Tags (so far): Smut, Porn with a little plot, Touch Starved!Carmy, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), Angst and Fluff, Long Distance Relationship, Established Relationship, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Fingering, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Dom/Sub Undertones, Both Carmy and Reader have a Huge Praise Kink
Chapter 1. “This is going a bit too fast…”
Chapter 2. "I wanna watch you make yourself feel good"
Chapter 3. "You're doing so well" + "Do that again"
Chapter 4. "Let me know how you like it. Like I did."
We Could Make A Good Thing Bad: A Daisy Jones & The Six AU
You liked to do a little research on the people you were photographing; the author of this particular profile didn't wax poetic about their looks. A whole paragraph on Sydney's charming tooth gap smile would have been excessive (even if it was a really charming smile) but you would have appreciated a warning about Carmen. A warning about his tattoos, how they accentuated the lines of muscle and veins underneath. Or his messy hair, the way it made him look like he had just woken up after a crazy one night stand. Even just a throwaway line about how piercing and blue his eyes were in person, especially when they were looking right into yours.
[transcript under the break]
November, 2025
THE BEAR: AN UPROAR
It’s early morning in Chicago, the skies a greyish hue of blue, condensation forming on the windows of the specialty coffee house where Carmen Berzatto is a regular. Sydney Adamu is drinking her first cup of coffee of the day, he is sipping his third. They complement each other: Sydney is enthusiastic and talkative while Carmen is more withdrawn, his restless leg syndrome betraying his brooding facade.
They are the creative forces behind The Bear, a critically acclaimed, Chicago bred band. They met less than three years ago, the band was formed two years ago, and they released their self-titled album six months ago. The whirlwind of success is unexpected but something they also depended on. “We blew every cent we had on studio sessions for the album. There was no plan B,” Carmen says.
It seems that this determination is something that the 31 year old vocalist carries in everything he does. When asked about their partnership and how Sydney became involved with the band he states: “It's her band as much as it is mine. I wouldn't have done the record on my own.” While Sydney does not disprove his comment, she does not seem quite as confident about it. After all, Carmen does have more years of experience as a performer.
As a teenager, Carmen had a rock band with his brother called The Berzattos. They were well loved in the neighborhood and were getting rave reviews from local newspapers. Just as they got the attention of independent record labels, Carmen left to pursue classical music in Europe and then New York. When asked about that time in his life, he seems jaded about the snobbery surrounding that world. “The division of music in classical and everything else feels really pointless to me. Good music is good music no matter the genre.”
Presumably, this dislike for constraints is what led him back home to form an alt rock band of all things. However, he seems to like the consistency and discipline that classical training provides. As for the genre that The Bear belongs to, he concludes that once they released the record “it's some other guy's job to determine what subgenre it belongs to.”
Whatever the genre, their music definitely has an audience. Their tour has sold out venues all over the US with more dates being added and a press tour to boot. The prospect of playing live as a band for the first time fills Sydney with excitement: “Doing arrangements for the music with the whole band is really fulfilling and getting to do it live and seeing how audiences react to it is a dream come true.” Carmen seems more cautious about it saying there are “lots of moving pieces and it feels like we're finally ready to hit the road.”
It’s no secret within the music industry that Carmen Berzatto is a perfectionist. “Try control freak,” Sydney offers dryly. “That's fair. But, I mean, if the song isn't perfect, we're not putting it out there,” Carmen confirms. This, at times cumbersome, need for perfection is what gave them their first viral hit, So F****ing Sorry - though not in the way one might expect.
“I can be an absolute nightmare in the studio. That's the truth,” admits Carmen with a wince. “I learned the sign for ‘I'm sorry’ but that wasn't really cutting it and we still had half the album left to record. So Syd wrote this amazing, truly showstopper, song and I have to sing it every night now that we're going on tour.” He’s atoning.
For rock fans of a certain age, this unusual arrangement might bring to memory Fleetwood Mac and the songs Go Your Own Way and Silver Springs, written by Lindsey Cunningham and Stevie Nicks respectively, weaponized in their disagreements after their romance ended and left them with grudges to settle. Sydney Adamu is quick to deny any similarities: “I'm not his girlfriend, his evil ex or his babysitter. We're songwriting partners and this only works if we can keep each other accountable and make each other better.” Carmen nods in agreement.
Along with TikTok darling So F****ing Sorry, there are true gems to be found in their album. Carmen’s favorite is Violet, he’s particularly fond of Marcus Brook’s bassline. Sydney loves System, with its gospel inspired harmonies that let Tina Marrero and Ebraheim’s background vocals shine. Neither mention their opener and closing tracks, arguably the best of the record, and the most personal for each of them. Timer is Carmen’s, with frantic guitar strumming, liberal use of profanity, sung in the rasp of a tenor that has smoked one too many cigarettes. The acoustic closing track, Sundae, is completely infused with Sydney’s influences: Tracy Chapman, Sam Cooke and Ella Fitzgerald.
Speaking on the themes of their music, both Carmen and Sydney have said in previous interviews that there are no love songs in it. Well, at least not in the traditional, romantic idea of 'love song'. “You're not going to play any of these as a first dance at a wedding,” Sydney teases. When pressed about the meaning of their songs, Carmen closes off but she says it revolves around grief “in a very broad and general sense. The nostalgia of lives unlived, that sort of thing.”
It is not surprising. Sydney opened up about the loss of her mother at a young age in Brené Brown’s podcast. The elephant in the room that no one addresses, is the tragic and untimely death of Michael Berzatto, Carmen’s brother, that may have indirectly propelled the creation of The Bear and their subsequent success. His influence can be found in the music but also in the look of the band.
“My brother gave me this,” Carmen points at his signature denim jacket. While his style is more utilitarian, fitted tees and jeans, the love for vintage fashion is something else he shares with Sydney. “It's getting hard to go thrifting without being recognized but we try. Carmy's more of a collector but I like wearing it,” she says, her look a mix of contemporary street style and 1970s handmade. Their aesthetic is completely their own, no stylists or publicist in sight. They point out their manager Richie Jerimovich as the reason they make their deadlines, though.
Their collab with British singer Luca is a subject that comes up by the end of the interview. “Carmy knew him from his time in the Netherlands and he's sort of taken Marcus under his wing,” Sydney explains, teasing that Marcus might play bass and co-write for Lucas’ next album too. Something else to look forward to for fans of The Bear while they take on their 2026 US tour.
My extremely specific assumption is that you prefer men that are a little bit whiny hehe
I mean... At least in the bedroom, yeah 😈
I don't mind a guy that's a little bossy elsewhere but there's gotta be a bit of balance in the universe, you know? (which is probably why I like Carmy so much and write him like I do)
I feel like I'm a very stereotypical bi woman in that I like sub men and dom women 🫣
Send in your very specific assumptions about me based on my fanfic
your life could end up changing (while you're dancing through)
Reader X Fiyero (Wicked)
Rating: Explicit (3k)
Tags: Smut with a little plot, Pre-canon, Fiyero is a whore (affectionate) and Reader is down to fuck, Everyone is 20+ because I say so and because Jonathan Bailey can pass for a 28 year old AT BEST, Fingering, Semi-public sex, Oral (F receiving), Thigh Riding, P in V Sex, Soft Pleasure Dom!Fiyero, Praise Kink
Fiyero Tigelaar had been expelled from school, yet again. The only difference is that it was from your school this time. And though you mourned the fact that you wouldn't see his figure parading down the hallways, you still had to look forward to tonight - a swankified goodbye, one last hurrah, a party to remember.
You fluffed your skirt one last time, checking your face in the mirror and nodding in approval. You walked down the stairs of the dormitory building, waving at a few of your classmates, all dolled up too, sequins and satin glittering in the moonlight. One of your heels got trapped in the cobblestone, making you trip, but a strong arm rounded your waist, steadying you.
"Careful," Fiyero's voice said smoothly.
"Oh! Thank you," you smiled up at him, dazed.
"Usually people trip after they go out drinking," he teased.
You laughed. "Sorry, my shoe got stuck."
"Shall I escort you to the club? Wouldn't want you to trip again," he flirted with ease, it was second nature to him.
"You don't need to," you could see his entourage gathering a few steps away. "I'll be careful."
He started walking, his hand still on the small of your waist, guiding you.
"Don't want to leave you all alone. Hardly chivalrous of me," he said.
"I'm gonna meet my friends there," you replied, leaning into his touch, his chest solid and warm against your side.
"I insist," he didn't need to, not really.
"Alright."
"And I must insist on a dance with you," he said, his eyes meeting yours, making you blush.
"I'm sure your dance card is quite full, Prince," you joked.
Every girl and boy at the school wanted a moment with him, even if it was fleeting and superficial, you included.
"Yes," he said. "I don't think anyone's claimed the last one yet."
He winked at you, taking your breath away. Surely he wasn't implying... Not on his last night here...
You were resigned to being one of the few students that hadn't spent the night at Fiyero's private suite - there were only so many nights in a semester after all and you had never been part of his inner circle.
"Are you serious?"
"Never. I'm never serious, you should know that," he gave you a mischievous smile. "But I would like to have to spend a while with you."
A while. It was as good an invitation to sleep over as you would get.
"I would like that too," you said with a wide smile.
"I'll look you up for that last dance," he promised. Without realizing, you two had walked all the way to the club, your friends watching wide eyed as he kissed your hand and ran to catch up with the rest inside the club.
~
The night passed very quickly. You danced and danced, stealing glances at Fiyero every now and then, drinking but not enough to get dizzy, just so you felt a little bubbly and brave.
The crowd started to thin out, the songs got progressively slower, and suddenly he was right behind you.
"Having fun?"
"Yes," you turned to your right, his face inches away, his hands possessive on your waist.
He started swaying you both side to side, his breath tickling your temple.
"You smell delicious. What is it?"
"Strawberries," you sighed, gasping when he used his grasp to twirl you around, guiding your arms around his neck.
"Mmm, my favorite," he kissed your temple, then your jaw, your neck... "Still want to come over tonight?"
You knew he would be fine if you said no. He probably had a line waiting outside the club to throw themselves at him - a part of you relished the fact.
"Yeah," you confirmed. "I really want to."
