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thebearer · 1 day

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nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.

There you were.

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.

From: Richie

‘Look at table nine.’

Sugar huffed.

To: Richie

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?

To: Richie

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’

From: Richie

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 months

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The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back.

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise. But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear. Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

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yangsharperavery · 9 months

Text

richie will 100% make a direct comment about the nature of carmy/sydney’s dynamic/connection next season, without question.

and it goes far beyond his “ooohhh” after they fought in front of everyone. though that wasn’t a throw away line bc the camera panned to him in the middle of them going back and forth. he’s watching them INTENTLY.

what makes me certain that he’ll say something is everything else we’ve come to know and been told about richie, especially this past season.

him being this perceptive, people person. being good with people. really SEEING people, and even the shrouded part of them they think is hidden from view.

first, he knew natalie was pregnant, even offered her sprite.

but this is the scene that really tips me off: when sydney comes in late to the pre- open meeting, it isn’t just carmy that turns to watch her enter, it’s also richie. when marcus follows, again... it’s carmy AND richie who look.

now, this isn’t odd for carmy, his eyes find sydney in a room often. but richie mirroring carmy in this scene is very specific and distinct.

richie might even be the one that catches on to marcus’ thing for sydney and tells carmy about it. then he could potentially even react to carmy’s likely strong reaction to this information, only for richie to make additional comments that then showcase carmy’s denial or refuting of this thing that richie has been observing.

either way, richie is saying something.

he might even say something to sydney directly. it’ll be entertaining regardless.

the denial olympics will be funny.

#carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #richie jerimovich #the bear #the bear fx #even if they're in repressed denial about it #richie will absolutely make it a thing to SOMEONE

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months

Note

Still wanting requests? I have a couple…

Can I get a idiots in love with Carmy x reader where he suddenly get jealous and possessive when you are working out front and a customer keeps touching you leg or back when you’re taking their order. (I was a server & bartender for 11 years and the audacity of the men who thought that this was okay, but we couldn’t tell them to stop because we were afraid of getting in trouble!!!)

How would Carmy react when he sees it, and after when he is kind of heated talking to you in the office and you tell him that’s that is something all women have to deal with on a daily bases. Everywhere. How would he react to this info?

Not under my watch

It's pretty late. Dinner service is almost over. Everyone's already had more than a couple of glasses of wine. Your feet are killing you. You just want to sit down but still, you keep that plastered smile on your face because the last thing you need is for the customers to notice your tired face.

And there's this one table that you tried to visit as rarely as possible. A couple of duchy-looking bikers. From the moment they stepped in, you knew they were up to something. Just the way their gazes followed every female in the restaurant said it all. A cold shiver ran down your back as you reached for the menus, walking towards them. In a perfect scenario, you would have gotten Richie to cover this but he had slipped out to drive Eva to her ballet class so it was just you.

"Hello, welcome to the Bear. Is there something I could get you two straight away?", you say in a chirpy voice. The two of them look at you like hawks. As if they were checking what part to bite into first. "How about we start with your name, baby girl", you already want to gag but keep up that same smile, "I don't think that's necessary, sir", "Oh, but how will we get your sweet cheeks here when we're in need for you?", the other says, leaning back to check your ass. "I'll let you look through the menu and will be back shortly to take your order", you say, turning to walk away. Stopping to pick up empty plates from the other tables. Saying goodbye to some of the customers. Thanking them for coming and wishing them a lovely evening. Yet all that time you could feel eyes watching you. Following your every move. And suddenly you get hyper-aware of how your shirt feels a bit too low cut and your breasts feel too outlined by the tight material. How the skirt feels too low cut. And you suddenly wonder if you lean across the table, does it show too much? But it's all the things you've never thought about. Nothing that bothered you before those two came along. The uniform is professional and the whole staff wears it. You try to shake it off. Glancing towards the clock. Richie should be back any minute now. He'll take over. You'll be fine. A thought about telling something to Carmen crosses your mind but you quickly chase that thought away. He's busy. And those two aren't worth his time.

