#and when she talked to Carmy when he was locked in the walk-in

[martian-hermit]

One of the most underrated parts of The Bear that I don’t see people talk about enough is Tina’s character development. Seeing her go from openly hostile to Sydney and dismissive of Carmy to happy accepting the position Sydney’s Sous and calling Carmy “Jeff” instead of Chef like it’s some sort of term of endearment is adorable. She really doesn’t get the love she deserves.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear appreciation post #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #tina marrero #I hated her at first but she’s so sweet now #and when she talked to Carmy when he was locked in the walk-in #absolutely perfect

[ariisheresstuff]

Raised Voice

Pairings: Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are visiting your boyfriend while he’s at work, unfortunately for you, you didn’t know Carmy wasn’t having the best day and he ends up taking it out on you and embarrassed you in front of the whole crew.

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: Yelling, cursing, and crying

MasterList

A/N: My requests are open! Have a good day! <3

“Yo cousin! Would ya stop being such a jag off for two fucking seconds?!?” Richie yelled across the kitchen to Carmen who was giving him a nasty scowl.

“Shut the fuck up Richie, I don’t have time for all your bullshit.” Carmy said with a attitude making Richie roll his eyes. Carmy ran his hand through his messy locks as he tried to take some deep breaths to calm himself down, but clearly that wasn’t working for him. Just the whole day has been shitty for him and he couldn’t figure out why. Carmen wiped the sweat from his forehead as he stormed off into his office slamming the door.

“There he goes again with one of his moods.” Sydney said as she was cleaning up her station. Richie walked passed her as he huffed.

“He’s been such a dick this whole day. Probably missing his girl or something.”

Sydney just nodded with a sigh as she continued to clean up while Richie took cover of the front of the restaurant.

You opened the door to the entrance and immediately smiled seeing Richie.

“A table for one?” You teased as Richie’s head quickly rose to the sound of your voice, he quickly smiled as he walked over to you.

“Y/N, thank the fucking lord you’re here.” Richie pulled you into a hug, you hugged him back but looked at him confused at what he meant by that.

“What do you mean?” You questioned as he lead through the kitchen to greet the others.

“Carmy is being a real jag off right now and pushing everyone down. I think he’s been having one of those days.”

You frowned at that, you really hated when Carmy was like this. It hurt you to see him so distraught. You gave Richie an apologetic smile as you apologized to everyone else.

“I’ll talk to him, I know how much of a hot head he can be. Especially when he’s like this.” You teased making Richie snort.

Richie gave you a quick “thank you” as he rubbed your shoulder, you gave him a soft smile before taking in a sigh and walking up to Carmy’s office door. You lifted your fist and hesitated with knocking. You took a deep breath before knocking.

“Who the fuck is it?” Carmy snarled back making you wince slightly.

“It’s me babe, Y/N.” You said with a soft tone trying not to anger him more. You heard him moving before the door opened swiftly. You looked up at your boyfriend who had the most nastiest frown on his face.

“Why are you here?” He said with attitude making you frown a bit.

“I came to see you, until Richie told me you weren’t having the best day. What’s wrong?” You asked as you raised a hand to cup his face. Softly stroking his cheek with your thumb to calm him down. You gasped softly as he immediately slapped your hand away.

“I don’t need to tell you every single fucking thing, okay?!? So stop pestering me all the damn time! It’s annoying as fuck and it’s keeping me down with work. Don’t bother me anymore I’m tired of your bullshit. Leave now, I’m dead ass serious Y/N. I’m tired of you!!!”

You flinched back as your eyes widened. Carmen just yelled at you. Like really yelled at you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You felt your throat tighten as fat tears clouded your vision. You didn’t even hear the others coming in asking what the hell just happened. You just stared at Carmy with the most heartbreaking face. You realized his facial expressions changed quickly from looking at the tears falling down your face. Before he could say anything, he heard Richie’s voice.

“What the fuck just happened here?!?” Richie roared as he stared at Carmen before looking at you. Tina pulled you into her arms as she shushed your cries bringing you outside with Sydney.

“Why the fuck would you yell at her cousin?!? She did nothing to you. I asked her to check on you and you yell at her? Now you’re a real jagoff for that cousin. That wasn’t cool.” Richie shook his head in disappointment. He turned away as he went outside to calm you down with the others.

Carmen just stood there as he processed what he just did. He fucking yelled at you. His girl, the love of his life. He yelled at you and made you cry.

“Fuck.” He said with a crack in his voice before punching the door in anger. “Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you Carmen?!? Get your fucking shit together!” He yelled at himself as he sat back down on his chair. Running his hands through his hair in frustration. He took a few deep breaths like you taught him to calm down. He cleared his throat before standing up. He took one big deep breath and exhaling before walking to the entrance to find you.

“I-I can’t believe he j-just yelled at me.” You sobbed into Tina’s chest as she rubbed your back.

“It’s okay mama, that’s just Jeff being an asshole. I know for sure he is regretting yelling at you like that.”

You hiccuped as you turned your head to look at Richie. He shook his head as he came by you and rubbed your back with Tina.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Carmy knows better. Little asshole. He especially should not be disrespectful like that towards you. His girl. Such a fucking jagoff.”

You wiped away you tears as you gave Richie a frown. “A-all I was doing was m-making sure he was o-okay.” You said with a whimper as you felt more tears fall.

Richie and Sydney were about to say something before the door opened and everyone turned their heads to stare at Carmen. Everyone gave him a look making him look down at the ground. He especially refused to look at your broken self.

“I-I I need to talk to Y/N. Alone.” He said as he looked at Richie who gave him a frown.

Richie nodded his head to the door, signaling everyone to go inside and to give Carmen and you some private time. Tina kissed your temple making you smile a bit, Sydney squeezed your hand and gave a soft smile, and Richie patted your shoulder as he nodded at you. Everyone left leaving you and Carmen alone.

You looked down at your feet refusing to look into his eyes, you didn’t even realize Carmen walked in front of you, now closer to you. He softly cupped your face making your head lift up. You had no choice but to look into his blue eyes that had sorrow in them. You felt more tears burning in your eyes. Your lip trembling. He quickly wiped the tears falling down your cheeks.

“Baby… I’m so, so, so sorry for yelling at you like that. That was such a fucking dick move of me. I should’ve never taken my anger out on you. I was just having a bad day and I know that shouldn’t be an excuse for my behaviors towards you. I just want you to know that I really love you and that I really am sorry for yelling and embarrassing you like that in front of everyone. I will never let that happen again and I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

You hiccuped as you tried to talk but the sobs just came out that you were holding in. Carmy quickly pulled you into his arms. Comforting you like the good boyfriend he is.

“It’s okay baby. I’m so sorry, I never wanna be the reason for your tears. I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.” Carmy kissed your head repeatedly as you wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled into his chest.

“I’m sorry you h-had a bad day Carmy.” You whispered as your tears startled to settle down. You looked up at him as he gave you a sad smile at the tear stains you had on your cheeks. He cupped your face again as he leaned down to leave a long kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the touch.

“Don’t be sorry, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who should be sorry. You were just looking out for me and that’s what I love about you. You always makes sure I’m okay and that shows how caring you are babe. I swear I didn’t mean any of that shit. Please forgive me. Please.” Carmy whispered as he pulled your face in closer to his. Your noses touching lightly and feeling each other’s soft breaths. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you gave him a smile.

“I forgive you Carmy. But the next time you pull some shit like that again I’m gonna cut your dick off and make you eat it.” You playfully said making Carmen snort.

“I definitely don’t want that to happen. I’ll be 100% sure that I won’t pull that again on you. Never ever.” Carmen said softly with a smile as he leaned closer.

You leaned closer to feeling his lips softly touch yours. You both leaned into the kiss as you enjoyed the moment. You sighed happily while Carmen cupped your face to bring you closer to him. Completely forgetting you were outside in public.

“I love you so much Y/N, I hope you know that.” Carmen said between your lips

You giggled, “And I love you more Carmy. I always will love you.”

At that you two began to kiss more passionately. You two didn’t even notice that the crew was watching you guys the whole time through the window smiling.

“There they go sucking faces again. Jesus fucking christ! They always go at it.” Richie said as he faked gagged.

Tina smacked Richie on his arm giving him a stern look “You’re just mad because you don’t have what they have.”

“Damn!!!! Richie you just got burned!” Marcus said while Sydney and him started to cackle in the back.

Richie gave Tina an offended look making Tina chuckle.

“Man, fuck you guys!” Richie flipped them off as he pouted while they continued to laugh at him.

They didn’t even notice the two of you walking back into the restaurant hand in hand. They turned to look at the two of you.

“So, y’all made up?” Sydney said with her arms crossed.

“Yup all good, told him to never pull that shit again or I’m cutting his dick off.”

Richie choked on his soda that he was drinking before laughing out the soda. Carmen just rolled his eyes as Richie began to tease him. As long as the two of you were okay, he was okay.