"Good."
And with that he cupped your face and brought you close for a tender kiss. You parted for a second, his blue eyes shining in the club lights, looking for yours. You smiled and he kissed you again, properly this time, his head tilting and his lips parting slightly. He was a damn good kisser; you melted in his arms, your fingers caressing the hair on his nape. Without you realizing, he had cornered you against the wall, you were surrounded by his warm body. His right hand went underneath your dress, caressing up from your calf all the way to your thigh, leaving goosebumps behind. You moaned into his mouth.
"Here?" you arched your eyebrows.
Yes, there were fewer students than at the beginning of the night and the corner you had ended up in was pretty dark but you could still be caught.
"Just want to touch you a little. Yeah?" he punctuated his question by cupping your pussy over your clothes. You squeaked in surprise and pleasure.
"Yes," you whispered, biting back a moan as he kissed your neck and caressed you under your skirt.
He knew what he was doing, playing you like an instrument, his nimble fingers moving your underwear to the side and getting you closer and closer to your release.
"Oh! I'm-" was all you could manage, panting lightly.
"I know. Let me feel it, come on, let me feel it," he pleaded, his voice strained. Holding on to his shoulders, you started grinding against his hand, jerky movements followed by breathy sounds as your pussy squeezed the hell out of his fingers. "Yes. That's it."
You ran your fingers over his shoulder blades, slowly coming back to your senses - the soft, blue wool of his coat grounding you.
He casually wiped his fingers with a monogrammed handkerchief.
"Ready to leave?"
You nodded and giggled once he took your hand and dragged you out of the club running.
~
Fiyero had a routine rehearsed, it seemed. Bringing his person of choice for the night to his suite, offering them a drink, sitting and chatting with an arm around them, then kissing them until they were horizontal on the couch. You had no problem following along, especially if it felt as good as this. He had you caged with his strong arms, kissing you thoroughly, grinding a little against you, his expensive cologne clouding your senses.
"Mmm," you hummed against his lips. "Is this what you do with everyone else?"
"Pretty much," he grinned, maneuvering your body where he wanted it, expertly tugging at ribbons and buttons to get you naked, like he knew your dress better than you did. "Like to give them a good time."
"A good time?" you tilted your head in amusement.
"Make them come at least three times before I do," he said simply.
Your eyes widened. "That's ambitious."
"Well, thank you! My teachers keep saying I lack ambition, you know."
You giggled. "And do you?"
His hands were carefully tugging at your pantyhose, running up the sensitive skin on the insides of your thighs and tugging down your underwear, leaving you in a satin slip all bunched up at the hips.
"Do I what?" he was looking at your pussy like it was a delicious dessert.
"Make them come that many times," you clarified, flushing down to your chest just with the way he was looking at you.
"Oh, yeah," he replied plainly, before burying his face between your legs, long strokes of his tongue making you lift your hips off the couch.
"Oh!"
He smiled devilishly as if saying "see, I told you". Then, he closed his eyes and went on sucking and licking, completely consumed with making you feel good, his arm keeping you pinned for him to devour. His free hand kneaded on your hips then traced a sinuous path down to your pussy. You whined with need.
You opened your legs wider, inviting him closer.
"Would you put your fingers inside me again? Please," you begged.
"Mhmm," he rumbled into you, making you shiver, his simple gesture of approval awakening something within you.
Without much warning, he put one finger inside you then a second, curling slowly as he kept on kissing your pussy. You moaned at the feeling, eyes closed and neck arched in pleasure.
"So good. So damn good," you babbled nonsensically.
Fiyero took your hands, prying them off the cushions you had been squeezing with force, and placed them on his hair, allowing you to direct his mouth. You caressed his scalp sensually, only shifting him slightly as you grew closer and closer.
"Fiyero, I- Ah!" you whined loud, his fingers three knuckles deep and his mouth making sinful noises against you. "Please, don't stop, please. It feels too good, you're so good..."
He groaned right as you came, his grip on you softening somewhat, letting you buck your hips desperately against his face. For a moment everything was bright and white as you pulsed around Fiyero's fingers. He kept groaning into the crease of your thigh. You soothed his scalp, massaging softly, and he practically purred.
"Are you alright?" you asked after a minute when he didn't look up.
"Yeah, sorry," he smiled boyishly. "Had a bit of a mishap. Nothing to worry about."
You frowned, looking in confusion as he got up, rolled down his suspenders and removed his trousers and shirt. He used the handkerchief from before to wipe his lower stomach, the trail of dark hair there sticky with cum, his pretty cock limp between his legs.
"Got a little excited there," he said smoothly. "I'll get us another drink while I can get it up again, yeah?"
You nodded, following his naked figure with your eyes as he left and came back. You took a sip of the drink he offered, a little citrusy and smoky, and leaned against Fiyero as he opened his arm for you.
"That happen often?" you asked finally, encouraged by the easy way he had dealt with it.
"It has happened a couple of times. Maybe they sound very sexy or say the right things while I'm down there," he shrugged. "I get lost in it," his finger traced figures on your shoulder. "It's a compliment, I assure you."
You smiled and settled in silence with him.
"What are the, uh, right things to say?" you asked after a while.
"You know. You said them," he said cryptically, downing his drink. You stared in silence for a moment until he surrendered. "What the hell, it's my last night here, might as well, right? Uh, I like being told that I'm good, that I'm doing a good job, that whatever I'm doing feels right... The things you said."
You nodded pensively. It made sense for him. And it also made sense for you.
"I, uh, I think I like that too," you blushed. "Maybe that's why I said those things... Want me to say them again?"
"When I'm inside you, yes," he smiled, warmer, softer. "Before that I would make a mess of things and I don't know if I have three rounds in me tonight," he laughed easily. "Have a little mercy."
You kissed his shoulder, the manly smell of him making you bold.
"Can I just-?" you hesitated.
"Yes?"
You rolled over, climbing on his lap, delighting in the look of shock he gave you.
He ran his hands up your sides, getting rid of the slip in one smooth movement. He assessed your naked body with wide eyes, his hands squeezing your hips and breasts as he went. You would have been more self conscious if you weren't staring yourself, eyes fixed on his chest and arms, toned and a little hairy.
A single lock of hair fell on his forehead. You touched his face.
"Pretty boy," you said without thinking too much about it. He was older than you and probably fitting more with the description of handsome and roguish. Still, he flushed and smiled wide.
"Yeah?" he tilted his head, mischievous.
"Yeah," you giggled.
"What's pretty about me?"
"Your eyes, your hair, your hands," you interlocked one of them with yours. "Your legs."
"My legs?" he chuckled incredulously.
"Like you don't know how well your thighs and ass look in those beige trousers you wear so much," you teased.
He pursed his lips, containing a smile.
All of a sudden, he lifted you so that you were straddling one of his thighs instead of both, the muscle there pressing invitingly against your pussy. He didn't say anything but he started kissing your breasts and sucking on your nipples, his tongue making you roll your eyes and hips.
"That's it, use me," he encouraged you, his eyes wide as he stared up at you. "Atta girl."
You moaned and moved faster.
"Please," you keened.
"What do you need?" his hands were pressing you against his leg, it still wasn't enough to tip you over the edge and you were getting desperate.
"Need you to say- Please," you begged.
He understood immediately, leaning to whisper.
"You were the prettiest girl tonight, you know that? So beautiful," he moved your hair to the side to see your face properly. "And you're doing so good, look so pretty taking everything you need from me," your pace accelerated. "Cannot wait to be inside you. You sound so perfect when you come..."
And you started moaning, harder now that he told you how much he liked it. You were shaking, soaking his skin, exhaling hard as you looked down. His cock was completely erect again and leaking.
"Want to wait a minute?" he asked, his brazenness dissipating as the night went on. When he looked up at you his expression could only be described as sweet.
"Just a moment," you agreed, leaning to kiss him, all tongue and soft caresses to his face.
"You really were very good just now," he said earnestly when you parted; your pussy squeezed on nothing.
"Thank you," you placed a quick kiss to his cheek and shifted on his lap, to straddle him properly, your arms around his shoulders like when you were dancing earlier that night. He lined up his cock to your entrance, his hands on your hips as you lowered yourself slowly. You winced a little.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly.
"You're big," you giggled, surprised at your own words. "Don't let it get to your head though," you joked but it didn't quite hit since it was followed by a low moan as you took him completely. "Oh! No wonder you're so full of yourself."
It was a backhanded compliment, you knew, but it tickled Fiyero. He smiled wide as he kissed you and caressed your breasts and waist, giving you time to adjust.
"You feel amazing too, if that helps," he teased.
"A little," you admitted, swaying your hips gently, experimentally, getting used to the stretch. You sighed, a slow rhythm building, his cock hitting the depths of you and making you roll your eyes. "Oh... You feel so good, you feel perfect."
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Mhmm," you nodded. "You're gonna make me come four times tonight."
"You did most of the work on the third one," he said with a charming smile, his forehead a little sweaty.
You shook your head. "You said all those nice things," your pussy clenched at the memory of it. "Made me feel so special. You're so good at this, know just what to do..."
Compliments kept pouring out from your lips, each one met with a sharp exhale or a groan. Each roll of your hips was punctuated by one thrust from him, hitting just right, making you see stars. His sounds became louder and more desperate, you tried to quiet them with kisses, talking him through as he neared his peak - the squeaking of his couch as you bounced on it was probably audible from outside.
"Can you do one more?" he asked, breathing labored.
"I don't know. I don't know," you replied, frantic and overstimulated.
"I think you can," he nodded encouragingly, his thumb caressing where your bodies joined. You arched your back with pleasure. "Be good for me. I wanna see you come while I'm inside you."
You nodded, tears in the corners of your eyes. It was too much, too good.
"My good girl..."
Something snapped inside of you and you unraveled in his arms, riding him desperately, squeezing the muscle of his arms, moaning harder than you ever had. He followed you immediately, growling, biting on your breast, spilling inside of you.
"That was perfect. You were perfect" he panted, hands running up and down your back, kissing around the love bite he had made.
You caressed his hair, a complete mess now, soothing as you recovered your breath.