A whistle catches your attention and you see one of them waving you over. You grit your teeth. Feeling like a dog called by an owner. "Ready to order?", you get your pen ready. Trying not to meet any of their eyes. "I'd like some with these tender-looking thighs", You feel his fingers reaching for the back of your leg and you quickly step back. Panic rises in your stomach. "Sir, I would ask you to...", you start, "You'll be begging by the time I'm done, doll. Not asking", he states. "Bend over why don't you", You feel another pair of hands on your back and you want to move away but you're so scared. Your whole body freezes. You grip the pan in your arms as you stare ahead.

And may all the holy spurts be with them. Because Carmen decided to look through the little window that leads to the front. A habit of his now that you've been working here. It's his way of calming himself in a way. Watching you smiling and chatting with the people always makes him feel at ease. He loves nothing more than watching you in your element. But it's also his way of making sure that you are well. This is Chicago after all. Too many dodgy people sneaking around. And his blood stopped pumping when he catches those two men groping you.

And, holy hell, is Carmen ready to raise hell. I don't even think there would be a question as to what he would do. Carmen's dropping the spoon into the pot and storming through the kitchen door. Because this is not acceptable. He snatches a couple of utensils as he goes. Ripping the hands away from your body. Slamming the rough stranger's palms to the table before two sets of forks make contact with their skin. "You fuckers will be lucky to walk out of here in one piece", he barks out. The room fills with cries of pain and swearing.

You feel someone else's hand on you once more, jumping slightly, only to be met with Richie. It's all a blur after that. Richie says something to Carmen. You feel him touching your face but you're kind of looking past him. It's all just a series of events. And then you end up in Carmen's office with him kneeling in front of you. "My love", he breathes out, carefully pushing a strand of your loose hair away. It killed him seeing you like this. His little sunshine. Absolute ray of sunshine now nothing more but a grey sky. Oh, how much Carmen wanted to go there and just beat the daylight out of these creeps.

"I'm okay", you mutter, reaching to squeeze his hand that has been lying on your thigh. "You should have come to grab me, love", he growls lightly you know that he's not mad at you. He's mad at the whole situation. It's frustrating to him that this shit is happening right under his nose. "Carm, it's fine. It's not the first time and...", but his wild eyes cut you off, "What do you... What do you mean not the first time?". His breaths are shallow now. You lean forward to cup his face, "It happened all the time in my last job. Hand on the back. Hand on the leg". Carmen is shaking his head, "I'll fucking find them all and", "And nothing, love, no one cares". But Carmen huffs, "I care. I care and this will never happen again. You come and tell me any time someone is looking suspicious to you", he's pulling you closer to him. Wrapping you up in his arms, "No one will touch you like that again. Not under my fucking watch".

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #the bear tv show #the bear x reader #the bear imagine #the bear x y/n

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 27 days

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I'm just appreciating the planning when it comes to friends and family seating and the deliberate blocking of Emmanuel and carmy meeting.

While Claire is sitting at the table, she is also positioned diagonally across Sydney's father. This positioning shows how close Emmanuel is from Claire's table, as seen by Richie simply standing up and turning to greet Emmanuel.

So hypothetically, when Carmy decides to see Claire later on, be could have easily met Emmanuel, but it seems the timing was off.

Not only for Carmy but for Fak. Notice Sydney requests Fak to check on her dad, who only has to open the door and see Emmanuel, but Fak is interrupted by RIchie.

Question- Why is Fak blocked from meeting Emmanuel? Would he reveal too much about Carmy if he has a conversation with Sydney's dad? Remember 2x05, Natalie asked Fak to talk to the maintenance guy as a distraction? This time, Richie directs Fak to do what his original job is - fixing things and not budding into relationships and distracting like he's been doing all season.

So Fak walks back to the kitchen without meeting Emmanuel, distracted by the exploding toilet and passes Claire and Carmy.

Now, this is the shot that gives us the first opportunity to meet. Carmy stands from Claire's table, in the same position as Richie from earlier, but the camera cuts out Emmanuel's side of the table.

Carmy is too distracted to look Emmanuel's way when Natalie walks up with a wet shirt.

After he sends Natalie to the kitchen for a new shirt, Carmy is presented with another possibility of meeting Emmanuel.