Tag-List: @otomefan @chunnies @slasherstories123 @avengersfan25 @th3h0nkz

#the bear #the bear series #the bear Hulu #the bear s1 #the bear s2 #Carmen Berzatto #Jeremy Allen White #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x y/n #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto angst #richie the bear #sydney the bear #carmy and sydney #carmy x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x y/n

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii congrats on 5k!! i love your writing ! if you’re still celebrating could i request a carmy blurb where maybe you’re syd’s besite and carmy has this biggggest crush on you (im talking this mf is Yearning) and she gets on him sooo hard about it like teasing him and reader and him end up together ? TIA <3

Not So Secret.

carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing.

written for my 5k celebration- post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“You’re gonna stare a hole through her fuckin’ head.”

“Shut up.”

Richie laughs, following Carmens eyeline to where it’s fixed on you.

You’re stood in the restaurant with Sydney, both of you giggling at something she’s showing you on her phone. When you look up, you smile at Carmy, all soft and sweet and like butter wouldn’t melt. He almost melts, a puddle of yearning on the kitchen floor.

Sugar appears next to the two of you, holding out a piece of paper.

“This is a really rough draft of what we kind of want them to look like. Obviously you have full control, but this is kind of the vibe?”

When Carmen mentioned wanting a more personal touch on the menus, Sydney quickly offered your services. You’re the most artistic person she knows, gifted with naturally gorgeous handwriting that almost looks like calligraphy. Plus, she knows how much everyone at The Bear likes you, having been a part of their transformation. It’s a win - win.

“Yeah, I get you. So you want the title words like Dessert in more of a cursive, and then the actual dishes and descriptions in a typeface?”

“Yes! Do your thing. We trust you.”

She gives you a side hug, careful not to hit you with her bump.

“I’m gonna need some nice paper, and probably a new calligraphy pen so I can start from scratch. I’m gonna head to the craft store, and I’ll be back.”

“Carmy will go with you!”

Richie shouts it from the doorway, where he’s been not so subtly watching the conversation. Carmy blushes, clearly caught off guard.

“He needs to go to the craft store too, right Cousin? Good. Go. Bye!”

Carmy’s practically being pushed out the door, uncomfortable and flustered. You smile reassuringly, grabbing your bag and walking over to your car.

“You’re okay with me driving?”

“Course. Shouldn’t I be?”

You laugh, and he can’t help but grin, the sound settling nicely into his ribcage to warm him up.

“I’m a good driver, I promise. Despite what Sydney might say.”

He looks worried but gets in anyway, ever trusting you and anything you do.

He can’t help but sneak glances at you as you drive. You’re completely focused on the road in front, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Carmy feels heat bloom across his chest at the action, wishing he could reach out and release it for you before you draw blood.

A text chimes through the air, startling you both. You press the button on your steering wheel so your car can read the message out loud.

From Sydney: Carmy. Tell her immediately or I’ll lock you in the walk in freezer. Sick of you acting like a lovesick puppy. This is your chance. Don’t blow it, asshole. We’re all tired.

Both of you freeze, your hands tightening on the wheel. Carmy wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but decides against it at the last minute.

You pull the car into the craft store parking lot, choosing a space and yanking the handbrake on. You turn to him, looking at him for the first time since the bombshell.

He’s blushed all over, chest heaving and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You almost want to reach out and release it for him, before he draws blood.

“Carmy.”

“I think, uh, yeah, I just - that was clearly sent to the wrong person. Not meant for you.”

You laugh, suddenly, and it spooks Carmy so much that he jumps out of his skin.

“Yeah, Carm. That I figured.”

He laughs with you then, unsure and nervous. You reach out and place a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. It just makes his heart lurch.

“What’s Syd talking about? Tell me what?”

He looks down at his lap, hands knotted together.

“I think you know.”

“Wanna hear you say it,” you whisper.

He finds the courage to meet your gaze, taking a deep breath.

“I like you. So much. I can’t stop talking about you to anyone and everyone that’ll listen - to the point that everyone at The Bear gives me so much shit for it. Sydney won’t get off my back, either. She says I’m ‘yearning’.”

You chuckle, rubbing patterns into the material of his jeans with your thumb.

“They’ve all made bets,” he continues, “about if I’ll ever tell you or not.”

“Who bet on you? And who against?”

“Syd and Richie against me. Marcus too. Tina and Sugar are on my side. Not sure why.”

“Wanna make Tina and Sugar some money?”

He quirks a brow questioningly, eyes going wide when you lean over the centre console and plant your hands on either side of his face. You’re so close to him that your breaths tangle together, one set of lungs working overtime.

“Kiss me, Carm.”

He doesn’t think twice, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His hands find your back, tugging you into him as much as the limited space allows.

You whine when he bites at your lip gently, and he has to pull away to take a steadying breath before he passes out.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

He tries to process for a moment.

“Huh?”

“You must be blind if you can’t see how much I like you, Carm. How much I’ve always liked you.”

He grins at you, bright and white, and you shake your head before leaning in to kiss him again.

When you don’t make it back into the restaurant that day, everyone has never been happier to not see the both you.

#murphy’s 5k celebration #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fluff #the bear smut #the bear x y/n #the bear x reader #the bear x you

[idunnoanymore7]

Freezer

Description: If you get locked in the walk-in freezer with your hot boss, you need to warm up somehow.

Content: carmy x reader (no use of y/n), injury(cut finger) and mention of blood, sort of enemies to lovers, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, use of pet names

Author’s Note: I need him IN MY BONES. i wrote this before watching the ep when this happens LOL. also i love feedback if you want to leave it! <3

——————————————————

It started as a normal day of work-as in Carmy was yelling, Richie was an asshole, and Sydney was solving everything.

It ended up being an intense day for an unofficial kitchen assistant. There was a large rush of customers at lunch, leaving Carmy’s veins to protrude as he yelled at everyone to make more food. 

“50 more beef, 20 veggie, 16 everything chefs!”

“Heard, chef!” The kitchen chorused back. 

He called your name.

“Yes, chef?” 

“I need the two slabs of beef left in the fridge, and then you need to go drive and get more.”

“Heard, chef,” you say, writing the instructions down quickly on your notepad.

Carmy was already gone, at his station picking up the pound of beef. You stared as his bicep curved out, his hand flexed and gripped the bag. You were interrupted by-

“Chef! I need those tomatoes!” Sydney said. “They have to be in the pot in 5!”

Fuck-the tomatoes you were chopping for Sydney’s sauce before this meeting started. 

“Yes chef!” 

“And we’re talking about whatever that was later!” she said. You tense as you realize she saw you gawking.

“Syyyyd!” You whine. She grins.

“Get to work!” Carmy hollers from around a corner, and you dash back to the sink.

You had finished half of the ten tomatoes sydney requested. You picked up the knife and got to work on the 6th of the bunch.

You were mindlessly chopping for maybe a minute before someone slammed into your back, knocking you forward and causing you to slice your finger.

“Fuck!” you gasped. You whirled around to see who it was. “Say behind!”

Of course. Richie. He looked down at you  and his lip curled. 

“Not my fault! Pay more attention next time.”

He stalked off, rolling his eyes. 

Whatever, you didn’t have time for this. Luckily no blood got on the tomatoes, so you wrapped the cut in paper towel and got back to work careful to keep that finger away from the food. You slid the cut up food into a bowl and carried it to Sydney, placing it next to her.

“Thanks, chef,” she said, checking the tomatoes.

“Of course, chef.”

“Whoa, you good?” she said, noticing your finger. 

“Yeah, I’ll fix it after I finish,” you said.

“Okay..” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Be careful.”

“I will, chef!” You say, already heading to the freezer. “Corner!”

You reached the freezer and pulled open the door to slip inside, looking for the beef Carmy had asked for.

“Ah!” You jumped, shoulder blade hitting the metal shelf. Carmy startled from the racks he was leaning on. 

“What the fuck?” He leaned on the door to steady himself; pushing it closed. 

“Fuck-sorry chef,” You said quickly. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Clearly,” he groaned, tipping his head back against the shelf. You could feel the shame burning up your chest and sternum. 

“Just get your stuff and go, okay?” 

You nodded and leaned over, right hand on the metal coils as you looked for the beef on the bottom shelf.

“It’s right there,” he said angrily, gesturing to the slab. Great day so far. You cut yourself and now your workplace crush was yelling at you. Like you could focus when he was right there. You could feel his body heat.

You gripped the plastic and lifted the meat into the crook of your left arm. Hefting it up, you turned and reached for the door handle, avoiding eye contact with Carmy. 

You pulled the handle. Nothing happened. What?

You tried again. Still nothing more than a slight jiggle, and the door didn’t budge. 

“What the fuck?” You mumbled.

“Let me try,” he said, moving into your space. His wide shoulders brushed against you, reminding you of all that manliness and what you wanted it to do to you.

You stepped back, the weight of the beef (and your attraction to Carmy) already starting to burn. You switched arms as he yanked hard on the handle, bicep and shoulder muscles flexing. He added his other hand and pulled down and back. Nothing.

This could not be happening. You can’t be stuck in here with Carmy. He’ll eat you alive, and not in the way you wanted. You couldn’t stand the thought of the cause of that twist in your gut hating you.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the door. “Richie! Syd!”

