no, uh, you're good, Sugar," Carmen sputters out, face flushing a bright red. He brings a hand over his mouth to physically stop the word vomit that was about to fall out of it. "Umm, was just gonna tell you that Sydney and I are leaving to work on the new menu."

Sugar's eyes dart over to you again, sitting stiffly in the office chair. She raises her eyebrows in question but you subtly shake your head.

Let's not talk about it right now.

She nods in acknowledgement before turning to fully face Carmen.

"Okay Carmy, you're good to go. Me and Bug here are just gonna get some paperwork sorted." Carmen looks in your direction at the use of the familiar nickname before he hmms again.

He takes a step back and waves his hand in goodbye. "All right, bye Sugar," he's fully outside of the doorway now, but he pauses before leaving you and Sugar's line of sight completely.

He stands there for a beat, running whatever thought across his mind a couple times. Finally, like he settled on an answer, Carmen gulps and raises his head to look at you.

He nods his head and whispers out your name and a goodbye, followed by a swift exit out of the kitchen.

You're practically stuck in the chair, the past five minutes having been a complete whirlwind. The kitchen door whips against the wall in a crack, the squeaking echoing from your place in the office. Your gaze is still focused on where your ex-boyfriend had stood not even a couple of seconds ago.

"Well," Sugar starts, a knowing smile across her face. "That wasn't as violent as I thought it was going to be."

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#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #the bear x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear season 2