~
Actually sleeping over wasn't a possibility - he had to be packed and ready to go by dawn. Still, he held you for a long while, kissing and caressing the parts of your body you were most insecure about: he could read you like an open book. Though maybe he could read everyone like that.
He helped you get cleaned up and dressed, clever fingers tying the ribbons of your dress. Then, he walked you back to your dormitory.
"Did you have a fun night?" he asked, pieces of the mask he wore daily falling back into place.
"I did. Thank you," you said earnestly, kissing him by the door.
"Thank you," he replied, his charming smile back on.
You were about to close the door when you stopped.
"Fiyero?"
"Hmm?"
"You are good," you said, enunciating slowly. "Yes, in a sexy way but also in a real way. It doesn't have to be just for this. If you let the right person in... Not me. Like, I'm not in love with you or anything-" you stumbled with your words. This was going terribly but you tried again. "What I mean is. You are a good fuck. You could be a good guy too. If you wanted."
He had arched his eyebrows high during your ramble, part of that vulnerability back in show.
"Thanks."
"Okay. Uh, good luck in..."
He chuckled and filled in the blank for you: "Shiz Academy, in Oz, I think."
"Right. Good luck," you said brightly and waved as you closed the door.
Back from watching Deliver Me From Nowhere. Currently kicking my feet and twirling my hair but also foaming at the mouth and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure... You know?
also how would we feel about me writing rockstar!carmy because i'm... thinking about it
You had recently moved to Chicago for your masters in fine art. Your new apartment wasn't huge but it had lots of natural light and a cozy kitchen. Apart from the creaking of pipes and some drafts of wind, you couldn't complain. Especially with the rent being so ridiculously low.
Apparently, the place was haunted.
You didn't believe in that sort of thing so when the landlord disclosed that information along with a warning that he would keep the three months' rent deposit regardless of any supernatural occurrences, you shrugged and signed the paperwork.
After a week of living there, you concluded there was nothing truly weird or supernatural happening in the apartment.
There was a smell of cigarette smoke, though not the stale kind that lingered in a smoker's home long after they were gone, it was fresh - like someone was smoking in the fire scape. It was either that or delicious cooking, fresh garlic and basil, beef and fresh bread - out of nowhere and at odd times of the day. There was also a blue eyed stray cat that sometimes sat on your windowsill, glancing vacantly at the inside of your apartment.
There were perfectly rational explanations for these things and, even if there weren't, it wasn't like you were particularly affected by them. You blamed most of it on your downstairs neighbors. Still, a friend suggested you saged the place just to be sure. You laughed a little and made the empty promise to follow through.
And so you settled into the space: filled the closets with your clothes and decorated the blank walls with art and bookshelves. You made yourself at home.
Once all your boxes were unpacked, you realized there was one that didn't belong to you - probably from the previous tenant. You tucked it inside the closet and made a mental note to ask the landlord next time you saw him.
~
You were painting with your headphones on when you first heard it. A voice. A man's voice.
"Hey."
You paused the music and heard it again.
"Hey!"
You turned around but there was no one there.
You frowned and kept going, without the headphones this time, just in case. But you didn't hear anything else the rest of the night.
~
You didn't hear his voice again but you dreamt of him.
You were in the middle of a stress induced nightmare, running as you tried to catch papers floating mid air: your whole work of the past few weeks flying away from your reach when a gust of wind took away your portfolio.
"No, no, no! Please!" you cried, tears clouding your vision. When you could see again, there was a guy in front of you - blond, lean, and blue-eyed.
"Don't worry, it's just a dream," he said softly and you woke up.
~
You saw him again a couple of nights later.
In your dream, the stray cat had jumped inside your apartment and sat on your kitchen table. It was following something with its gaze: the same blond guy, his back to you as he cooked on the stove.
"What are you doing in my apartment?" you asked.
He turned and with a shake of his head he echoed: "What are you doing in my apartment?"
His forearms were peppered with black ink, you noticed as he stirred something in a pot. "I'm making spaghetti bolognese, want some?" he offered. And you remembered the smell of basil and garlic in your apartment...
He opened the oven and there were a dozen pairs of jeans in there, which is when you realized this was a dream.
"What's your name?"
"You always ask that," he said flatly. "And you always forget."
He looked into your eyes and you stared right back, trying to commit his face to memory.
"Always?" you asked.
"Mhmm."
"I'll try not to forget this time," you promised.
He nodded absently and turned around to plate some spaghetti for you, grating a generous helping of parmesan cheese on top.
"Enjoy," he said. And you woke up.
~
It was weeks of that. Of seeing that same guy in your dream over and over. Sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn't. He was usually napping on the couch or cooking in the kitchen - though one time your dream turned into a nightmare as your department lit on fire with him in it.
He always looked tired, dark circles around his eyes, but more than any outward signal, he seemed defeated, exhausted from trying.
You tried to draw his face: messy blond hair, wide blue eyes, Roman nose, pronounced cupid's bow, soft round chin - a portrait by Delacroix with tattooed arms and a Chicago accent.
You had read somewhere that the human mind couldn't come up with faces for dreams, it merely mixed and matched people you had already met. So you had probably met him. If only you could place his face...
~
"Who the fuck are you?" you asked one night, your subconscious mind obviously fed up with the mystery.
He looked amused by your outburst. "Hey, relax. I tell you every night and you forget. Not my fault, okay?"
"Sorry. I just- Where do I know you from? Why do I keep seeing you?" you groaned frustrated.
"I'm here," he replied cryptically, gesturing at the apartment.
"That helps a lot, thank you," you snarked.
He chuckled, looking away from you.
You realized he was going through the cardboard box that didn't belong to you, the one you had put away when you first moved. The guy took out a lighter from the inside and started fiddling with it.
"Do you smoke?" you asked.
"Yeah."
"A lot?"
"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Should probably quit."
And you woke up.
~
You had forgotten about the box, never opening it after your landlord dramatically crossed himself and begged you to get rid of it. Now, as soon as you woke up, you went to check its contents.
You found a dozen books on international cuisine, an old jacket, a cellphone, and a few journals. You read the tape on the spines written in frantic penmanship: NOMA, NYC, FRENCH LAUNDRY... There was also a lighter - identical to the one you had seen in your dream.
"What the fuck?" you mumbled.
You flipped through the pages of the journals, finding recipes and drawings, a little messy but carefree and beautiful. There was one notebook that was only half full, notes on chicken picatta and unpaid bills tucked between the pages. There was also the folded up CV of one Sydney Adamu.
After a quick Google search, and according to her Instagram, you learned that Chef Sydney Adamu worked at a restaurant called Kasama, right here in Chicago. Would it be too much to look for her just to ask her about this dream you kept having? See if she could provide some clarity? Or would she think you had lost your mind?
You went to your classes thinking about it, drawing the guy's face again instead of taking notes, growing more determined to use the weekend to check in on her.
~
"Who's Sydney?" you asked the guy that night when you fell asleep.
He froze mid-motion, the knife he was using to dice onions fell on the cutting board.
"Syd..." his eyes shone with recognition and he turned to you with a smile, speaking slowly. "She- she was my coworker. We worked..."
"As chefs, I know," you finished. "Can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."
He grinned. "How is she?"
"Dunno," you shrugged.
"If you see her..." he went to retrieve some things: the books and journals from the box. "If you see her, can you give her these?"
"I don't know her," you explained.
"Please," he insisted. He had never looked so distraught.
"I'll try," you offered.
"And tell her I'm sorry," he said, his voice fading away.
~
You stood outside of Kasama, not really knowing what you were going to say to Sydney. You were looking for answers but didn't really know the right questions to ask...
"Hey, are you going in or-?"
You turned. A beautiful black girl with long braids was holding the door open for you.
"Sydney?"
"Uh, yeah," she let go of the door and got a little closer. "Do I know you?"
"No- I'm-" you hesitated. "I got this new apartment and, uh, there was this box-" you took out a tote bag with the books and journals and handed it to her. "These are for you."
Sydney was looking at the contents of the bag with a vacant expression, her fingers lingering on the labels of the journals - that same messy penmanship that caught your eye.
"Sorry, where did you find these again?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"I, uh, they were in a box in my apartment. It had your name. My landlord hasn't helped me at all to find the previous tenant or I would have- Are you okay?"
She was crying, her hands trembling.
"Yeah. I'm great. Uh. Sorry. This clearly has nothing to do with you and you were just trying to do a nice thing but uh-" she blurted out and wiped her eyes. "Caught me by surprise that's all."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault," she sniffled. "It's not your fault that the restaurant I was working at caught on fire."
"What?" you raised your voice and your eyebrows.
"I mean, everything would have been fine if the fire suppressant thing was working but- I wasn't even there that day," she rubbed her eyes in dismay. "And Carmy's lungs were so fucked up from smoking to begin with so..."
"Carmy?"
"Berzatto. Yeah. Uh. This was all his. The restaurant too. And probably the apartment you live in now, I'm guessing, if you found all of this there," Syd struggled to say it, clearly still hurting.
"Do you mind-? Can I ask what happened to him?" you mumbled, terrified of the answer.
"He died. Not in the fire itself, like, everyone got out safe but- He inhaled so much smoke... He had heart failure a couple hours later," she rubbed her forehead trying to soothe herself. "I feel like maybe seeing The Beef burn down broke his heart, you know?"
"I'm so sorry," you said because there was nothing else you could say.
"Yeah," she nodded absently. "I- I sort of quit and called him a piece of shit right before that."
"I mean, we all say things we don't mean when we're angry," you tried to comfort her.
"Oh, no. I meant it. He was an asshole. I still didn't want him to die," she said honestly. "He was an incredible chef. Just amazing. And I- I didn't want things to end like that."
You nodded sheepishly, trying to take in everything she had said while she went through the books and journals you had brought.
"Asshole," Sydney gasped and then chuckled.
"What is it?"
She showed you a page near the middle of the half-finished journal. It read:
Braised short rib + risotto
Fucking fire! Almost perfect. Needs acid.
"He's giving me notes from the grave," she said with a light tone and a teary smile.
You remembered the fond look in the guy's eyes from your dream last night. He had lit up at the mention of Syd.
"I don't know a lot about cooking but I think-" you hesitated, looking for the right words. "I think if he wanted you to have these, he must have believed in you a lot. Liked you a lot too."