He's right behind Emmanuel, maybe a foot or 2 away (you see Emmanuels head in the whip pan shot. They're that close) , but Carmy is frozen when he sees his EMP Boss. He is stuck in the past and unable to process his surroundings. Sydney and Emmanuel are on his right side, and if Carmy was present, he can focus on them and move forward, maybe telling us they're a big part of his future, and carmy has to be ready to see it.

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #when will emmanuel and carmy meet properly #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto

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ashesofivory · 2 months

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kissy smudge

: ̗̀➛ pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader.

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

: ̗̀➛ warnings: swearing, fluff.

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

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.9 k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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leviathanspain · 10 months

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breathless

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: it’s opening night and emotions are at an all time high

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the sweat had muddled your vision, and you were close to a breakdown. carmy was nowhere to found, and you were counting down with the clock.

sydney had been giving out orders and you followed diligently, but you were distracted. he was your biggest weakness. whenever he entered a room, he would consume your thoughts completely, and even when he was not even there, he was all you could think about.

“where’s carm?” you asked, watching richie pass by you in his suit. he had taken to wearing suits now, and you respected him for it, even in the blazing heat of the kitchen.

richie walked over to the fridge and pointed, “he’s in timeout.” he knocked on the door and you could hear the muffled response of carmen, who was stuck in the fridge.

“fuck..” you muttered, the guilt of the past argument washed over you. carmy had yelled at you, and it was different this time, you had yelled back, and made it worse. you turned to watch your steak. you could hear the fat burning off as it cooked, all the seasonings sending the beautiful aroma to your nose. you had finally found your focus-

“what about claire?” richie asked fak, who had come into the kitchen, also wearing a suit. he had broken your focus, talking about the girl that carmen had been spending a lot of time with. he glanced over at you and turned his back, richie following. they continued to talk for a minute until they broke off, and both went out to the front.

you cursed, and looked over at sydney, “syd- did carm call the fridge guy?” this was the worst time to even ask, orders were coming out like crazy and you were still cooking your steak-

sydney looked at you with concern, “no. he’s going to be okay, chef.” you were like sisters, she could see your emotions on your face better than anyone. “i need that steak for table twenty one, chef. now.” she redirected you back to your work, and you swallowed thickly, nodding as you went back to your station.

though that didn’t seem to last long. you hadn’t noticed tina by the fridge door, didn’t even bother to notice that she had been talking for a few minutes to carmy. tina looked at you, waving her hand, “come here,” she whispered, “he’s asking for you.” she said as you neared. you stepped back, shaking your head, “no, tina, i-“ you couldn’t finish your protest as claire burst through the kitchen doors.

she looked at you, disdain just at the sight of you, she stalked over to the fridge door, leaning her ear on it just as tina did.

you completely shut down. staring at her do what you should be doing- it broke you. maybe the emotional turmoil wasn’t just because of your complicated relationship with carmy, maybe it was the fact that you, you opened a restaurant and that you were-

you ran back to your steak. it was burnt, all the fat and grease had been cooked out of the pan, the steak was practically smoking, only the burnt smell lingered. “fuck!” you yelled, grabbing the pan with the steak, you threw it into the nearest garbage. you looked over at sydney, eyes welling up with tears, “i’m sorry.” the tears fell immediately as you spoke, your voice quivered and so did your hands as you ripped off your apron.

“y/n!” sydney called after you but you didn’t even look back. you just kept walking until you hit the back door exit.

carmy felt like he was going crazy. he was crazy, he had come to realize that now. he was stupid, for not calling the fridge guy, otherwise he wouldn’t have been stuck in there.

he had been telling tina, telling her how he should’ve never let his attention split off from the restaurant, but it did. and he professed that unknowingly to claire, not knowing she was there to hear how much he regretted ever being with her.

it wasn’t so much as just the restaurant he wanted to focus on, it was you. claire had broken up with him, and yet all he could think about was you. he had begged tina to get you, but he had heard your rejection, and even heard you cursing before the sounds of pots and pans being thrown.

he had called out claire’s name, but it didn’t feel right.

you had been sitting outside contemplating. you had been in this spot before, the limbo of quitting before actually deciding to walk off. it’s happened a handful of times, and usually it wouldn’t need any convincing, but this felt like it did.

you had also found josh, the newly hired chef who had disappeared on tina, and now, “you’re fired.” you hadn’t hesitated to tell him, watching as his hands wrapped around the crack pipe. he had questioned your authority and you scoffed, “i’ve given five years of my life to this place. don’t tell ask me on what authority.”

marcus had come out to join you, although by the looks of it, not actually.