You both knew the door was metal, several inches thick. They’d have to be close to hear him. 

You gasped and set the beef back so you could curl your arms around yourself. Carmy whirled around.

“You fucking locked us in here!” he said, pointing at you.

“Me?!” You yelled back. “It’s not my fault the door jammed!”

“Yes it is!” he fired back. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t come in here!”

“I was getting the fucking beef you asked me for!” You screamed back.

He was about to respond when you heard muffled voices outside. 

“Syd!” You called out.

“Cousin!” He yelled at the same time.

“What’re you guys doing in there?” you hear Sydney say through the door. 

“The fucking door won’t open!” Carmy exclaimed. “Get us out!”

The handle shook, then shook more violently.

“I think it’s jammed!” came Richie’s yell.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble.

Carmy looks at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back. “So can you fix it?”

“Um, not sure,” came his cousin’s reply. “I think we need to get Fak…”

“Fuck!” Carmy exclaimed louder, pushing his tattooed hands through his hair. “It’s lunch rush! I cant be stuck in here!”

“I’d also like to be outside!” You add.

“It’s okay chef,” Sydney’s voice responds. “I’ll keep us on task while Richie works to get you out. We won’t fall behind.”

“I got this, cousin!” Richie says.

Carmy sighs and leans his head against the freezer door, resting his hands on it.

“Good, chef. You’ll have a limited menu since our meat is in here.”

“On it Chef. We were due for a shipment anyway.”

“Thank you chef. An-“

Sydney cuts him off saying your name. “Just breathe, okay? We’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Syd,” you reply, feeling grateful for her ability to take charge.

“Oh! And I’ll slip a bandage under the door!”

“Ahhh thank you,” You respond with relief, looking down at the paper towel that was almost completely red.

That caught Carmy’s attention. His head whipped around to look at you as her footsteps pattered away.

“You good?”

You looked at him in surprise. “Yeah…just cut my finger.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You have to be careful. We can’t be losing manpower.”

You glared. “Richie slammed into me. My carefulness didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Here you go,” Syd said as she slid the bandaid under the door. “Fak will be here in an hour or so.”

“What?” you exclaim at the same time.

“Apparently he likes to go to a specific movie theater an hour away. I don’t fucking know.” 

You groan along with Carmy.

You slid down to sit on the cement floor and set about trying to open the bandage, but hissed when it slid across your cut. 

Carmy sighed. “Let me help you with that.”

“I got it, thanks. Isn’t it because I wasn’t careful enough, anyway?” You say.

“You can’t blame me for trying to keep the restaurant running.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Just let me do it.”

Carmy lowered himself to the floor, leaning back on his haunches. The image of this larger-than-life man on his knees for you made you slow, handing over the bandage.

He took it and began to unwrap. 

“I know you’re careful,” he says into his hands.

“Huh?” you ask in surprise.

He looks up at you, those beautiful blue eyes upping your heart rate. “I know you’re careful. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Oh fuck. New reason why you couldn’t stay in here. You were gonna fall in love with him.

The praise makes you smile, and his face seems to lighten at that. “Thanks,” you say. “I assume it helps my case that Richie has a reputation for being not careful.”

He huffs a smile. “Maybe a bit.” He reaches his hand out gently. Seeing the veins and tattoos on the backs of his hands were not helping your heartbeat. Your nerves shake as he takes your hand and undoes the paper towel with the other. 

His face hardens and you look to see why. The gash was deeper than you realized, but nothing new to kitchen staff.

“Fuckin’ Richie,” Carmy grumbles angrily.

“It’s fine,” you say reassuringly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He makes eye contact again. “You shouldn’t have to. Not in my kitchen.”

Your lips part in surprise, and you think you catch him looking at them a beat too long before returning to your hand. The fact that such talented, skilled hands were working on your little cut was wild to you. 

A curl fell in his face, and you had to resist the urge to push it back for him. He was finishing up the bandage, and your mind screamed keep him over here.

“How are we gonna keep from freezing to death in here?” You ask, half joking. 

He moves back to lean against the shelves on the opposite wall, legs crossed at the ankle. You immediately feel the absence of his hands on you. 

He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

“All that means is you won’t notice when the hypothermia kicks in.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “That cannot be true.”

“Yeah, I have no idea.” You respond, stretching your legs out so they’re parallel to his.

He chuckles, louder than you thought he would. 

“How is the job so far?” He asks.

“Good,” you say. “Better than a lot of kitchens. Except when I have to sit in a freezer with my boss.” You nudge his knee with yours. 

“C’mon, is he really that bad?” Carmy teases.

You think for a minute. “No, honestly. He’s pretty fantastic at everything he does. In appearance, too. I don’t know how he keeps those white shirts so clean.”

“I meant to be in a freezer with,” Carmy responds. There’s a shameful beat.

“I-“

“I’m just messing with you,” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, still embarrassed for your lovey rant.

“I look fantastic, huh?” 

You squirm. “I didn’t mean it like that-“

“How did you mean it then? Don’t hurt my feelings.”

“Can they be hurt?” You ponder. “I’m sure many women have told you similarly.”

He shakes his head. “That’s probably the only personal compliment I’ve gotten in years. They’ve all been about my cooking.” His face is a bit pink now.

You rub your arms, the goosebumps a combination of the freezer and Carmy’s gaze on you. Speaking of, his eyes follow the movement of your arms and his jaw ticks.

“That’s almost unbelievable to me,” You begin. “That no one tells you you look good.”

“Do people tell you that?” He asks.

“Sometimes, I suppose,” You say. “When I look nicer than this.” You gesture down at yourself.

“You still look nice,” He says gravelly, crossing his arms over his chest. You have to tear your eyes away from his forearms to respond. 

“Thanks, so do you,” You say lightly, hoping it’s not obvious how much you mean it.

You can tell from his eyes he sees through you, though. 

“I know you think so,” He says lowly.

“Oh yeah?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah,” he almost groans. “The way you look at me when I cook-it’s so distracting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper. 

“Yes you do,” he says, eyes hard. “But you’re so focused, and careful, that you never see when I’m looking the same way at you.”

You swallow hard. There was no way this was real. Carmy being into you? Impossible.

“Yeah, right,” You respond.

His jaw ticks. “What, you don’t think that’s true?”

“Carmy, look at you. Then look at me. Of course I don’t think that’s true.” You shake.

He pushes his hands through his curls again. His shirt rises up an inch when he does, and you can’t help but glance at the bit of happy trail-

“See,” He groans. “I cant think straight around you. Especially when you look at me like that. Like I’m worth your attention.”

“Of course you are, Chef,” you say, looking into his eyes as your voice went lower. 

The name seemed to do him in. His frazzled look shifted to feral, eyes bright and hair in every direction. 

“You never answered my question,” You said lowly.

“What question?”

“How are we gonna stay warm in here?” You say, tone suggesting there was more to what you were saying. “Because I can think of a few ideas…”

“Oh, so can I,” He said gravelly, dragging his eyes down your body as you rose up on your knees. “All of them require you getting over here.” he said.

Didn’t have to tell you twice. He uncrossed his legs, his perfect thighs framing a seat for you. Before you could sit, his large hands crept onto your back, grasping you as he put his face onto your belly.

“Is this okay?” He asked, tone serious.

“Yes, yes,” you almost whine, hands reaching the back of his head. 

When you run your fingers through your hair like you’d been dreaming about, he groans.

This giant, muscled man groans into your stomach. You feel like jelly. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

You had heard about his nonexistent dating history. But you didn’t care. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” You say, looking down at him.

“No,” he groans, looking up at you, the angle of his eyes and his hands gripping you making you even wetter. “I want.”

You gasp and that reaction seems to spur him on. He slides his hands down your thighs and pulls you into his lap.

You groan quietly as you feel his cock through his pants, already hardening just from you being close. You couldn’t believe it. 

“You feel that? What you do to me?” He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You think it’s true now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you gasp. “Wanna feel what you do to me?”

He groans in your ear. “Oh, we’ll get there.”

Then, he kisses you. And not a polite one. He kisses you like you’re a new recipe he made: new and delicious and ready to be devoured whole.

You moan and his grip on your shirt tightens like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. You tug on his hair and your hips involuntarily buck against him. 

He pulls back and moves his mouth to your neck. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I could-“ His teeth scrape your neck. “I could say the same thing about you.”

His hands grasp your face and kiss you again, holding you and taking you. 

You reach your hands for the hem of his shirt, needing something to ground you with the heat running through your body. As soon as you reach your hands underneath his shirt and scrape your nails up, he seems to go haywire.

His hands grip anywhere they can reach, your back, your hips, your shoulders, your hair. Not quite where you want him.

You pull back and he looks worried. But that look dissipates when you reach for the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“Oh…pretty girl…” he mumbles, hands sliding up from your hips and across your stomach. 

You smile and reach your arms to the back of your bra.

“You want this off too?” You ask.

“Yes, oh god, please-“

Your thighs try to squeeze together from his desperation, but his hips are in the way and he notices. 

“You like that baby? You like when I beg?” 

You whimper. Oh god. And he heard it.