"Yeah," she smiled.
Tell her I'm sorry, you remembered him saying.
"He, uh, probably didn't want things to end the way they did either, you know? I'm just thinking he'd probably apologize if he had the chance."
Sydney nodded.
"Thanks for bringing them. Nat must have left that box behind when she packed all his stuff."
"Nat?"
"His sister."
~
That night, you found Carmy napping on the couch. He looked peaceful and tired. When he heard your steps getting closer, he stirred.
"Hey," he said groggily.
"I found Sydney."
"I know," he smiled. "I was there. Just listening, nothing creepy," he added like he wasn't a literal ghost. "Thank you for- Well, everything you said. Thanks."
"You were there?"
"Yeah. Really tired me out to go out that far though," he yawned. "Takes a toll."
"What do you mean?" you frowned.
"Leaving home, moving around stuff, showing up in dreams, talking so that the living can hear..." he mumbled, half asleep. "Exhausting."
The dream was fading in from the borders, shrinking.
"It's okay, have some rest, Carmy," you whispered.
"You remembered my name," he smiled and everything turned black.
~
It was a few nights of not seeing him. A few days to go over the remaining contents of the box, to investigate and try to fill in the blanks. A few days to come to terms with the fact that you were living with a ghost, dreaming about him, and basically helping him deal with his unfinished business.
You couldn't find a Natalie Berzatto on Instagram but she had an impressive profile on LinkedIn that let you know she was very much alive and still living in the Chicago area.
You also looked for Carmy Berzatto, his photos showing you the same guy from your dreams: dirty blond hair, blue eyes, tattooed arms and hands. You found articles on him, a culinary prodigy, and, more recently, obituaries - his untimely death a few months ago.
~
"Thought I wouldn't see you again," you said.
Carmy was in the kitchen, kneading dough for freshly made pasta. He looked up with an amused look.
"I still have a couple of favors to ask you, if that's okay," he mumbled.
"Is it about Nat?" you asked.
"Yeah. And Richie."
"Who's Richie?"
"My cousin. Well, kind of a friend of the family. It's complicated," he scoffed.
"Everything is with you," you teased.
"Yeah," he chuckled.
You liked when he smiled - he lit up and looked beautiful.
"No unfinished business with a girlfriend or an ex?" you asked carefully.
"Not really. Didn't have time for that," he shrugged.
"That's kind of-"
"Pathetic?" he interrupted.
"I was gonna say sad," tragic, even. "Not pathetic," you offered gently.
He hummed, not agreeing with you but not fighting either.
"So what's the thing with Richie?"
~
You were at the front door of his apartment. Carmy's old phone had the address marked under Cousin. You knocked.
"Well, that was quick..." you heard a loud voice from the inside, and a tall, blue eyed man opened the door. "You're not my pizza guy."
"No," you said. "Uh, are you Richie Jerimovich?"
"Yeah. What can I do for you, sweetheart?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"I, uh, I moved into Carmy's old apartment. Well, I didn't know it was his but there were some letters and bills and-"
"You should see that shit with Sugar, I mean, Nat," he made a move to walk away and close the door, clearly upset, but you stopped him.
"This is important," you insisted, moving closer to stop the door with your foot. You could see a little of his apartment from the outside - everything was littered with takeout boxes and empty beer bottles, your stomach sank.
"I don't think-"
"It's about Mikey," you said and that caught his attention.
"What about him?"
"Well, uh, there's this..." you handed him an open envelope, something that was way at the bottom of the box. "It's the restaurant's insurance papers. Carmy was the first beneficiary but in his absence Mikey named-"
"Eva?" Richie arched his eyebrows. "She's six."
"I think the idea is to, uh, pay for her college or something? I don't know about insurance stuff, I'm an art student," you rambled as he read the paperwork.
"Holy shit," Richie cursed. Then, he smiled, a big smile that lit everything up and he teared up a little. "And Carmen knew? And agreed?"
"I think so," you said. "He would have changed it otherwise, right?"
"Holy shit," he repeated. "Those fuckers..."
"Mmm?"
"Sorry. You probably think I'm insane. But, uh, my best friend died, and his baby brother died, and I've been feeling so fucking-" he sniffled. "Feels nice to know they cared, that's all."
You offered him a gentle smile. "I think they cared for you very much. More than you knew."
Richie nodded.
He found a second piece of paper inside the envelope. It was wrinkly but still legible:
CHEF TERRY. CALL.
Then, a phone number.
"You know who this is?" he asked.
"No idea," you lied. "Maybe you should try it."
"Might as well, right?" he took out his phone and dialed. You tugged anxiously on your sleeves. Carmy told you Richie would know just what to say but you were still nervous. "Is this Chef Terry? Hi. Right, uh, you don't know me but I'm Carmen's cousin... Yeah, Carmy Berzatto... Yeah, thank you... We're hanging in there, you know? It's tough, it's tough... I used to work there but- No, I haven't found anything yet, you know how it is right now... Yeah, exactly," he chuckled. "You're kidding... No, I mean I don't need charity or- No, of course... Sure, I can do a week and see if I fit in there. The Beef wasn't fine dining so I don't know if your fancy staff will like me..." he chuckled again, a little self-deprecating this time. "No, for sure... This Monday? Definitely... Yes, Chef! Thank you so much, you won't regret it," and he hung up.
You watched him punch the air and holler loud. Then, he gave you a big hug. You squealed and laughed when he lifted you off the ground a couple of inches in his excitement.
"I have a job!" he screamed and put you down. "I have a fucking job and my baby girl is going to college!"
"Congratulations," you said, grinning.
"This is major. Fuck. Thank you," he said earnestly.
"I didn't do anything."
"Are you kidding? You brought this here," he flicked the envelope. "Life-changing."
~
"Richie looked happy," you said in your dream that night.
"He did."
Carmy was exhausted, dragging his feet to the living room. You sat on the couch and offered your lap as a pillow. You ran your fingers through his hair until he closed his eyes and hummed contentedly.
"You think he'll fit in at the restaurant?" you asked after a while.
"Not at the beginning," he mumbled. "He'll hate it but he will stay because he's stubborn and he has to. And then it will click..." Carmy sighed, relaxed. "At least I hope it does."
"You said he's good with people?"
"Yeah. In a way I could never hope to be, you know? Mikey was that way too. Everyone liked them," he added softly. "He'll be fine."
The dream was becoming blurry, exhaustion getting to him.
"See you in a few days?" you asked. "You need to rest."
"Wouldn't miss it," he promised groggily. "Fuck, wish I could hug you like he did..."
~
You got home after a terrible, terrible date. Carmy hadn't showed up in your dreams for a week now and you missed him. The last few words he said were echoing in a loop in your mind: Fuck, wish I could hug you like he did...
So you had let the loneliness get the better of you and agreed to go out with your neighbor.
You walked inside the apartment angry, eager to change into your pajamas and forget the whole night. As you undressed, you caught a glimpse of your reflection on the mirror - your really nice lingerie wasted on that trash can of a man.
The room got colder and suddenly there were goosebumps on your skin.
"You look nice," a voice whispered.
"Fuck!" you screamed, terrified, and covered yourself with your arms. You looked around and found your apartment empty, well, at least from any visible presence. "Carmy? What the fuck?!"
"Sorry, I didn't mean..." he hesitated. "I sometimes forget you can't see me in the daytime."
"So you've been looking at me changing all this time?" you crossed your arms and stood defensively.
"No! I promise. I was- I was worried about your date and-" his voice got quieter. "Then I couldn't stop looking. Sorry."
You rushed to the other side of the room and threw an oversized sweatshirt on. It was exciting to think about Carmy enjoying the sight of you in lingerie. However, he was dead, and that added all sorts of fucked up implications that you didn't want to deal with right now.
"How did you know about my date?" you asked.
"I live here," he said flatly. "I could still hear some stuff while I was resting. How was it?"
"The worst," you replied honestly. "He wanted to mansplain the Sistine Chapel to me. He also said I should have the salad and not the pasta, too many calories."
"I'm sorry."
You shrugged. "Serves me right."
"What do you mean?" Carmy asked.
"I only went out with him because I felt lonely. Because I missed you," you confessed, three cups of wine making you feel less shy about it.
"I wish I met you before," he said in response, something sorrowful in his tone.
"Yeah?"
"Mhmm," he got closer, you could feel the air get colder around you. "Wish I could hold you right now. Touch you."
You felt warmth inside your belly and between your legs. Would it be so terrible to go along with this?
"What would you do?" you asked breathily.
"Kiss your neck," you ran your knuckles over it, slowly. "And your lips," you ghosted your fingers over them.
"Then?"
"I would take that sweatshirt off."
You removed it slowly and stood in the middle of the room, in your underwear again, heart racing with anticipation.
"Would you tease me?" you prompted. "Kiss around my underwear without taking it off? Make me lose my mind and beg you to get me naked?"
"Jesus Christ," he groaned. "Yes, anything you want."
You traced the contours of your bra and panties, tugging at the elastic, slowly moving towards your bed to lie more comfortably.
"I would touch you over your panties too," he played along and you smiled. You cupped your pussy, working yourself up, tracing delicate lines on your folds, teasing your clit over the lacy fabric. You whined needily and you heard Carmy curse again.
"Can I take them off?" you pleaded, knowing he wanted you naked almost as much as you did.
"Fuck. Yes. Take everything off," he said hoarsely. You threw your panties and bra somewhere across the room. "Open your legs."
You planted your legs on the mattress and swayed your hips, teasing.
"Touch me, please," you begged.
"Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice felt as if he were lying on the bed next to you. "I'm right here. Touching you. My fingers are touching your cunt."
You were wet, so wet your fingers squelched as they moved up and down your pussy. You moaned low, the feeling of your own hands delicious when you pictured Carmy doing it, his tattooed fingers coated in your arousal, tracing tight circles on your clit.
"Fuck," you sighed needily.
"Like that. Don't stop until you come," he drawled.
And you obeyed and moved frantically as you felt closer to your release.
"Carmy," it was a small, pitiful sound.
"Right here, I'm right here," he reassured you. "You're doing so well. Don't stop."