“are you okay?” marcus looked at you, surprised to find you sitting on an old milk crate. you shrugged, bring one of carmen’s cigarettes to your lips, “is he out yet?” you asked, and marcus shook his head, “fridge guy probably won’t get here till close. he’s stuck there.” he pulled out another milk crate and sat down next to it. you gave him a smile, offering a cigarette, “no thanks.” he shook his head, “but i thought you didn’t smoke?”

you nodded, “i don’t. i just miss him a little.” you looked at the cigarette, and laughed, you really did miss him, even if he was ten feet away locked in a little refrigerator, you were too hurt to talk to him.

marcus nodded, “this ain’t any of my business, but you and chef really need to stop being so mean to each other.” you whipped your head to marcus and faked a gasp, “us? mean?!” you laughed, knowing it was all too true, “we’re just people, still learning how to be people.” you inhaled some of the cigarette again, and marcus pursed his lips, “if it helps, he broke up with her.”

the silence filled the ache. tears started flowing and you couldn’t stop them. you felt a little hysterical, joy thrummed through you after marcus said that, but you wondered if it would all go back to normal.

carmy had been sitting in his regret for a while now. he could hear the bustling of everyone still working, but there was no one talking to him-

“carmy?” your voice sounded like an angel. it was soft, full of longing, yet there was sadness in it. he could hear it, hear that twinge.

“y/n? y/n, oh my god,” he grabbed his face, inhaling deeply, “y/n..” his chest felt tight and carmy inhaled trying to get more air.

you could hear him struggling to breathe. the fridge guy had appeared and it prompted you to go with him. you had asked just for five minutes to say something to carmen before they could start rescuing him. but it was going wrong.

“carmen!” you pounded on the door hoping to get some response but there was none.

“get this shit open, now!” you yelled at the fridge guy and sydney came to your side, “what’s wrong? what happened? is he okay?” she looked towards the door and saw the sparks as the fridge guy started using his tools to get the door open.

you shrugged, “this is all my fault- he’s having a panic attack and i-“ you were sobbing now, face buried in sydney’s shoulder, “i did this. he’s struggling because of me-“

sydney pulled you back, you looked eyes with her and she shook her head, “he’s struggling because he self sabotages everything. he did this to himself-“ she looked at the fridge, “he’s carmy.”

he’s carmy. you repeated to yourself, and turned to see the fridge guy getting the door cracked open.

and there he was.

his back was to one of the shelves, leaning into his knees, he was breathing hard and heavy.

“carmen?” you walked into the fridge, warily as you did so, you knelt down to his level, “carm?” you repeated his name until he looked up at you, “i’m sorry.” his hand motioned sorry on his chest and you closed your eyes, hugging him tightly without saying anything.

the success of opening night was unmatched. all of the staff was beaming with pride and excitement, this was only the beginning, and months of working at it had finally paid off.

you had left carmy talking with sugar and went with sydney, who was helping clean up. “hey.” you grabbed a trash bag and started tk dump a lot of stuff into it, “i fired josh, by the way. he was smoking crack. said it helped him.” you said the words in disbelief and all sydney could do was laugh, “oh god.” you matched her laughter, “i know! he even asked me if i should be firing him, like he wasn’t smoking crack?” sydney laughed harder now, “good riddance.”

there was a quiet beat, before you apologized, “i should’ve been focused on my job and not my personal life.” you looked down at the ground, “it’s my fault and im sorry, chef.” she had accepted your apology, and gave you a little hug, “it’s okay. it’s hard when your personal is your job.” she glanced at carmy, who was making his way towards you.

you parted from her and met carm halfway. he stopped and sighed, “i don’t know what to say.” he seemed calm, as if whatever storm was raging in his head had finally stopped.