“I can do that, pretty girl, I can beg,” He says, his blue eyes in yours.

“Fuck, Carmy-“ You groan.

His hands move up, sliding seductively up your skin. “Can I take it off baby? Want it to be me that gets to undress you.”

“Yeah, you can,” You nod, unable to form sentences. He was gonna kill you.

He undoes the clasp on the first try, and his eyes get wider as the bra falls away. Your nipples turn into points from the cold freezer.

“Ohhh pretty girl, look at these,” he says in fascination, running his thumbs over your peaks.

The rough skin against you makes you moan, head falling back as he grasps your tits in his hands.

“So, so pretty,” he says, and then he scrapes his teeth against them. You gasp, as he continues to suck and bite at your breasts. “Wanna hold ‘em every day-“

“Fuck-so glad you like them Carmy,” you groan. “Please, please can you take this off?”

You grasp at his shirt. “Of course, baby,” he says, hair even crazier than normal from your tugging. He helps you lift it up and over his head.

“Oh, god,” you say, eyes widening as you finally see him in his full glory. Seeing his defined biceps next to his pecs and happy trail might knock you out cold. “Oh Carmy you are fantastic.”

That makes him laugh, and you grab his neck to kiss him again, and he moans into your mouth. Your other hand runs down his chest, dragging along the waistband. His hands grasped your boobs, and it felt better than you thought it would.

His desperation and muscle was making you soaked. You needed him to touch you. 

“Carm-“ You squirm in his lap, looking for friction. 

“I know, baby, I got you,” he says. “C’mere.” 

He holds you into him with one arm, and you bite at his shoulder as he looks for the shirts on the hard ground, making a makeshift pillow for you. 

He lays you back, and you watch him as he slowly kisses and nicks his way down your body, getting more teethy and possessive as he gets lower.

He reaches the waistband of your pants, and looks up at you for assurance. You look at the door nervously, and he catches it.

“I’m not gonna let anyone see you,” He says. “This is for me,” he grabs your ass. “Understand?”

You nod desperately and wiggle your hips.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Heard, chef,” you tease, and he tsks at you, smirking.

He pulls your pants down and over your ankles, adjusting himself to breathe over your thighs.

You inhale sharply as the cold hits your legs, goosebumps forming. Carmy’s hands soothe you, running up your thighs slowly.

He rubs his thumb over the wet spot on your underwear and looks up at you. “All this for me?”

“Told you you’d feel what you do to me.” you say.

“Ugh, pretty girl, you’re gonna kill me.” he groans into your thigh, biting down and you whimper. 

“Please, Carm, don’t tease-“

He pulls your underwear down in one swift motion, looking at you for reassurance before pulling your thighs over his shoulders and diving into his meal.

You can’t help your load moan as he licks a stripe all the way up your folds, circling your clit when he gets there. 

Your hands twist into his hair but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his hands clamp harder into your thighs as your taste spurs him on.

“Fuck,” His nose- that perfect nose- rubs your clit over and over and you almost squeal just from the visual: his tattooed hands on your thighs, his curls in your fingers, his blue eyes looking straight into yours.

He pushes his tongue into you and your hips buck as you moan when he curls it up. The absence of it inside you makes you whimper, until his middle finger enters you and you really do squeal.

“Carmy- ah-“

“Yeah, baby, lemme hear you.”

He curls his finger and hits that spongey spot inside you, making your hips buck again. His eyes look scoldingly at you before he removes his right hand and presses down on your lower stomach. 

“Shit-!” Your head lolls back. “That’s a nice trick, Chef-“ You can feel him smirk.

The pressure makes the finger pumping inside you pleasing in a whole new way. Still sucking on your clit, Carmy curls another finger inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-“

“I got you, c’mon, come for me, wanna see you come all over my fingers,” Carmy says desperately, and you listen, snapping loose and releasing all over him. 

Your boss made you cum. Hard. Did you need to call HR? 

Nope. All you needed was to see him rising back over you, kissing up your stomach and over your breasts. 

His mouth was covered in your wet, and you grabbed his jaw hard to kiss him, your tongue in his mouth to taste yourself on him.

“Fantastic?” He asks.

“Fantastic.” you respond, meaning it. “Let’s hope Fak gets stuck in traffic,” you whisper into his lips. 

“Why?” he responds, teasing. You slide your hand down his chest and over his ass.

“Because I want you inside me,” you say. He moans and kisses you again, hard, whilst reaching for the fly on his jeans. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” he smiles into your lips. “Hands, chef, hands.”

You giggle and go to help him pull his pants down his legs and over his feet, kissing his jaw. You run your fingers over the happy trail you had been ogling, and grasp his cock over his boxers. He grunts in your ear, and takes your hand away. 

“Gonna come too fast,” he says, holding your hand above your head and kissing you.  “You make me crazy.”

“Same here, Carm.” You say, nipping at his neck. Your other hand teases at the waistline of his boxers.

He looks into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes, Carmy, fuck, please.”

“Good.” He says, tugging his boxers down and you finally get to see him in all his glory. God, you didn’t think he could get more beautiful. Seeing him entirely naked sent another wave of wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, Carmy,” you mumble. He slid his hands up the outside of your thighs, keeping his eyes locked on yours. 

“All for you, baby,” his hand goes to his cock, and as the head slides inside you your head lolls back and groan.

“Hey, look at me.” You look back up to stare into his icy eyes. “Don’t stop.” He says.

He slides further into you and your jaw hangs open, trying so hard to keep eye contact with him.

You both groan as he bottoms out, every vein and ridge of him inside of you. Your pussy is still sensitive from the previous mind-blowing orgasm, and-

“God, pretty girl, you feel so good,” he groans in your ear. “Taking me so well.”

You pulse at the praise, and he feels it. You feel his smirk on your jaw. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, your nails find purchase on his back.

He rolls into you, and it has your thighs squeezing around his hips immediately. 

“Shit, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, Carmy, feels so good,” you moan as he starts his rhythm, every ridge of his cock dragging inside your walls. The cold of the freezer vanishing against the hotness of your bodies.

His forearm is on the floor next your head, his other hand grasping your ass as he pummels into you. 

Your back scrapes on the floor, to match the marks you’re making on Carmy’s back. 

“Look so good with me inside you,” he grunts and you choke. His hand on your ass moves between your thighs and he circles your clit.

“Fuck- too much,” you gasp, clit sensitive. 

“You can take it.”

“Ah- Car- I’m gonna-“

“Me too, pretty girl, cmon-“ The nickname gets you every time, and you gush over him, squeezing around his cock.

He makes a choked sound and falls over the ledge after you, collapsing on top of your chest. 

You both breathe heavily, you rubbing up and down his back.

“That might have been more fantastic than your cooking,” You smile to the ceiling. He chuckles into your neck.

“Heard, chef.”

You were both dressed by the time Fak finally arrived, half an hour late complaining about unmissable after-credit scenes. 

Parting, you had gained a cell phone number and an address from Carmy, a kiss goodbye, and a “see you later” that promised many more. 

#carmy berzatto smut #the bear #the bear smut #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto x reader smjt #the bear x reader #shameless #shameless smut

[cillian-gets-me-wetter]

casual - carmy berzatto x fem!reader

prompt: “he hasn’t got his eyes on anybody else, you know? ..hmm? but it’s hard for that bastard to take his eyes off of you.” by @urfriendlywriter

a/n: this is going to be a two part story so buckle your seatbelts for this one. takes place during season 2, was inspired by this edit i saw recently! i literally have been jeremy allen white girly since shameless so i’m glad he’s getting his flowers and writing anything about his characters is a personal favorite of mine :))

part 2: “silver springs” out now!

warnings: reader and carmy are on their fwb shit, 18+ only??, mentions of smoking, claire (my apologies, ms. girl 😭), cameos from richie and syd, smutty??, kissing, co-workers to fwb to lovers, slow burn, angst

summary: you were hired as a cashier and server at the beef and sometimes helped out in the kitchen whenever no one was in the front of the house. a few months after working there, you struck up a friends with benefits arrangement with the new owner, carmy berzatto. while your connection was supposed to be strictly casual, he starts seeing a girl he knew from childhood, claire, which breaks your heart.

disclaimer: i do not own any characters mentioned in this story. this is for fictional purposes only. do not copy or claim my work as your own. comments, reblogs and constructive feedback are appreciated!!

here are resources for supporting palestine and gaza 🇵🇸

masterlist

knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?

you’ve been working at the beef for over six months now after the new owner, carmy berzatto hired you after reviewing your application for the job and the interview process. you looked him up not long after, discovering that he’s an michelin star chef so of course, you knew you had high expectations to uphold.

the first month working there, you worked in the back of the house alongside him, his cousin named richie as well as other people they hired on to work with them to revive the failing restaurant. you were used to working in fast paced environments as you had previously worked in a couple of local restaurants throughout chicago.

then eventually you move up to the front of the house, taking people’s orders and making sure everything is in good shape and you were able to have your friend, jules, who you attended a few college classes with.