You were shaking, so close you couldn't breathe properly.
"Ah!"
You trembled and thrusted against the air, your pussy fluttering around nothing.
"See you in a bit," he promised.
~
The moment you fell asleep, you were in his arms, cuddling on the bed, in that version of your apartment that was still his, always late afternoon and golden. He caressed you, knuckles running up and down your naked back.
"What the fuck did we just do?" you covered your face in embarrassment.
"I guess it's not that different from phone sex," Carmy replied. He was glowing and relaxed - like he had just come too.
"You're a ghost! You're dead!"
"And you're alive," he stated, kissing the few inches of skin that were visible behind your hands. Finally, you relented and uncovered your face, meeting his besotted glance. He kissed you sweetly, head tilted and tongue gentle against yours.
"Never felt this way. Never let myself get this close to anyone," he confessed in a whisper.
"You should have," you said gently, fixing his hair, a couple of curls falling on his forehead. "I know it's too late now, but you should have. You're pretty great, could have made some girl really happy."
"I'm not so sure. I was a mess. Angry all the fucking time. And just busy. I had to be always doing something or I felt like I was dying-" he chuckled at his choice of words.
"You were grieving. Richie said something about Mikey," you whispered, your fingers carding the hair on Carmy's chest, soothing.
"Yeah. He, uh, he shot himself a few months before I died.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. That's why I was so worried about Richie. He blamed himself for that and- I don't know. My thing was an accident but guilt can-"
"I know," you nodded. "I feel a bit guilty about what happened to you and I didn't even know you. It's dumb."
"Yeah."
He leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours.
"I don't know what the fuck we're doing but I've- Never felt anything like this either," you whispered.
"Stay a little longer?" he asked and you nodded, feeling his body warm against yours, his arms holding your waist tight.
~
You knew there was still his unfinished business with Nat but you didn't bring it up and neither did Carmy. It felt like an unspoken, undeniable truth that he would move on once that was resolved. It was probably irresponsible but you let the days slip by in this new version of normal. It was stolen time.
Your default excuse was that you had fallen behind with your coursework, too absorbed investigating Carmy's life to actually focus. And he was understanding, too understanding really. He was stalling too.
"Your school is nice," he said one night. He was cooking for you, spaghetti bolognese again, hoping the dream would last long enough for you to actually taste it.
"You came along today?" you lit up. "You should have said something."
"Just wanted to see," Carmy shrugged.
"I saw your drawings. Did you ever think about studying art?"
You had taken photos of your favorite pages before you parted with everything. You looked at them sometimes, it felt like being closer to Carmy.
"Maybe?" he scratched the side of his face. "Especially back at NOMA. Everything felt so vibrant and beautiful, I could have chased that. But I was terrible at school as a kid so..."
He let it float. Not like either of you could do anything about it now.
"Still. It sounds like the kitchen was too stressful at times," you said.
"Yeah," Carmy chuckled. "But I loved it. I really did."
It was nights like that, mellow and domestic, giving the two of you a taste of what it would be like to have someone waiting at home, loving to see you at the end of the day. It was sweet, like stolen candy.
And then there were those nights - feverish, desperate, when Carmy remembered this was temporary and that he would have to say goodbye sooner rather than later.
"Missed you," you heard Carmy's voice close to your ear the moment you got to the apartment. "Take your clothes off."
"Let me put the groceries in the fridge first, Jesus!"
He chuckled. "Two minutes."
And something in his tone made you shiver with need. You rushed to the bedroom discarding your clothes as you went. You lay down, waiting for instruction.
"Touch yourself," he said lowly, and you obeyed immediately, parting your legs to tease your pussy. "Close your eyes," and you did.
Sometimes you swore you could feel him, his hands kneading the skin of your waist, caressing your breasts, pushing your thighs apart.
"Can I try something?" he asked, and you could almost feel his exhale on your cheek, feel his thumb on the corner of your lip.
"Yes," you sighed.
Suddenly, you felt something nudging at your pussy. You opened your eyes but there was nothing there. But you were being deliciously filled, your pussy stretching around something, someone...
"Carmy?" you asked in a breathy voice. You couldn't see him but, fuck, you could definitely feel him - his cock entered you slowly and you couldn't silence a long moan. "Fuck."
Your pussy clenched around him. It wasn't the warm, pulsing feeling of an actual cock but it was good. Your hand kept drawing circles on your clit, echoing the slow rhythm of him pushing inside and out.
"Feel that?" you heard Carmy's voice like he was hovering on top of you, his arms holding him up while he fucked you.
"Yes. I can feel you," you whined needily. "I can't see you."
"Isn't this enough?" he said gruffly on the side of your face. "Don't you feel good?"
"Yeah," you managed.
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. It was forceful and it made you gasp.
"H-how the f-fuck-?" you stuttered, overcome with pleasure.
"Ghosts can move shit, right?" he panted.
"Yeah... Ah!" you squirmed, feeling your orgasm approaching. "But how-?"
"I don't fucking know," he groaned. "Just take it," you felt the pressure of his lips on your neck.
"Fuck. Carmy..." you whined, so close, so fucking close...
You shook with pleasure, vaguely aware of the wetness pooling between your legs as you faded away.
You woke up to a mess on your bed. The sheets were wet with your arousal and you were sore and satisfied in a way that never happened by only touching yourself.
"Holy shit," you mumbled.
~
No matter how great the sex was, you couldn't put it off any longer. Guilt was gnawing at your insides. You went through the last remaining things in the cardboard box: a denim jacket and his phone.
You skimmed his texts and emails but there was nothing you could find that would make him stick around and worry for Nat. He hadn't replied to some texts but that seemed to be the way he operated, always rushing. You realized he was right - he was a bit of an asshole and would have been a terrible boyfriend. But death had a way to set priorities straight, you supposed.
~
"So... What's the thing with Nat?" you asked.
Carmy turned, a resigned look on his face, like he knew you would break up with him. And you were, in a way.
"Come sit," you tugged on his hand, waiting until he settled on the couch so you could straddle his lap. You leaned your forehead on his.
"I know I have to leave," he rasped. "I was waiting for you to say something because all of this is me taking time and- None of it is mine. You should be living."
"I am," you contradicted him. "I know this is strange and messed up but you've made me feel alive. And whatever it is you think you took or stole- I gave you all of it. It's yours," you said, your fingers intertwined with his. "Are you scared?"
"A little," he admitted. "I think it would be, uh, insane if I wasn't."
You giggled. "Yeah."
He tilted his head just enough so he could kiss you, deep, lovingly. He wiped the tears off your face with his thumbs.
"So. The thing with Nat-" he started.
~
It was a pretty house in the suburbs, perfect and beautiful. When you rang the doorbell, a woman opened up, her shade of blonde was the same as Carmy's.
"Nat?"
"Yeah?"
"Hi! Uh, I'm a-" and you hesitated. 'A friend of Carmy's' wasn't a difficult thing to say. You had rehearsed it on the way there. But it felt wrong. So you went off-script and said: "Well, I was dating Carmy."
"Oh, sweetie," she launched forward and gave you a tight hug.
And you found yourself sitting in Nat's living room, waiting for her to bring you tea.
"So how did you two meet?" she asked gently, handing you a mug.
"We lived in the same building."
"And how long-?"
"Not very long," you took a sip. Chamomile, warm and soothing. "But I liked him a lot. I- I think I loved him."
Nat smiled, it was teary but you could tell she was genuinely happy.
"I'm glad he found someone. Even if it was-" she exhaled sharply. "How are you holding up?"
"I guess I'm still-" you hesitated.
"In denial?"
"Yeah," you chuckled and she joined in.
"Yeah. I'm still hoping he'll return my missed calls, that fucking asshole," she sniffled. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I- I dream about the kitchen of his apartment. And him cooking for me," you admitted.
"Like he ever cooked in that thing," Nat said sarcastically. "With those stupid jeans inside the oven."
"Yeah, what was up with those?"
"Ugh," she sighed. "You know how he was. His vintage denim couldn't mix with the rest of his clothes. Fucking psychotic behavior."
You smiled fondly. "He talked about you a lot. And, uh, he left this at my place," you handed her the jacket and saw her eyes well up.
"Motherfucker," she managed to say and buried her face in it, inhaling deep, hugging it tight. "Thank you."
You nodded sheepishly and waited. She heard something crumple inside the pocket and took it out. It was a postcard from New York, one Carmy never sent. You had read it before coming here:
Sug,
I'm okay. Don't worry about me, yeah?
I'm settling in okay and there's everything I need over here.
Say hi to Pete for me,
C.
She started sobbing openly now and you rushed to hug her.
"It's okay. He's okay," you whispered, holding her tight, crying with her. "You don't need to worry about him."
"What kind of big sister does that make me? I should worry about him! I should have- God!"
"He knew you loved him, knew you worried about him," you reassured her. "He loved you too, worried about you too."
"Yeah?"
She let go, her eyes wet and her mascara ruined.
"Yeah," you sniffled. "He was really bad at returning messages and phone calls but he did."
"He was really fucking terrible at that. How did you guys even communicate? Jesus."
"I would just go to his apartment," you shrugged.
"That's convenient," she exhaled, deep, like she was letting go of a big weight.
"Thank you for bringing this," she wiped her nose. "It feels like he's taking care of me. Of us. You know Richie has a big boy job now?"
"No," you lied.
"An old mentor of Carmy's gave him a job and he's wearing suits and cleaning his apartment now. It's crazy."
"I'm so glad," you said honestly. "Is everyone okay? You? Syd?"
"Syd's good. Last time I saw her she looked happier, I think. I'm-" she gestured at her puffy face. "I'm crying a lot but they say that's good. Still going to Al-Family, I'm being good about that. Mom's sober, and we're keeping an eye on her - from a distance, you know?"
"Yeah," you held her hand and she rubbed your knuckles. "If you ever need anything..."
"Right back at you."
~
You didn't want to fall asleep that night. You dreaded the thought of saying goodbye to Carmy but thinking that he might have already moved on and you would never see him again was horrifying.
You held tight to your comforter and imagined it was him putting his arms around you.
You came to and he was hugging you in the middle of the kitchen, golden and warm as always. His strong arms held you as you cried into the fabric of his shirt.