“just tell me you’re done with her.” you leaned into him, wrapping your hands around his waist, he held you by yours. “i’m done with her.” he spoke, “i promise.”

another beat of silence, as you thought. the argument from earlier seemed long forgotten but you couldn’t forget it. “i’m sorry about..” you trailed off, “earlier. about earlier. i shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”

carmy shook his head, “it was my fault anyway. but i’m sorry for not thinking that this,” he grabbed you, “was even possible.”

you shrugged, “at least you got it eventually.” he nodded, laughing as he pecked you with another kiss.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy angst #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto

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saintvalentinex · 2 years

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#this meal was pretty good. i needed a bigger pan to cook but 😅#richie’s cooking exploits #food tw #richie.txt

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yellowharrington · 3 months

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jaded - chapter 4, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking mention, minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: ok literally i am the worst ever and i totally didn't finish this fic even tho i started it so im finally posting the last part literally MONTHS later!!! sorry besties but i couldn't have an unfinished fic out there in the world so... if u fuck w this story at all thank u for reading it and all the encouraging and nice things people have said, it literally made me want to complete this fic so thank u <3

summary: tying up loose ends.

and it's a fuckin' shame that it ended like that you broke your own heart, but you'd never say that we went to hell, but we never came back

masterlist | chapter 3

It all just feels numb.

Sun coming up over the horizon and a light snowfall onto the street below. Your home is quiet, no pans in the kitchen making French omelettes, no TV playing outside the bedroom door as you sleep. No toothbrushing in the bathroom or running shower water, warm and steamy, inviting you in.

It’s not that you weren’t expecting his answer. Or, lack thereof. It’s that he couldn’t make up his fucking mind. First, he’s cooking you an omelette in your favourite pan with a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He’s spending every evening on the couch with you, your hands splayed out against his stomach, comfortable beneath the waistband of his sweats. You’re in his sweater, baking fresh warm cookies so he can have one before bed, smudges of chocolate against your lips as he pushes you up against the counter, hot skin on cold tile.

Next, he has that look on his face, where he’s somewhere else. Thinking of her, in a dreamland where he can make it right again, and it all feels like it comes crashing down. The sweet nothings don’t exist in this realm, there’s no happiness here.

And when you do have to face him on Monday, it’s back to cold shoulder, nothing different. Yes chef, no chef, thank you chef.

Sydney tries to make conversation, and you feel bad because you won’t bitch about Carmy like you usually would. Richie’s having secret meetings with Natalie, probably more about Claire, but you don’t even think to join in. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and it’s hard enough to go outside and take a fucking break from it all, let alone be in the same cramped kitchen with him. There’s no solitude, just aching, just disappointment.

“Did you order me a new cake pan, chef?” It’s directed at Tina, who looks up at you with the same wistful softness as she always does, smiling before nodding in your direction. You don’t hear her slide over to you, but when she suddenly appears at your station, you can tell she just knows something’s wrong.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, clipboard finding it’s way to the counter beside you, where a piping bag lays. “You’re not yourself. Something… wrong. Don’t tell me a boy did this to you.” The tears prick at your eyes and you swallow it all before you can get out a word, because yeah, it all fucking aches and the hurt feels like it’s sitting right behind your eyes, in your throat, ready to come out.

“It’s nothing. It is a boy but, boys are stupid and I’m not gonna cry over one,” you sniffle, before untying your apron and letting it hang loose on your body. “Not worth it.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your blood runs cold when she gestures just outside to the bright light of the door, where Carmy sits, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other.

Luckily the kitchen is empty when you reply, only so she can hear, “how did you know?”

“I saw the way you looked at him this morning.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Fuck no. Between you and me, chef.”

You sighed relief, letting your front hit the counter as the stress left your body. “Thank fuck. Yeah, I don’t know, we were-“

“Fuckin’?” Tina’s got a sly smile on her face that makes it impossible not to laugh with her.

“Yeah, I guess. It felt like more than that. But apparently he’s still hung up on Claire so, I guess that ends it.”

She exhales slowly, joining you in a lean against the counter. “Jeff makes mistakes, everyone knows that. He’s moody and sad and he’s got fuckin’ problems, that kid, I tell ya.” She pauses for a second, eyes meeting yours, sincere. “But he’s good. I just don’t think he can handle himself, is all.” She takes a beat, letting her soft hand lay over yours, “He doesn’t let himself have the good shit because it always gets ruined. But you’re good. He’s scared of you.”