you quickly scribble down the order for the customer at the booth near the register as you hear the bell behind you ping, indicating the food for the other customers in the restaurant is ready. you asked the man, “will that complete your order, sir?” he nodded as he looked over the menu, “yeah that’ll be all, thank you so much.” you smiled politely, “of course, i’ll come back and refill your drink for you.”

you walk over behind the counter, grabbing the two plates off of the shelf. then you bring them to the customers who are sitting in the next booth over when jules comes in for her shift, politely smiling at you before walking to the back. you go back to the previous man you were serving and get him a refill as she walks back out in her apron.

you go up to her, “hey, i’m going to go on my break. can you cover these tables for me?” she nodded, “yeah, sure. don’t have too much fun.” she walked over to see if the man was ready to order as you walked into the kitchen, taking in the chaos as everyone is at their stations making sure all the food is up to standard before sending the food out.

you make eye contact with carmy as he’s talking with marcus about something as you walk closer to the back, sneaking into his office to wait for him. unbeknownst to everyone except jules, syd and richie, you and carmy were hooking up. sometimes you would spend the night at each other’s places and have quickies whenever you both had the opportunity.

it wasn’t long until he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. you sat on his desk as he walked up to you, parting your legs as he stood between them. he wore his usual white shirt and blue apron, your fingers trailing down his muscular biceps. you traced the tattoos on his hands as you stared up at him with lust filled eyes.

he sighed, “fuck, you can’t look at me like that.” he felt his cock throb in his pants as you wrapped your leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. he quickly reached behind him, untying the apron and throwing it to the floor. you grinded against his clothed erection slowly, making him shudder as you smile and lick your lips at his reaction.

you whisper seductively, “and what are you going to do about it?” he shook his head, “oh, you have no idea.” you suddenly grabbed a fistful of his shirt, his lips roughly slamming against yours. your hands released the hold on him as one hand instinctively ran through his curly, golden brown hair.

his cold hands wandered under your shirt, groping over your bra, making you mewl as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. you let out a moan into the kiss as his hands then lifted your shirt up so he can get a good look at your tits when his phone dings. he ignores it as he grasps the straps of your bra, pulling both down to reveal them.

the cold air hits you, making your nipples hard as he groped and kneaded them. you whimpered underneath him melting into his touch as his phone goes off again. he stops touching you, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing a quick reply to whoever texted. you pulled your bra straps up as you felt the moment was over and moved your shirt back down.

he quickly put his phone down on his desk, the phone screen facing you as he leaned down, whispering in your ear. “i’m sorry about that.” you whispered back, “it’s okay.” he leaves kisses down your jaw and moves to your neck, making you moan softly. you felt the vibration of his phone against the desk, taking a quick glance since he wasn’t paying attention.

you simply saw the name: “claire” and the text said, “on my way.” you were quickly pulled away from your thoughts as an urgent knock on the door brought you both back to reality. he scoffed and yelled out, “i’m on my break, what do you want?” tina’s voice projected through the door, “chef, we need you here for a second.” you pouted as he left a few soft kisses on your neck before pulling away from you.

you asked, “did you want to come over tonight?” he grabbed his apron off of the floor and tossed it to the side and pulling out a extra one he kept in the cabinet. he shook his head, “i can’t tonight. how about this weekend?” you nodded as you got off his desk, “that’s fine with me.” he smiled at you, “good. i’ll see you later.” he kissed your lips sweetly before walking back to the kitchen.

you smiled to yourself at the fact he would always kiss you whenever he had to leave somewhere, even if it’s back to the kitchen. you snuck out of his office, as your thoughts flooded with how much you truly feel him. the only person who knows about your feelings for carmy was richie after he walked in on you and him fucking in his office.

you walked out into the night as you stayed in late to help prep for the next day. you pulled a cigarette you always kept in your apron pocket out of convenience. you sat on one of the crates as you ignited the lighter with your thumb, holding it towards the butt end and spark it.

you take a long drag, feeling your nerves settle down after the long day you had. you hear the door open and look over seeing richie walk out, closing the door behind him. he walks over, standing not too far away as you exhale the smoke out of your mouth. you hold up the cigarette to him as he accepts it, taking his own drag.

he exhales the smoke into the air before handing it back to you. he asked, “so, how long have you been sleeping with my cousin?” you blinked at the sudden boldness of the question as you try to figure out what to say. you stammered, “uh.. for like two months now…” he nodded as you saw him mentally do the math of how long this had been going on under his nose.

you both sat in silence as you passed the cigarette back and forth. when the cigarette was done, you flicked it over to the ground next to you before stepping on it. he started to make his way back into the restaurant but stopped to look at you, “he hasn’t gotten his eyes on anyone else, you know?”

you looked at him, “..hmm?” you heard what he said but it wasn’t something you could wrap your head around. he continued, “but something i do know is that it’s hard for that bastard to take his eyes off of you.”

you walk back to the front of the house and catch up with jules on the tables that need to be taken care of. she lets you know the orders for the people who have ordered their food while pointing out those who just came in.

as you start catching up on what you missed during your “break”, a woman who looks about your age walks in. she had brown hair and wore medical scrubs. she walked over and asked, “excuse me? do you know if carmy is here?” you smiled politely and nodded, “yeah, i can get him for you. are you a friend of his?”

she said, “he’s my boyfriend, actually.” you couldn’t tell if you heard glass breaking from the kitchen or if it was your heart was shattering in your chest after hearing what she said. she held her hand out, introducing herself to you. “i’m claire, by the way.”

you nodded as you connected the dots in your head. you knew that she was the person texting him while you both almost fucked for the millionth time in his office. you didn’t shake her hand and coldly responded, “i can go get him for you.” she was about to thank you when you suddenly made your way into the kitchen before she could say anything else to you.

you walked back into the kitchen as richie attempted to greet you but you ignored him, making your way towards his cousin. carmy was talking to syd about a new recipe when you tapped him on the shoulder. he looked over at you, “what’s up?” his face suddenly dropped after noticing the hurt in your eyes before you said, “your girlfriend is here.” venom was laced in each of those four words.

the kitchen suddenly fell silent as everyone collectively knew you and carmy had something going on. the charged energy between you two would fill the room whenever you were around each other. they all looked at carmy as if he ran over a dog without any remorse. he walked away from you and to the front, without saying another word to you.

as soon as carmy was out of sight, everyone went back to work at their designated stations. you walked out to the back of the restaurant, needing fresh air to collect your thoughts. you didn’t hear the door open behind you until you heard a voice say, “hey.” you jump startled until you turn around and see it’s just syd, making you sigh from relief. “jesus, don’t scare me like that, dude!”

she laughed, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you!” she then changed her tone, “i was just checking to see if you were okay after that.” you were far from okay. all you wanted to was scream at him for not telling you that he was dating anyone but still sleeping with you. you also wanted to cry and wonder why you weren’t the one he wanted to date.

you shrugged it off, “yeah, i’m fine.” while you knew that you had with him was supposed to be casual.. but was it casual when you would lie in bed after sex, nude for hours as you talked about your lives? or was it casual when he would run his fingers through your hair while you read your book and laid your head in his lap on his couch during your days off?

she gave you a comforting smile, “no, you’re not. it’s okay not to be after what you found out.” her words made your eyes well up with tears as you blinked them away to prevent feeling vulnerable. she pulled you into a hug, you laid your head on her shoulder as you sobbed.

she rubbed your back, letting you cry it all out rather than judging you. your breathing began to get ragged as you struggled to talk through your cries, “i don’t know why he wouldn’t tell me about her.” she sighed, “sometimes it’s better if we don’t understand everything.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #jeremy allen white #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #writeblr #Spotify #izzy writes 💕

[thebearer]

wait why do i have an imagine in my head of carmy walking down the street with a toddler teddy and they’re both all bundled up to meet you at the coffee shop on the street you live on, and miss teddy insists that they walk and just happily toddling next to carm

"Hold my hand, we're gonna go see Mommy." Carmen cooed, his hand in Teddy's tiny mittened hand. He had bundled her up for the Chicago fall, the last thing he wanted was for her to catch a cold.

The coffee shop was only a few steps away, and she'd been so good all day. Quietly coloring in his office with Sugar, while he prepped for dinner. She'd gotten a little squirmy after the first block, and Carmen wouldn't let her walk that far- not in the city where someone could bump her and well... it would get bad for everyone.

Instead, he held her hand the last stretch, texting you that you both were here.

You stepped out of your car, clicking the lock before turning, eyes scanning before you saw them, your heart melting. Carmen crouched down, one hand in Teddy's, the other on her back, the little two year old toddling in her puffy jacket and hat down towards you.

"Oh, look at you!" You cooed when she got closer, crouching so she could walk to you.

Carmen beamed, grinning when Teddy screeched, shuffled running steps into your arms, letting you wrap her in a hug and hoist her up. "Did you walk the whole way?"

"No, I let her walk just from the corner. She was gettin' kinda squirmy so." Carmen pecked your cheek gently, one hand on your back, the other on Teddy's.

Carmen reached for the door, pulling it open for the two of you to slide in front of him, your soft baby talk to Teddy about a muffin filling Carmen's chest with warmth.

#dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #thebearer #carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto #dilf!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #bearblahs #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fic #thebearerblurbs #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

[aestheticaltcow]

Three-Three-Three

A platonic fluff piece about the fridge scene at the end of Season 2.

This is also a solid way to help ground yourself when having a panic attack.

“What do you mean he’s locked in the fridge?” you laughed when Richie pulled you aside in the dining area. It was The Bear's friends and family's soft opening, and you were working the bar as a favor for your best friend, Carmy. “I mean, he’s locked in the fridge. Dumbass didn’t call the fridge guy to come fix the handle on the walk-in, and it broke off- so he’s locked in the fridge.” Richie explained further, growing more frustrated as he did.

“I shouldn’t find this amusing because he’s probably freaking out-” You cut yourself off when you noticed Claire, Carmy’s not-girlfriend girlfriend, come out of the kitchen crying; you groaned. Carmy had done something stupid. You looked at Richie. Steam would have come out of his ears if this had been a cartoon. He stormed back to the kitchen, somehow managing not to draw attention to himself. 

You nodded in the direction of the other bartender. He returned the sentiment, and you walked back to the kitchen to hear Richie and Carmy screaming at each other from opposite sides of the fridge. “I fucking love you!” Richie yelled, pointing at the fridge as his face twisted with anger and hurt. You had no idea what was going on as you approached the fridge, “Richie, tap out.” you solemnly said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Go smoke or something. I got this.” you sympathetically smiled when you saw tears forming in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking child, Carmen! Fuck you!” Richie yelled his final jab before walking toward the back of the kitchen to the alley before Carmy could yell anything back at him.

“Carmy?” you asked softly, trying to de-escalate the situation, “Y/N- fuck off! I need- I need-” you could hear the panic in his voice. “Carmy, can you please tell me three things you can see?” you heard Carmy groan. “Carmy? Three things you can see,” you repeated, putting a palm to the fridge door. 

“Just get me the fuck out of here!” he yelled, “Carmy. Three things you can see.” you held your breath when you felt a thud on the door, assuming Carmy had slammed a fist on the door or kicked it?

“Fine... carrots. Stock. And fennel,” Carmy said as he slid down the fridge door onto the smooth concrete floor. “Okay. Three things hear,” you responded.

He closed his eyes and focused on your words. “I ugh—the fridge compressor… pots and pans hitting the stove… your voice,” he answered, pushing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. The styling product he’d put in was long gone.

 “Now, tell me three things you can feel.” you said, putting your forehead on the fridge, “Uh, the floor… the door, and uh… my hair?” he answered. Carmy leaned back against the door and stared at the light above him. 

“Scale of one to ten. How are you feeling?” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Seven?” Carmy chuckled. 

“Is the fire department here yet?” he questioned only to hear you laugh again, “Carm, what do you think?”

“This would fuckin’ happen to me.” he scoffed. You grinned, “What happened with Claire? She ran out crying.” you heard Carmy sigh, “I thought I was talking to Tina… I was talkin’ about how I don’t deserve enjoyment.” you nodded. 

“I think she took your panic attack personally. Not very pro mental health of her.” you joked, hoping you hadn’t, pun unintended, poked the bear too much by asking. Carmy chuckled, “It’s okay… she told me she loved me, and I didn’t say it back. I think I loved her, but I’m not in love with her… ya know?” 

The two of you sat there for a while. You watched the kitchen bustle and hoped the other bartender wasn’t too slammed while you cared for Carmy through a couple of feet of metal. When the fire department came, they’d managed to open the door without breaking out the axe. Carmy was free, and Syd and Marcus sarcastically clapped and hooted, much to Carmy’s annoyance. 

Marcus laughed and exclaimed, “He returns!” before he threw an arm around Carmy’s shoulders. “Okay, back to work, chefs.” Carmy rolled his eyes before returning to his station. You laughed, “Well, at least you won’t forget to call the fridge guy again.” Carmy shot you a glare as you put your hands up defensively. “I’m not wrong, Berzatto.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fan fiction #the bear fan fic #the bear fluff

[sydneys-adamu]

the lingering it’s the lingering that gets me bc carmy and syd are both so obvious about it it’s painful. by those lockers sydney could have just zipped up her coat put on her scarf and left bc like they said there’s nothing to physically do but go home. instead of leaving she turns and waits. and girlie doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for she’s so surprised carmen asks if she’s doing anything. it’s like her brain caught up to where her body and heart gravitated and hit the alarm so she just ran out as soon as it got awkward. as soon as their eyes locked. but she waited because she wanted to see what would happen next, what carmy would say next.

carmy does the exact same goddamned thing when he brings the food out to her. he could have just brought her the food, let her say thanks and left. but he waaaaiiiiits. he waits to see what’s up with her, what’s wrong, he waits to see what sydney has to say next. continuing a conversation that could end, that in a lot of instances would end, but both times they refuse to let it end and it boils down to well I just wanna talk to you I like talking to you I like hearing from you what you have to say matters to me.

and I am begging you to walk with me here I want to connect this to the asl and what carmy defines it as “we’ll talk about this later” and how this is rooted in waiting. this is rooted in the offering of their time, something they never have enough of but still give to the other person or at least want to so badly. we will talk about this later and that conversation is important even if it hasn’t happened yet. they are both willing to wait for it and the changes that will come with it. carmen and sydney both linger in anticipation for someone to make a move, to make things personal instead of professional. it’s not in words, but in the existence of the other person. I’ll stick around for a few extra minutes after work just to talk to you but freeze up when you’re about to ask for more. I’ll bring you food and sit outside with you because you’re upset and it bothers me. I want more time with you however I can get it and yes I will make it as weird as possible in the process and yes it’s because I’m obsessed with you

#I did not mean for this to get this long lmao #this is my offering for the s3 renewal pls have it #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #the bear #‘every second counts’ yeah not in sydcarmy land #time is their little bitch and they love fucking with it

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs. 

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon. 

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees. 

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart. 

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right? 

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink. 

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…” 

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins. 

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence. 

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence. 

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?” 

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.” 

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!” 

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.” 

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’. 

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station. 

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.” 

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters. 

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction. 

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry” 

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.  

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding. 

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass. 

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect. 

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life.  The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them. 

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-” 

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry,  coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah” 

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare. 

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames. 

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence. 

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence. 

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s  tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day. 

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction. 

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does. 

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy smut #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmy x poc reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #jeremy allen white imagine

[hourglassfish]

A (long) Aside on 1:7 and 2:10

There are two responses to 1:7 and 2:10 that always quietly horrify me.

The first, and you know, I'm writing a multi part series on it, so it's no mystery - is that Sydney was arrogant/a brat/ couldn't hack it/ wrong to walk out, and that the situation as a whole was her fault. Nah. She was right to walk out, the biggest failure of that episode is not fucking pulling the breaks when Richie gets stabbed. The workplace has gone from dysfunctional to dangerous, she has been responsible for that danger, the perpetrator of it, and she is right to leave.

little bit of an asshole but i love you so i don't care

Carmy sees Syd saying she's going to stab Richie (as she holds her knife to his chest!) while they're up in each other's faces (with Richie goading her) and he does... nothing. He tells them to shut the fuck up and make giardiniera. At this point they needed to be separated! One or both of them needed to cool off. We've seen Syd bodily put herself between a fighting Carmy and Richie. A little reciprocity would have gone a long way here.

It's wild to me that people think that Carmy was justified in his anger and aggression towards Marcus and Syd and ignore that he is aggressive to Richie also! Richie, typically one of the more confrontational characters in the show asks him to calm down, to cool it. That so many viewers so quickly and uncritically accept Carmy's narrative point of view, even while the show actively challenges it confirms something that has been in the culture a long time: that we are much more used to excusing and aligning ourselves with abusive behaviour, than we are at challenging and refusing it. That people - many of whom have received this kind of behaviour themselves - want to defend it, makes me so, so sad.

It always hurts me a little that in 1:8 Tina tells Carmy that if he 'tries that shit with her, she'll fuck him up'. It's a fun line! But I'm sorry, no she won't. He screams at her too, while chucking bowls around and Sydney's words in 1:7 clearly hurt her. Tina categorically did nothing wrong. She doesn't deserve that shit. But at the end of the day, she is a middle aged Latinx woman and a mother, and so her tolerance level has to be higher. She needs that job! Shedoes not, as far as we know, have a father she can live with rent free, she does not have youth and the promise of exploitable potential to offer to employers in an ageist job market, she does not have CIA qualifications or a CV full of ‘serious heat’.

Carmy. holds. a. position. of. power. over. these. people. He is their boss, not their manager, and he owns the place, mob loan or no. He has the power to sack them all, to cut their hours, to cut their wages; thus the impact of that power extends not just to them, but also to their children and families. Louis being present in Review is not just to add an obstacle, it's also a reminder of those stakes.