"Shhh. It's okay," he mumbled, kissing your hair.
"It's not okay, you're leaving," you sobbed. And he let you cry and cry, rubbing your back until you calmed down.
"You know I can't thank you enough for all that you've done, right?"
"You're welcome," you said, your voice strangled.
His body was warm, he was breathing, his heart was beating, the way it was supposed to be - nothing made sense. Why give you a glimpse of this only to take it away?
"I think... Maybe you were my unfinished business too," he mumbled.
"What do you mean?"
"I told you that I never let myself get so close to anyone. I never loved anyone, not like this," he said honestly.
"Neither did I."
"Exactly."
"I'm not following, Carm."
"What if the point is to show you you can? That you have this ridiculously big heart, that it can fit so much..." he held your face in his hands. "I didn't think I could- you know what I mean?"
"I think so..." you sniffled. "I'm gonna miss you."
"Baby..." he said hoarsely, and it was like all his restraint fell with that word. He started kissing the side of your face messily, shoving his tongue inside your mouth, moaning in pleasure when you touched his cock. "Fuck..."
He guided you to the bed and kissed your neck, then your breasts, sucking each nipple carefully, and moving down, down, down, until he was kneeling between your legs.
"Carmy, you don't need to..."
"You've done so much for me, let me do this for you," he rasped.
He kissed your pussy, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. You whined, tugging on his hair. He licked up your folds, tasting your arousal as he curled his fingers inside you.
"Fuck..."
"I'm still here," he reassured you, pausing just a second as he feasted on your pussy. Licking, kissing, sucking..
"Oh! I'm- Carmy. Carmy!"
You pulsed around his fingers, moaning loud, thighs squeezing his face. Time stopped for a moment while you saw stars and caught your breath.
He climbed up your body and settled in your embrace, gasping when he entered you, his body fitting perfectly between your arms and legs. You crossed your ankles behind his hips, like that would stop him from leaving.
He got up on his elbows and looked at you, really looked at you, his blue eyes tracing every detail of your face.
"Promise me something?" he said after a while.
"Anything," you nodded, carding your fingers through his hair.
"Live. I want you to tell me all about it when I see you again. In a long, long time," he gave you a sad smile.
"You really believe that?"
"I think so. Been thinking about Mikey a lot lately. Like maybe I'll see him soon. I don't know..."
You caressed his face gently and he kissed your palm.
"I love you," you said.
"I love you. Take care, okay?" he whispered.
"I will."
Then he leaned over, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he thrust inside you, slow, the mattress undulating beneath you two. You caressed the back of his neck, lovingly. It felt like the closest you'd ever been but also like he was slipping through your fingers...
You woke up to an empty bed, the pillowcase wet with your tears. You didn't feel like getting up, too exhausted, too drained to begin the day but you could see the fucking cardboard box from your bedroom and you got up to throw it away. It felt like a sore reminder of what you lost.
Except there was something at the bottom. You could swear the box was completely empty the day before but there it was: a brand new sketchbook, nice and leather bound like the ones Carmy used, with your name scribbled on the spine. You ran your fingers over the messy calligraphy and exhaled.
Carmy's profile in your darkened bedroom looked almost angelic, a marble sculpture in a half lit church, his skin reflecting the streetlights outside your apartment. The illusion was somewhat broken as he spoke slowly.
You were in the middle of pillow talk. The rare few times when you fucked without him biting you, it left you satisfied and tired but with enough blood flowing to your brain to be fully conscious and coherent. Carmy turned a little gentler and more talkative, feeding your insatiable curiosity about his backstory and the inner workings of the restaurant. You were intertwined in bed, naked. It was nice and domestic, almost human.
"So... Is Richie a vampire too?" you asked.
"No. He was considering it back when Mikey was still here," he said, rubbing his chin. "But no. I mean he has a daughter, hard to go pick her up from school when you're this way."
"I get it," you nodded - back then at least he would have spent eternity with his best friend. "What about Syd?"
"No," Carmy shook his head emphatically. "And she's not interested. At all. I think the idea of cooking but not being able to taste it is terrifying for her," he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.
"Ebra?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Have you heard about how he was a military doctor?"
"Yes," you arched your eyebrows with curiosity.
"Well, that was in the 1920s. Somalia was still under Italian and British rule-" he sighed, he probably knew the story by heart. "It's a whole thing, you can ask him, just know he'll go on about it for a couple of hours."
"Oh, I will ask him," you smiled giddily. "Holy shit. Wait... Is Sweeps-?"
"Oh, yeah. There's a reason he's so good at his job. He can actually remember what a vintage tasted back when it was made."
They could eat, Carmy had explained before, but most things tasted stale and wrong. Wine, for whatever reason, was enjoyable for most vampires though - a random occurrence that worked out perfectly for Sweeps, it seemed.
"So the whole baseball thing is a lie?"
"No. He did play baseball and was really good at it," Carmy explained. "Only it was in the 1970s - his career was over when he was turned."
"Not many teams that play only in the night time, I guess."
"Yeah," he turned to look at you, an amused expression on his face. He was enjoying this almost as much as you were. There weren't many people he could talk about this so openly. "Any other guesses?"
"Jess?"
"Yeah. She was a riveter in World War II. She ran her shipyard like it was the navy."
"I can imagine," you pictured it so clearly. Suddenly, you remembered an exchange you had seen between Jess and Richie, something flirtatious in the way they were talking, a magnetic pull as they moved around each other... "But if she's... Like you... Then her and Richie..."
"Mmm?"
Oh. Carmy hadn't noticed. And all at once it was obvious why their situation worried you so much - it was like holding a mirror. It was a conversation that needed to happen eventually. Just not now.
"Never mind. What about Tina?" you asked, mainly to change the topic, knowing in your heart the answer was 'no'.
"No, she's not. But she's cool, wants to learn about the whole thing," Carmy smiled fondly. "She also thinks I have a soul, which is nice of her."
You rolled over to look at him properly. "Don't you?"
His expression was blank, forcefully hiding some hurt. "I don't think it's possible. I've seen too much, done too much shit to truly believe it, you know? Here," he took your hand and placed it on his chest. "See? No heartbeat."
You had the sudden urge to start crying. "Carm..."
"It's okay," he shook his head gently, rubbing the knuckles of your hand. "You don't need to- It's okay. I've made peace with it."
You scooted closer to him, holding his face in your hands.
"I can't just hear you say something so-" your voice broke. "Fuck, Carmy. You're so human, so..." you looked into his eyes - blue and beautiful. "You're so loved."
He managed a sad smile. "Baby..."
"I'm not just saying it, okay?" you insisted, soothing the skin on his cheekbone. "You see beauty in the world. You create. You are so passionate about everything. How can you even doubt it?"
Carmy's eyes were glassy, looking at you with soft adoration.
"Thank you," he said after a while. Then he took your hand and placed a reverent kiss on the inside of your wrist, inhaling deep as he pressed his lips on your skin.
"I mean it," you whispered.
"I know."
He captured your lips with his and kissed you like he was trying to fit everything he felt for you in his touch. Longing. Tenderness. Hunger. His hands held your hips close to his, his lips were relentless against yours, your fingers tugged at his hair with need. You opened your legs to get him closer still. He stopped to press a kiss on your cheek and whisper:
"Can I just-?" he started to ask and you immediately nodded.
"Yes. Anything."
You trusted him in a way that was downright stupid considering who he was, what he was. He shook his head with a soft smile and kissed his way down your body, to settle between your thighs.
You tugged on his curls to bring him closer to your pussy, where you were aching the most for him. He shook his head again, placing a kiss on the bend of your thigh and your mound and then moving lower still. His mouth was now on the inside of your thigh - the soft skin got covered in goosebumps as he exhaled on it.
"What are you-?"
He sunk his teeth on your flesh. The pulsing euphoria you knew well by now flooded your veins. It was electric and more powerful than ever before. The bite was much closer to your pussy, was that why you were a whining needy mess already? Or maybe the blood flow was stronger there and that was the reason that you were immediately seeing white and trembling under his touch? You would ask the hows and whys later but now all you could do was moan and writhe in pleasure as he sucked your blood. His strong hands held you in place.
"Carm," you sighed. "Holy shit."
You pulled on his curls hard and he reemerged, his lips covered in blood. He ran his fingers up and down your sides while he pressed kisses on your belly and hips. Possessive, playful.
"So sweet. Fuck," he rasped.
"What do I taste like?" you asked.
You were expecting a full breakdown of your dinner, Carmy listing every ingredient with precision, as per usual.
"Lavender honey. Marigolds. Apples. Sunlight," he said instead.
You frowned. "But I-"
"I know what you ate," he interrupted you. "But that's all you. Always. Whenever I drink from you... Behind the fine dining bullshit, that's you. Delicious and warm and so sweet."
For a moment, all you could do was stare. His right hand was firmly holding your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his and stated the obvious:
"I... I think I love you."
Carmy smiled, his teeth eerily white and sharp in the darkness.
"I love you too."
You should be terrified, you knew that. But you were so damn happy.
You cupped his face and brought him closer so you could kiss him, lovingly, gently. The metallic taste on his tongue should have been repelling, it should have... You traced his lower lip with your tongue and he moaned into your mouth. While you were consumed kissing him, he had placed his hand on your pussy, his fingers tracing lines between your folds, making you feverish. You flung one of your legs over his hips, opening yourself up for him.
"Carmy..." you moaned, his fingers curling inside you, making you tremble in his hold. You thrust against his hand, panting into his mouth. "I can't. Ah…"
Your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulsing, your mouth wide open while you rode the aftershocks. When it was done, Carmy took his fingers out of you and into his mouth, sucking them clean.
"Bite me again. Please, please, please..." you begged weakly.
Slowly, he moved back between your thighs. He pressed his teeth into your flesh again and you sighed with relief, every inch of your body lit up with pleasure.
"Yes."
He stayed there for a long while, you carded your fingers through his hair and hummed while he fed. You felt satisfied, completely content.
You must have gone very still and quiet because all of a sudden he was close to your face, his index on your pulse point and a concerned expression on his features.
"Still with me?"
"Barely," you croaked.