“He should be scared of me. I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you mutter, letting your floured hand meet your forehead in annoyance. “I’m not responsible for fixing his shit.”

She nods, agreeing with you, a hand cupping yours on the counter. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying he could use someone like you to bring him back to Earth, is all.”

When Carmy does make it back inside, he’s thumbing through paperwork at the desk, hand through his hair stressfully pulling at the strands. He’s trying so hard not to stare at you from where he’s sitting, noticing your cold gaze, somewhere far away. He takes out his phone to scroll through it mindlessly, procrastinating, when he meanders his way to the text icon and opens up your thread. A few texts here and there, mostly just asking about plans to come over, the occasional sexy photo or recipe idea.

[sunday, 10:26] they don't have fresh sourdough. should we just make some this aft?

[saturday, 4:35] i hate when you go in on saturdays

[saturday, 4:36] Photo Recieved

[saturday 4:36] don't you wish you were home with me?

[tuesday, 12:22] is balsamic glaze overdone? lmk. miss u.

It feels a little too domestic, seeing the way he so effortlessly became comfortable with you, a warmth and excitement that was just never there with Claire. It’s raw and it’s guilty and he’ll beat himself up over it forever, but it was never going to be perfect with her, no matter how hard he tried.

“Boss?”

Richie appears in the office, leaning against the door frame before noticing Carmy’s disheveled look. “Yeah?”

“You look worse than usual.”

“Thanks. What do you need?”

“Well, I was gonna ask if you ordered more eggs.”

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think Sydney did.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

It’s like Richie could see right through him.

“Nothin’. Stupid shit.”

Richie steps into the office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

“Cousin.”

Richie can be sweet when he wants to be, and when he’s got a hand on Carmy’s shoulder and a somber look in his eyes it’s like he already knows how Carmy feels.

“Why do I suck so bad at being a fuckin’ normal person?”

Richie sits next to him, a look of surprise. “Is this about Claire bear?”

“Yes, well - yeah, and also no. Kinda. I don’t know.”

“Is it about Miss Buttercream out there?”

He gestures to you outside the door, zesting some orange on top of the cake you were finishing up. Carmy stifles a laugh.

“We all know you’re porkin’ her.”

“Don’t say that,” Carmy laughs, hand coming up to his face to rub his eyes. “It’s more than that. We’ve been kinda, dating, I guess? I still don’t know what counts as having a girlfriend.”

“So what did you do?”

He gnaws at the skin of his thumb and lets his eyes flicker up to Richie’s. “Fucked it. Last night, I, uh,-“ his hand finds his warm forehead. “I really like her, like a lot. But she asked about Claire and I said the wrong thing, like I always do and uh, she didn’t like it.”

“She’s good,” Richie starts, letting his hands find his aproned thighs as he sits at the corner of the desk. “Claire was good for you too. But she didn’t… get it. Not like she does,” he gestured vaguely to your station outside the door. “Claire was never gonna get the restaurant and the kitchen and the fuck of it all.”

Richie's hand extends to cup Carmy's shoulder.

“Look, do whatever you want, but there isn’t really someone who matches you like she does. Claire’s history now, drunk phone calls don’t mean she’s still in love with you. If that’s what you were thinking.”

Carmy sits back in the creaky chair. “Nah, not that. I just don’t know how to do it right.”

“It’s not about doing it right,” Richie’s got sincerity in his eyes. “It’s about fuckin’… trying shit. Just go and make a move and see.” Carmy watches you hang up your apron on the hook and grab a hoodie before fucking outside. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Richie.”

“Good luck.”

“I’m sorry.”

Carmy’s voice takes you out of your trance as you stare into the back alley of the restaurant. “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

“You can talk, I’ll listen.”

The crackle of his lighter, orange flame against white snow. You can see his breath slipping from between his lips as he exhales out of the corner of your eye.

“I feel like a fuckin’ asshole,” he starts, plunging his other hand in his pocket. “I don’t know what to say.” A beat. “Can you look at me?” It’s gentle, a question, not a demand.