Carmy has influence in the fine dining industry, regardless of whether that social and cultural capital is respected at The Beef or not. The very same oppourtunities that he provides them with in season 2 are things he could also lock them out of if he so chose. Any analysis of 1:7 that ignores this power is flawed from its root. When you are a boss, this power is ever present. One of the few things you can do to alter your boss's behaviour is to withdraw your labour. It's not the only option you have, but everything else is at their discretion, or mediated by lengthy, expensive legal processes.

yeh, i hate this

Carmy knows this, even if you don't! It's why the apology he gives Marcus - which Marcus does not ask for - is so heartfelt. Carmy has been on the receiving end of what that power, wielded cruelly, can do. He does not want to do this to others. We see him talk to staff with respect even while he endures horrid abuse in a flashback. We see him teach and explain himself, we see him listen and invite feedback - ‘say more’. His commitment to being a good boss is sincere, that kindness is in his bones.

The second thing people say that makes me want to die a little inside is that Carmy bought getting locked in the fridge on himself, that he deserved it in some way, and that getting locked in the fridge was him abandoning Sydney.

Oh my god!

He does not have a diagnosis yet - so anything we see is an interpretation. But it feels explicit that Carmy has panic disorder, and perhaps generalised anxiety disorder and CPTSD from both his workplace experiences and his childhood. A couple of things that he says and does suggest ADHD, or some other neurodiversity. He is not very careful with himself, and does not recognise these things as treatable problems (Richie says he experiences anxiety and dread, Carmy's response is 'who doesn't' - wince, cruel to Richie, cruel to himself - vomiting everyday and crying out of nowhere are presented as something 'loads of people do' to Sugar. Tumblr loves to send people to therapy, but I just want to send this man to do a basic google search of more than fun tbh). But they are debilitating for him, especially at work.

What happens to how we read Carmy's behaviour when he is presented as someone with an untreated disability, and absolutely no support plan in place? Does he still get his just desserts at the end of the season?

The fridge thing is a bit clumsy, I think. It's silly that over the space of three months, no one at any point just takes that job off him as a priority, or at least makes it something where Tony will call the restaurant, not Carmy specifically. It is unrealistic that there would not be some kind of back up safety lock inside the fridge. But you know, they're characters in a TV show, it also does not take two people swivelling around on the floor to tighten the coat hooks on a table (LOOOOOOL) - it's realistic until its not.

But, you know, it's doing a thing, several things - it's Chekov's gun, isn't it, it's the tangible impact of the lapse of focus that Uncle Jimmy is constantly trying to warn them about.

He wanted to cry here so bad!!! It makes me laugh every time

But umm... guys? What happens to him on that night is so, so horrible. They're a chef down, they're running out of forks, Richie's giving him shit (and Carmy is so susceptible to Richie giving him shit), Marcus and Syd are being all weird. He thinks one of his abusers (Donna) might come, or that she might not come and there will be emotional fallout from that. He thinks he sees his other abuser (Evil Joel Mc Hale) - and he's triggered. He goes in the kitchen and yells, but Syd pulls him back in. Then he goes into the fridge, partly to do chef stuff, I'm sure, but also partly to fucking get his shit together aaaaaand he gets locked in there! He has a panic attack! In a fridge! That he is locked in! And the people he loves most in the world, are the other side of that door, and for five minutes, an eternity in panic attack time, they ignore him! He has no clue what's going on! Last time shit hit the fan, two of his staff walked out (he's still not over Syd walking out cus they never talk about it properly), another one got stabbed and all these new ones are 'emerald green'. And he still thinks evil Joel Mc Hale is out there!

My loves, that shit is the stuff of nightmares! I know he tells himself that he bought this on himself but can we please! stop! uncritically! accepting! his narrative! point! of view!

I don't think anybody on screen recognises that a panic attack is what he's having. That's not their fault. None of them have seen him have a panic attack! They don’t get to see inside his head like we do (which saves them from a lot of R.E.M.) He is locked in the fridge, they just hear the bear banging on the door of his cage! It's not even in the language of the show at this point (though i am curious about how and when Richie came to get his Xanax). But that's what's happening. The team are fine. They do great. He has a terrible, terrible time.

My support worker found 2:10 deeply triggering - and her reason for this, she said, was that a lot of her job was supporting people with panic disorders who are leading teams, and seeing that moment coming, the moment where the panic crashes headlong into their role as leader. Part of her role is anticipating it, and trying to turn it around before they reach the point of no return. And as soon as Carmy thinks he sees Old Boss, he's gone. His body is in flight or fight, and he is alone with that. He can’t show up for Syd at that point, he is in his equivalent of the trenches.

This is also what is happening in 1:7. Somehow his response is often framed as a) rational or b) just an asshole - but it is so outsize to the situation, and to who we know him to be most of the time (quiet, kind, thoughtful, sensitive, BITCHY), that we know it has to be more than that.

None of this is helped by the fact that Carmy's panic attacks are... well they're kind of ugly! His meltdowns are aggressive and shouty, on the edge of physical violence, in an industry where people behave like that because they can. It is hard, parsing through that to the triggers, and fears, and panic beneath. It's scary! It asks so much of people to see that and want to help, not run away. But that is where he's at.

I do not have language for how much I hate how physical he gets with Marcus here, it is deeply upsetting

I have an access rider, to help me work well with people, and to help them work well with me. My mental health turns up in every job I do. All the time. Has done for years. It can make me unreliable, uncommunicative and absent. It can mean that people have to step up sometimes in ways they weren't anticipating. And one of the things the rider asks for is 'Good Faith' - a belief that I have not shut down because I'm an asshole, but rather because I have some unhelpful coping mechanisms that I am trying to work my way out of, that my triggers are real, not excuses for laziness or an expression of lack of care, that i will give as much as I can when I can.

Syd and Carmy are beginning to work towards this - Carmy says over and over again that he doesn't want to be shitty. Claire fucking muddies things, because I will not meet you skiving off to see your girlfriend with good faith fam. That shit he needs to be held accountable for. Dropping that envelope was a perfect Richie job, I'm still pissed about that. But being locked in the fridge... there's way more going on there.

The idea that Carmy should, and will, leave the culinary world keeps coming up in various metas. But... the problem isn't cooking? I think Carmy loves cooking, still. I think he likes being part of a team, and wants to be good at it. I think he likes teaching, and he is good at that. I think he likes picking the right silent plates and having his CDC in Thom Browne. I also think he likes being there a lot and being absorbed by his job.

The problem is that the workplace he is in is not one that is set up to his needs right now - it's not set up so that he can rest enough, so that he can eat well, so that he can exercise, or whatever he needs to do to help him manage his brain and nervous system. It's not set up so that if he is triggered, he and his team knows how to keep going with the service *and* not abandon him to the worst of his brain.

Ohhhh it's bad

Carmy ignoring Claire's call and not calling Tony feels bizarre stripped of the context of his panic attack that morning. But we know that anxiety and panic and executive dysfunction take simple things and make them insurmountable. It's not about Sydney in that moment, or even really about Claire*, and self sabotage feels so weighted with judgement when I think about what those frozen moments feel like from the inside. And I've had my diagnoses for 12 years! I've been doing that work, the long slog of trying to make sure my employees know enough context that my MH doesn't fuck up their day, whilst also maintaining my own dignity and right to privacy.

The disentangling of symptoms from personality traits is so hard - fuck ups from trauma responses, what was preventable, and what might have happened even if you did everything right. I never want to lose sight of compassion for Carmy, and the reality of how long it takes to break those cycles.

I also never want to stop seeing the power that he has over the people that he works with, and how, unfortunately, one of the responsibilities of leadership is that you have to be trying to get your shit together, you have to know yourself, and know how your baggage, combined with your power could be creating harm. It’s hard, but there’s not way around it. It is essential that he gets the support he needs, and puts the measures in place that means that he can also be vulnerable, not just for him, but for the team as whole. The power and the lack of framework together are so very harmful for everyone.

makes for delicious tv though 😉

I think a lot about the ticket machines in The Bear. I'm not thinking about them as a former line chef, cus I'm not that, I'm an artist and writer, that waitressed for a while (while a lot of chefs did a lot of coke out back!) and The Bear is fiction, not a documentary. Those little tickets are used for so many things. They're the sound of pressure. They're where a bunch of intrusive thoughts get flashed up on the screen. They are the presence of tech and of speed and alienation. They are the gap where two human beings, one asking for food, and one cooking that food, become consumer and producer. They are a presence of the machine in the workplace, and they stand in for Marcus's machines in McDonald's and for Evil Joel McHale and for financial failure.

One of the things that capitalism demands is that we always listen to that machine. That when we are making a choice, between the people stood around us, who we work with daily, who we live massive chunks of our life with, and the demand for production for go go go - that we choose the latter, even if it harms the former. That we open for service, even though one of our oldest friends just got stabbed. That we prioritise getting the service turned around on Friends and Family night (the easiest night of the year to go out, pour more wine, and say service is a little delayed, but we've got this), rather than maybe asking Fak or even Claire, to come and talk to Carmy through the door, as well, make sure that he's OK. That we just keep going.

And there are so many really important reasons to do that! Keeping going is how we learn and grow, it's how we make sure that we can pay the bills, how we provide beautiful experiences for customers and guests who are more than consumers to us.