"Sorry," he pressed a kiss on your jaw and lay down next to you. "Got carried away."
"It's fine," you reassured him, caressing his face. "Feels so good."
"Yeah?" you could hear his voice but it was a faint sound, far away.
Go off y'all, for whichever fandom you like. Just tag your posts with #midnight promptober so I can find them! I might even provide feedback (depending on how many people participate and if they want it).
Rules: have fun. Seriously, if you only do a few, do all of them, write one sentence for a prompt, or write ten pages--whatever it is, just have fun.
Kicks off October 1st, 2025.
(This one's for y'all, @carmenberzattosgf and @butterflyslinky)
Bb can we get a third installment to your recent Virgin Carmy series....maybe one where he finally lets himself be touched? 🥵
I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the love you've given this series. Like, we're moving at a snail's pace so it feels so validating that you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. All of this to say, ask and you shall receive! 💜
(This series: [1] [2] [3] [4] )
Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)
Rating: Explicit (2.6k)
Tags: Smut, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), Fluff, Long Distance Relationship, Established Relationship, Masturbation, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Dom/Sub Undertones, Both Carmy and Reader have a Huge Praise Kink
Your first few days in Chicago had you wondering whether Carmy was attracted to you physically or not, his touch was loving, yes, but also careful and always above the waist. Now, as soon as he got home, he pushed you towards the bedroom and kissed you eagerly, squeezing your hips and ass like a horny teenager. He settled between your legs and kissed and licked and made you come undone hard and fast.
"Holy shit, Carm..." you panted. Your face was sweaty and your legs were trembling around his face. Your shirt was hiked up, your bra was askew, and your jeans and panties were somewhere across the room. "I'm a fucking mess."
"Mhmm," he smiled against your skin, cat-like and satisfied as he kissed the curve of your hip.
He sat up and you saw he was hard, his hand unconsciously rubbing himself over his jeans.
"Do you want me to help?" you offered gently as he lay down beside you. You caressed the side of his face - his brows were furrowed, some inner conflict was stopping him from saying yes. But you didn't push, you just waited.
"Um, can I just kiss you?" he asked in the end.
"Of course," you replied immediately and brought him closer.
You heard him unbutton his jeans and start stroking himself in earnest. He kissed you hungrily, drowning low moans against your lips. You caressed his shoulders, then kissed down his neck, sucking a little on his pulse point. Carmy shivered.
"Fuck. That's-" he stuttered, losing his train of thought when you dragged your nails over his chest, teasing his nipples over his shirt. He hummed with pleasure. "That feels so good."
You felt his hand pick up speed beside you. His breath hitched and he groaned low. You looked up from the crook of his neck. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, breathing deep.
You kissed the side of his face. "You're so beautiful like this, Carm. So perfect."
He smiled and kissed you.
~
It was late at night and you were making out with Carmy. As soon as he had walked through the door, he took you in his arms and carried you to sit on the counter. Your legs were open, framing his waist; your shirt was on the floor right next to his. His hands caressed you over your bra, making you moan into his mouth. He brought you closer to the edge of the counter, enough that you could feel his hard cock near your center.
"We should go to bed. You gotta get up early tomorrow," you mumbled, meaning the opposite. You tugged on the waistband of his jeans needily.
Carmy slowed down. "You're right. Yeah," he blinked hard. "Just let me take care of this."
He adjusted his jeans and gestured towards the bathroom. You jumped from the counter and rushed to stop him, grabbing his wrist.
"Carm, I was joking!"
He flushed, embarrassed. "Got me."
"Sorry," you smiled sheepishly and stepped closer. You ran your hand up and down his hip, over his jeans, pulling a little on his belt loops. "Do you want us to keep going?"
He touched his forehead against yours and exhaled.
"It's just that I- I don't know how long I'll last. Like, fuck, the first time I saw you without your shirt I was this close to-" he cleared his throat. "And then I came in my boxers the first time I ate you out."
You touched the side of his face lovingly.
"It's not a competition. As long as it feels good, you're doing it right, yeah?" Carmy nodded shyly. "Did it feel good, those times?"
"Fucking incredible."
"Then it's good, Carm."
He leaned over to kiss you.
"Yeah, okay," he exhaled, giving you one last peck on the lips.
"Okay," you smiled reassuringly as you unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You moved slowly, giving him time to back out if he decided to. "Let me know how you like it. Like I did."
Carmy nodded again, watching wide eyed as you took out his cock and caressed it, there, standing in the middle of his living room.
You touched him gently at first, stroking the length of him with your palm, tracing the vein on the side with your thumb. Carmy let out a shaky exhale.
"Fuck," he mumbled. You smiled and started pumping him, your hand moving up and down loosely, without rushing. "Just tighter," he managed through gritted teeth. You gripped his cock a little tighter and kept going, suddenly wishing you had lube or even just moisturizer nearby. "A little more...." he pleaded.
"Hold on," you whispered.
You buried your hand inside your underwear, covering your fingers in your own arousal to use as lube on his cock.
"Fuck, you can't do that!" he blurted.
You froze. "Oh. Wait I'll-"
You figured it was your turn to rush to the bathroom embarrassed but Carmy stopped you, guiding your hand back on his cock.
"No, I meant it's hot," he chuckled. "There..."
Your hand glided down his length, the sound of it lewd and arousing. You held him tight like he asked you.
"Yeah?" you checked in.
He nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
"Exactly. Can you-?" he took your free hand and placed it on his throat. You caressed the tendons of his neck and placed your thumb over his Adam's apple. With your other hand, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over the slit of his cock and he shivered. "Like that. Fuuuck."
He stumbled backwards, sitting on the arm of the couch. He gripped the cushions to ground himself, his knuckles white. As you built a rhythm, he seemed to lose control of his body, and he let his head fall on your shoulder.
"Holy fuck," he panted. When he looked up, his eyes were dark and hungry. "I have never... Never... So fucking good," he mumbled nonsense.
"Yeah?" you smiled proudly when he nodded. You tugged on his lower lip with your thumb and he let it fall inside his mouth, sucking on it, moaning around it.
He let go of your finger to say: "Fuck, I'm losing my mind."
"In a good way?"
"In the best way. Can you do that again?" he asked, one of his hands playing with the elastic of your underwear.
You let go of his cock only for a moment but he still whined at the loss. You touched your pussy again, allowing yourself more time to coat each digit with arousal and give yourself a little relief as well.
Carmy followed your every move with his eyes, trembling with anticipation. You closed your hand around his cock, teasing.
"A little faster?" you offered.
"Yes. Please," a slight break in his voice as you sped up. He groaned low. "Oh, my God. Shit."
"Yes?"
"Yes. Holy shit," he cursed when you added a flick of your wrist on the upstroke. "Holy fuck," his voice was high and needy and you could tell he was close. You caressed down his shoulders with your free hand, landing on his chest, rubbing his nipple with your thumb. His loud moan surprised you both. "Fuck. Keep going. Please. Please," you kept your rhythm steady as he thrust his hips upwards. His cock twitched in your hand and he stopped moving altogether. "Oh, my God..." he managed, spasms suddenly shaking his body as he released on your hand and his stomach. "Ah. Fuck..."
"Let go, Carm. Relax, baby," you cooed, slowing down the movement of your hand until you were only holding him.
"Was that okay?" he panted. You knew he was still out of it, but you answered anyway.
"You were so good, Carm," you assured him, caressing his hair.
"Yeah?"
"You were incredible," he looked up with a sedated smile and you kissed him sweetly. "Wanna take a quick shower?"
"Yeah," he followed you blindly to the bathroom. He started thinking clearly by the time you were halfway done washing his hair - you could see his eyes focus again after he rinsed the shampoo.
"Thank you," you said.
"Mmm?"
"For trusting me," you said simply.
"C'mere," he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you hard.
~
You were sitting on the bed next to Carmy, backs leaning on the headboard, going through your phone in silence. He had been very quiet all night. He said 'hello' and kissed your cheek, then mumbled:
"Had a bad day. 'm not mad at you, I just don't feel like talking right now."
And you nodded and gave him space, going through your night routine in silence. It was a little weird, a little tense, but it helped knowing it had nothing to do with you. So you did your best to think about something else, anything - but your brain had been obsessing about one idea only and seeing him with his hair wet from the shower didn't help get your mind out of the gutter.
"Carm?" you called.
"Mmm?" he seemed a little more relaxed, frowning a little but not as upset as when he got home.
"Would you ever..." you hesitated. "Be interested in, uh-"
He softened his expression and turned towards you.
"What?"
"Me sucking your cock," you blurted out.
He started coughing, eyes open in shock. When he recovered he said sternly: "Give a guy some warning."
You giggled. "Sorry," you put your head on your hand, waiting. "So?"
He took a deep inhale. "Yeah. I think that would be- Yeah."
"Okay," you smiled mischievously
He looked up, flushed. "So when-?"
You bit your lip. "Is now too soon? You said you had a bad day."
Not that it would fix it, but it would definitely take his mind off things.
Carmy ran a hand through his hair. "You're gonna kill me," you could see him trembling slightly from anticipation. "Yeah. Definitely. Whenever. Go ahead."
"Okay," you smiled wide, tying your hair up and moving the duvet that covered you both out of the way. He took your hand and squeezed it a little.
"I might... Not last," be said avoiding your gaze.
"I know. It's okay," you shrugged.
"Okay. Right," he exhaled, a little more relaxed. "Uh. Just let me-" he lifted his hips tugging his boxer briefs out of the way. His cock was already half hard, you touched the length of him gently. He hummed. You kissed down his body, until you were lying on your stomach, your chin on his hip.
He saw you there and let out a shaky exhale. "Baby."
You caressed him, the hair on his stomach, the skin of his thighs. You could see him grasping the bedsheets, his chest was barely moving - he was holding his breath.
"Just relax. Deep breath," you said, your voice husky. He let go of the bedsheets and inhaled then exhaled slowly. " Atta boy."
He chuckled. "Not fair."
"Huh?"
"You just- know. You know how to mess me up," he rubbed his face with both hands embarrassed and aroused.
"I mean. You told me. About wanting to be told you deserve it and you're good," you kissed his hips, getting closer to his cock but not touching it with your mouth yet. "You are, by the way."