You turn to look at him. Cold blue eyes, darkened by the brightness around you. “You’re not second best to me. You’re it, this is it. I like this, I, I fuckin’,” he takes a breath, “I love… this. I want this.”

“You hurt my feelings, Carmen,” tears brimming your eyes and coating your lashes. “If you’re not done with Claire, I don’t… I don’t care. If I am your second choice, fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Even if I was. But don’t fuck me around if you don’t want me.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? You weren’t sure last night.”

“I get it if you don’t trust me. I get it. I haven’t given you a reason to.” He searches for the right words, but chooses to take a tentative step towards you. “I’ll beg for you,” he’s quiet, unlike Carmy. “Anything.”

Your eyes meet his briefly, a soft smile pulling at your lip. “I’m not saying yes, okay?” He nods. “But I am saying I would appreciate a ride home tonight. If you’re serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Good.”

The walk up to your apartment is easy. His heavy steps behind your light ones, hands sliding up the bannister as you unlock your door. He’s on your heels, a little behind. When he steps in your apartment, it’s familiar. Browned butter, vanilla, laundry.

“Do you want dinner?” He’s tentative, letting his shoes sit next to yours on the mat. His jacket goes up on the hooks by the door, together.

“Are you offering?”

“Yes.”

Carmy shows love through food, that’s how he always is. You can tell he’s feeling particularly sorry about it all because he’s bringing out a big pasta pot and a saucepan, pulling the only fresh ingredients left in your place and putting them next to the stove top. Your t-shirt finds its way into the laundry basket, an old sweater thrown over your bare skin.

You hate how normal it all feels, because it’s scary. To think of a domestic life with him, where there’s another girl lingering in the background of his thoughts that he has unfinished business with. Insecurities of who is better, prettier, happier, warmer… if he had the chance, would he leave? Would he jump ship?

He sits next to you while you eat, thighs against thighs, and comfortable silence blanketing your small apartment. He hasn’t gotten into one of the many pairs of pyjamas he’s left at your place, or taken his usual after-work shower, or taken out the frozen cookie dough to thaw. You can tell he’s not sure if he’s welcome here for good, yet.

When your food is done, he pushes the plates away and takes a calloused hand to wrap around yours. There’s sharpie marks small knife cuts on his fingers.

“Are you gonna stay the night?” You ask, still not meeting his gaze.

“Am I welcome to?” He doesn’t sound like himself, and you can feel his warm breath near the top of your head as you turn towards him. Your body collapses a little then, folding slightly at the middle to have your head fall right into the centre of his chest.

“Yes, Carmen,” you nod, letting your eyes flicker up to meet his. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

His hand slipped from yours then, sliding around your side and up your back. He pulled you into his embrace, lips wrapped around yours in a soft capture. Your hands found their way under his t-shirt, only slightly, his warm skin against the palms of your hands, pulling him impossibly closer.

And when you lay in bed with him that night, your face burrowed into the softness of his chest, you know the days of waking up alone are over.

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

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angelcakestarlet · 2 months

Text

salvatore pt 2

richie jerimovich x reader

warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.

as requested here is part two!! thank u for the support cuties <3

"hands, fuckers! i need hands table 13, someone come on!" richie's voice echos through the bustling kitchen. it was a busy saturday night, the kitchen was in the weeds, and the restaurant was full as shit. the chicago bears were playing the packers tonight which meant men, drunk men, who would camp out the entire game sitting at the bar or at a table ordering one meal for the whole night. while your apron was stained and you hadn't reapplied lipgloss in the last three hours, you took a quick peak in the mirror and concluded you still looked good enough for that 20% tip. your cheeks were flushed from running around the restaurant getting beer refills and pitchers for nearly every damn table. you should've called off, honestly.

"I got hands!" you came up behind richie. he passed you the plates with a rag beneath them, "here wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sweetheart". you smiled at him, something about richie made your stomach drop in a way that made you feel guilty. every time he spoke to you, it churned your stomach. you knew it was wrong, the whole 'older man' ordeal, you knew that you should probably feel disgusted at his little remarks towards you. but if anything, that was the cherry on top. you walk out the kitchen, feeling his eyes burning into your back. tina smacks richie's shoulder, "staring at that girl like you wanna eat her" she scoffs disapprovingly. he smirks, eyes trailing you.