"Stop," Carmy managed with a strangled voice. "I'm already hard."
"Good," you smiled, mouth watering when you saw his cock, hard and leaking. You had wanted to touch him and make him feel good for so long. He wasn't holding on to the bedsheets anymore but he seemed a little lost as to where to put his hands. "You can touch me while I do this, by the way," you said gently. He placed one hand on the small of your back, rubbing calming patterns underneath your sweatshirt.
Satisfied that he seemed relaxed enough, you started kissing up his length, focusing on the head of his cock, making each kiss more open mouthed than the one before, getting him wet with your spit.
"Oh, that's..." he mumbled, leaving that thought unfinished when you grabbed the base of his cock and then took the head into your mouth, velvety and salty "Baby. Oh, my God..." you went up and down, agonizingly slow, not taking the entire length of him, just a couple of inches. His hand went up, caressing the nape of your neck. "Fuck," he groaned and you hollowed your cheeks. "Stop."
You let him go immediately and looked up.
"You okay?" you asked, a little worried.
"Yeah," he panted. He looked feverish. "Just need a second."
"Too much?" you asked, caressing the side of his hip, soothing.
"A little."
You nodded in understanding and kissed up his body instead, his abs, mouthing at the hair on his belly and his chest.
"Take your time. Let me know," you said gently, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
After a little while, Carmy's breathing went back to normal and he said:
"You can keep going. Just slow," he said shyly. You kissed the side of his face and went back to work. He had softened a little in the meantime, so you pumped him and took him in your mouth again, not hollowing your cheeks this time. You focused on caressing him with your tongue, slowly, sensually. He moaned. "Yeah. That's perfect," you smiled with satisfaction. You let him go with a pop, pumping his length with your hand, licking the base while your thumb rubbed his slit. "Jesus Christ. Mhmm," he canted his hips a little. He let out a frustrated groan. "Can you do the thing with your tongue again? Underneath?" you obliged immediately, taking him back in your mouth, swirling your tongue on the underside of him, feeling him shiver. "That. Shiiiiiit. That feels fucking incredible, oh my God," his hand was holding your head, massaging your scalp, tugging on your hair needily. He guided your free hand to his crotch, almost touching his balls. "Can you-?" and you understood, fondling the soft skin, touching him carefully. "Baby. Fuck," he pressed a little on your skull, silently pleading that you take more if him. And, fuck, if he sounded like that and asked nicely you might actually let him fuck your face. Another time. He was breathing fast and his whole body was tense. "I'm- I'm close. I'm-" he warned you and you moved back, giving him room to thrust while still being in your mouth. He moaned loud and shook with pleasure - and you swallowed and swallowed. When you were sure he was done you let him go and sat up. He was red in the face and sweaty, his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing erratic. You fixed a curl that had fallen on his forehead.
"You okay, Carm?"
He nodded and cleared his throat. "Perfect."
You cupped his face. "Too much?"
He opened his eyes, an expression of infinite fondness coloring his features.
"C'mere," he brought you close for an open mouthed kiss and you knew he could taste himself, maybe he was even enjoying it judging by his groans. "Fuck. You're unreal. That was everything," he said earnestly. "And you're just so- Patient and kind and-"
“It's easy to be that way with you. I kind of like you a lot," you confessed.
"Yeah?"
"Wouldn't suck your cock if I didn't," you teased.
"Fuck off," he laughed and let out a big exhale. You were half expecting him to lay back down and fall asleep. Instead, he said: "Okay your turn."
He manhandled you to open your legs near the edge of the bed so he could kneel.
"Not fucking fair," you complained half-heartedly since he hadn't let you return the favor at least three times now. But you couldn't complain, not with his tongue flicking expertly at your clit. "Carm..."
"Shit," he sucked on your entrance. "You are soaked."
first off, just want to say i love love love how you write carmy! i feel like you capture him perfectly. i would love to see #20 with carmy x reader. thanks! 💕💕
20) gentle comforting sex
Thank you, Anon, I really appreciate it! I really make an effort to get his characterization right - which is always subjective but I try and that's all that matters 🙈
This is a little angsty, I hope not too much, and I hope you like it!
Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)
Rating: Explicit (2.2k)
Tags: Hurt & Comfort, Nightmares, Suicide TW, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Porn with a little plot, Established Relationship, Mutual Masturbation, P in V Sex
It was usually Carmy who had the nightmares. It was usually Carmy who would thrash in his sleep in a cold sweat or wake up screaming in the middle of the night. You would soothe his back and his shoulders, drawing him into your embrace, mumbling sweet nothings and playing with his hair until his breathing settled and his heartbeat slowed down. It had scared you at first but the nightmares were less and less frequent and you knew how to help now, how you could be a safe place for him.
It was usually him who had the nightmares.
~
You were running down a never-ending hallway, the lights were harsh and fluorescent. It was eerily quiet, all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat. You didn't know where you were going but you remembered you were supposed to be looking for something, someone...
A loud metallic noise echoed down the hallway, like a door slamming or a gun firing. You ran towards it and that's when you saw him.
Carmy lay on the floor, his eyes wide open and unfocused, a pool of blood gathering underneath him. This couldn't be happening. Not him.
"Carmy. Carmy, baby, wake up!" you held his face, terrifyingly cold; the back of his hair was wet with blood. "Don't leave me, please," you sobbed. "Carm. Carmy!"
~
You woke up crying, feeling like your chest was too tight and you couldn't breathe. You sat up and hugged your legs, trembling.
"Hey, hey..." Carmy's voice called. His hand was warm on your back, caressing up and down your spine. "It's alright. It was just a bad dream."
"You're here," you said, your voice broken and quiet.
"Yes, I'm here," he soothed gently. "I'm right here, baby."
You took a deep breath. "Sorry for waking you," you mumbled.
"It's okay. Wanna lie back down? I can hold you," he offered.
You nodded, feeling like you might start crying again if you tried to speak. You settled down next to him. He held you by the waist, your face buried in his chest, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart.
"Wanna talk about it?" he whispered.
You shook your head, hiding your face.
"You sure? I've heard it helps," he said, his tone lighter. You said the same to him sometimes.
You knew what the dream meant. You had learned how Mikey died a few weeks ago - Nat told you. Now, on Carmy's worst days there was that fear you couldn't shake off... But how could you tell him all that? But then again, how couldn't you?
"Uh. I was running. Looking for you. And, um, there was this loud bang and then- I found you lying on the floor... You were hurt. There was so much blood, Carm. And- And you were gone."
He squeezed you tighter, his arms strong and comforting around you. He was so warm, so alive.
"It's okay," he whispered. "It was just a dream. Everything's okay."
Eventually, you stopped crying and gathered enough courage to look up. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling like a little kid scared of the dark.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Carmy wiped the tears from your face gently. "I- I get it. Why you're scared. It scares me too sometimes. Like, he was my brother, what if I'm like him? You know?" he said softly, his eyes glassy. "But, uh, he never spoke about it, he pushed people away. And I'm trying to not be like that. I'm working on that."
"I know," you sniffled.
"And I have you. And Nat. And Syd. And Richie, I guess. He probably would tie me to the desk if I started acting weird," he said easily and it made you laugh softly. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Better?"
"Mhmm," you put your palm on his chest.
"Anything else I can do?" he asked, eyebrows arched and pleading.
"Just kiss me," you said, cupping his face.
And he kissed you, slow and tender, his hands splayed on your back, making you feel safe. It was you who deepened the kiss, your fingers carding his hair, your tongue in his mouth. He followed along, bringing you closer still, pressing his solid body against yours.
Comforting Carmy from a nightmare never ended in you two making out but this was exactly what you needed now - feeling grounded in your body, being reminded Carmy was right here and he loved you.
You flung your leg over his hip.
"This okay?" you asked breathily, curving your body even closer to him. "I need you."
"Yeah," he nodded and slotted his thigh between your own.
You kept kissing, tugging on his shirt and tossing it across the room. He took your sweatshirt off, kissing your shoulder and the inside of your wrist as he went. You both remained there, lying sideways. You wanted to hold him tight and see his face.
"Just let me..." Carmy mumbled, grabbing your hips to take your underwear off, then his. He used the pause to grab a condom from his bedside table too.
You caressed his cock. Your hand moved up and down his length, slowly, feeling it harden with your touch. You traced the vein on the side of it with your thumb; the skin was smooth and warm. Carmy let out a shaky exhale.
His hand cupped your pussy; his tattooed fingers spread your arousal and circled your clit. You hummed in delight and ground against him - his cock slid between your bodies, rubbing softly against your pussy.
You kissed Carmy's neck, giving special care to the spot under his ear and the skin near his collarbone until he hummed with pleasure. He put the condom on and kissed you deeply.
"You take such good care of me," you said, hands running up and down his ribs, marveling at the way his tattoos shifted with every breath.
"I try to," he mumbled, kissing the side of your face.
He grabbed your leg, opening you up. You guided his cock to your entrance and he pushed inside you slowly. You sighed at the feeling of fullness.
The way you were lying didn't allow for much movement, your hips lazily swaying in tandem with his. But he was close to you. Your bodies were lined up and you could feel his skin against yours, his arms around you. Every breath he took felt as if it was your own.
"Carmy..."
"I'm here, I'm right here, baby," he kissed you sweetly. "Not going anywhere."
You swayed together, slowly building up a rhythm that had you moaning softly into his mouth. You wished he felt how much you loved him just from your touch, the way you sighed his name, and the way you fluttered around him.
"I love you," you whispered, just in case.
"Love you," he said right back.
His hand guided yours downwards, towards your clit. You rubbed it while Carmy grabbed your hips forcefully to speed up the rhythm you had built and bury himself deeper in your pussy.
"Carm..." you moaned soft and low.
"I got you, I got you," he insisted. "I'm right here."
You let out a strangled sound, shaking and pulsing around him and he followed you immediately, groaning against your skin.
You stayed like that for a while, breathing hard. His arms rounded you and you felt like nothing bad could happen if he kept holding you like that.
"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he repeated.
You caressed his face trying to memorize every wrinkle and mole - and the beautiful blue of his eyes as he drifted back to sleep.