"alright guys i have the italian beef sandwich, fries on the side?" you ask the men in front of you wearing their grey bear jerseys, setting it down on the table. "they got you on the side too?" one of the guys snickers, shoving his elbow into his buddy. you fake a sweet laugh, "depends, there's an upcharge for me", anything for that tip. glancing up at the clock, "two more hours to go," you sigh. and for the next two hours, the game finishes up and people start slowly leaving the restaurant. you get those who linger, collecting their betting pool winnings or reaping their loses at the bar. you start getting ready to cash out, calculating your earnings for the day when richie creeps up behind you. "how'd you do today, doll?" referring to your tips racking up on the screen, "guess" you look over your shoulder at him. his face is glowing with a sheen of sweat, rag draped over his shoulder, chain having fallen beneath his shirt, he looked good. "a girl like you? i'm gonna say you made 200 tonight." "try 350," he peers over your shoulder, he lets out a whistle and you can feel his breath blow past your ear. "they like you out here huh?" you turn around to completely face him, his face merely inches away "why wouldn't they?" he chuckles at your response. "god you've got a mouth on you" you notice his eyes pan over you, his response makes you go red. you can only feign confident for so long, his words strike you somewhere deep inside. he notices your flushed state, smiles, and makes his way back to the kitchen. when the doors close behind him you realize you've been holding your breath.

you make your way to the office to check out with carmen, "how did you do today, y/n?" he's seated in his office chair, legs spread and obviously tired. "really good, i'm really liking it here, chef. thank you for the opportunity to work here" you smile hands behind your back, "that's good to hear, you let me know if anyone gives you any type of trouble alright? including fucking cousin over there." you laugh, "trust me, everyone's been really welcoming". once you're done cashing out, you take your purse and head out. outside you find yourself two lingering drunks from the game, "where are you heading to so fast? hold on," one of the guys approaches you, you roll your eyes and continue making your way down the sidewalk. "hey, i'm fucking talking you, you too good to respond or something" you can smell the alcohol coming from his breath as he comes up to tug on your wrist. "fuck off, don't touch me!" you shrug his wrist off, "is there a fucking problem here or something?" you hear richie's scruff voice behind you. before he gets to say anything else the guy backs away from you, you turn around to see richie lifting his white shirt just above his stomach to reveal his gun. the sight gives you that familiar feeling, you almost feel a shiver down your spine. "cause I don't think we would want any problems, right?" he gets closer to you, putting a finger through your belt loop to secure you. "you're right man, we're good, we're good." the guys shuffle away almost tripping over their feet. richie tugs on your belt loop, turning you to face him, "you okay, sweetheart? what are you doing walking home at this hour, do you want to get fucking taken by some jagoff?" he put his shirt back down, covering his gun. you stay a bit stunned, "let me give you a ride, come on." you grab his wrist lightly, "thank you, richie, fuck. um fuck..." you grip your hair, about to follow him to his car you see headlights behind you. "shit um... thank you for the offer, and for helping richie. i was just already waiting on-" you hesitate catching his eye as he looks off to the car pulling over in the distance. "I was waiting on my boyfriend." you peer behind you to see him behind the wheel, he usually picks you up from work. richie nods, smirking almost "your uh boyfriend shouldn't make his girl wait for him like that, especially at night. have a good night, doll" he rubs his chin, turns and makes his way to his car. you sigh, questioning your own moment of hesitation before saying 'boyfriend'. you stare at the silhouette of his tall stature walk away, envisioning the cold gun that rests between his jeans and his stomach and bite down on your lip.

"how was work, babe?"

#richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader

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thebearer · 4 months

Text

the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching.

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to.

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.”

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning.

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware.

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught.

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in.

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.”

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you.

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him.

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it.

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways.

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier.

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date.

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-”

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-”

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.”

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent.

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.”

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.”

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly.

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-”

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.”

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder.

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other.

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.”

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese.

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly.

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it.

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful.

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming.

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze.

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-”

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly.

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly.

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

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