But at some point, we have to ask at what cost. When do we stop and make different? When do we try something else, make new systems, that work for us?

A moment - a small, tiny moment - of triumph for me, is when Richie and Syd turn the table around. So rather than one person, facing the tickets alone, with their back to the kitchen as they yell out orders, the person on Expo faces in. yes they can see the tickets, but they can also see the people they are working with. They can see stress, and worry and joy. They can see how hard they are working. They can see that they are not alone, not just in a promise before service, but during service, when you need that connection most.

My hope is that Season 3 will have more of them making these decisions - ones that lean into seeing each other, where their relationships keep growing, and they build a system where the love and care they have for each other is truthfully at the heart of it.

Richie is not my bag, that's just for me, personally, but I get how much he means to others, and he's beautiful here.

*Man, I do think the romance subplot was a bit of a misstep. Pop always feels like such a waste of the audience's time, time not spent with Ebra and Tina, time spent on a presentation of romance that has been done to death and is never especially satisfying. Truncates a lot of empathy for Carmy. Boo. Hiss.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu

[drabbles-mc]

No Good Time For This

Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich

For the loveliest @hausofmamadas for the Fic in a Box Exchange

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, all the chaos and ridiculousness you expect with The Bear

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: the way i want to write 500000000 fics for SydRichie. But this is a start. Thank you Kay for giving me the chance to do this. Big loves to you 💕

The Bear Taglist: @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @garbinge @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

She considered it a small miracle, maybe even a blessing, that when she came back inside they were still sawing their way through the door of the walk-in. If it had been a normal Friends and Family night, she would’ve stuck around and waited for them to free Carmy from his self-imposed confines so that they could talk, rehash the things that had gone well, things that needed to go better next time. But it hadn’t been a normal one. Or maybe it had—she hadn’t had the pleasure of launching her own restaurant like this before. Everything about Sheridan Road had been different. So for all she knew the absolute bedlam they’d been dealing with was par for the course.

But she was still pretty sure that it wasn’t.

Either way, she knew that she wasn’t in the right headspace to stick around and try to talk it out with Carmy. There was no getting to the bottom of whatever everything was, not tonight. So she slipped through, grabbing her things as she went, not even bothering to hang up her brand new chef’s jacket in her locker. She’d just make a point to remember it in the morning when she was getting ready to leave. The immediate relief of one less thing standing between her and the door was worth the extra step tomorrow.

She saw the way that Ebra was looking on over the shoulder of the man who had shown up to free Carmy. That was enough to reassure her that she was free to leave. Even if she wasn’t, there was nothing that Carmy could scream at her for in that moment that he couldn’t just as easily scream at her for tomorrow. It could wait. He could wait. All the waiting that he’d made her do in the months leading up to this, she couldn’t deny that it felt a little right to leave him there and make him wait until tomorrow to see her or talk to her. She wouldn’t have gone out of her way to dodge him, but the universe was lining her up for the perfect shot at the moment, so she was going to take it.

When she walked out the front door, she wasn’t expecting to see Richie standing there smoking a cigarette, looking just about as lost as she felt. He turned around at the sound of the door shutting behind him. His eyes locked onto Sydney and he wanted to muster up some sort of reaction to it being her, but he just couldn’t quite manage it. There was the tiniest lift of his eyebrows, an almost imperceptible upward tilt of his head, but that was it. Sydney’s reaction was about the same.

“Thought you went home,” she said as she stepped so that she was beside him.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

It was different, weird even, to hear Richie’s tone sounding so neutral. He always had some kind of an inflection in his voice, even if it was an annoying one. He was always yelling, or laughing, or arguing to prove a point that no one else in the world cared enough to try and make. Even his most pointless stories were always told with a sense of urgency. So to hear him sound like that, so flat and almost empty, after one of the biggest nights for them in the last few months, didn’t sit quite right.

There was a comment on the tip of Syd’s tongue, something to the effect of telling him that he should go home. Then it hit her that she didn’t really know if she wanted to go home either. She didn’t want to be inside, didn’t want to look Carmy in the eyes, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to pack it in and head back to her apartment. She stopped herself from telling Richie to do something that she had no real interest in doing herself.

“That was…insane,” she said to him instead.

That got a hint of a laugh, more of a scoff than anything, out of him. But it was something. A feeling. “Yeah, yeah it fuckin’ was.”

“You did—”

“You know—”

They both started and stopped at the same time. They both chuckled awkwardly, shaking their heads. It always felt like they were either perfectly in-sync or constantly stepping on each other’s toes. At least this time the toe-stepping wasn’t accompanied by yelling.

Richie gestured for her to continue, the cigarette still in his hand tossing smoke everywhere in the process. “Go ahead.”

“You did…really great tonight, Richie,” she said with a nod.

He scoffed but cut himself short in the process. Take the win. He had to get better at letting himself take the win. After all, it wasn’t often that Syd was the one giving him any. “You too,” he let a pause linger for longer than necessary, a small smirk starting to creep its way across his face as he added on, “Captain.”

“Fuck off.” She said it with a laugh, no real heat behind the words the way that there had been in the past.

They both laughed, awkward tension starting to slowly evaporate, but the exhaustion still hung heavy in the air. Thick condensation that neither of them could shake off. It wasn’t until they both stopped laughing that Syd cleared her throat and prompted Richie to say whatever it was that he was going to say to her before.

He shook his head. He almost didn’t want to say it now. The moment was good. For all the bad moments over the course of the night, most of his moments with Syd had been good ones. He didn’t want to ruin that. They were laughing, and tired, and for a moment not stressed the fuck out about it all. He didn’t want to dredge it all up again. Looking over at Syd and her big, curious eyes, he knew that there was no saying, “Nevermind,” now.

He tapped the ash of his cigarette onto the sidewalk, a last-ditch effort of procrastination. “What I was gonna say, before you interrupted me,” he joked for a moment before letting his tone get serious again, “was that, fuck, I just—” He stopped and shook his head, already wanting to take it all back. He was long past the point of no return now. “You know you don’t have to just, fuckin’, put up with him being like that, right?”

Her brows drew together. “What?”

He nodded back towards the restaurant. “Carmy. You don’t have to put up with his whole, you know,” he gestured vaguely with his hand, less smoke in his wake this time, “toddler, bitch-boy routine.”

Syd couldn’t help but to laugh as she shook her head. “Richie, I mean, I get it, but I kinda d—”

“You don’t,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “Get back in his fuckin’ face when he gets at you like that.”

“Like you?” The words were meant to land as an insult, but she should’ve known better than to think that Richie was going to let them be one.

“Yeah! Like me!” He was hovering just beneath a yell now, but not really at her, still at Carmy. Syd just happened to be the person who was standing in front of him at the time. “Don’t let him think that that shit’s okay, you know?”

She shook her head. “He knows it’s not.”

“Then he should fuckin’ act accordingly!”

She knew that Richie wasn’t wrong. But she also knew enough, about Carmy and about the kitchen and about life, to know that it was lofty to think that her snapping back at Carmy all the time would be the magical cure for it all.

“I know,” she tried to be purposeful with her words, handling Richie with more care in that moment than she had in any other moment since she’d met him. “But can you at least agree that maybe, maybe it wasn’t the right time? You know? When we were all in the middle of the shit?”

The four seconds it took Richie to concede to what she was saying felt like they were actually much longer than that. He did give in, though. Shoulders dropping as he tucked his chin in a nod. “Doesn’t stop him though,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ baby.”

Syd didn’t even feel the smile creeping back onto her face, had no idea it’d made a reappearance. “Doesn’t stop you either, to be fair.”

“Pfft,” Richie scoffed as he flicked away the butt of his cigarette, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—I am the pinnacle of professionalism.”

“Richie.”

He rolled his eyes but there was a smirk on his face as he did. “Yeah, yeah. Not…not the right time.”

There was a pause, one that lasted long enough for either of them, or both of them, to go their separate ways. It’d been the longest night in the history of everything and there was no real reason for either of them to keep sticking around. Syd was vaguely aware of the fact that she probably still smelled like the back alleyway and her own vomit, and Richie was probably still forcing the last of the adrenaline out of his system. Even knowing that, though, neither of them moved. If anything, Syd was more tempted to just plop down on the curb than turn to start heading towards the station that would get her home. If she went home she would see her father. Her father who was currently so excited for her and proud of her, and actually showing it in a way that she could understand. She didn’t want to go home with the weight that was currently lingering on her shoulders and ruin that. It wouldn’t just be ruining it for her, it would be ruining it for him, too. If she could manage to wait a little while longer, she would. If Richie was going to give her a way to stick around, she was going to take it.

He wouldn’t be so bold as to say it, but Richie was glad that she didn’t seem to be in much of a rush to leave either. For as much as part of Richie wanted to be laying in bed staring up at his ceiling, he didn’t want to go back to the emptiness of his apartment yet. Carmy’s words were still bouncing around his head. They weren’t going to sink their teeth into him. He wasn’t going to let them do that. It wasn’t anything worse than what either of them had ever said to each other before. He was almost certain that they would say the same types of things to each other again at some point. All the personal growth in the world could never completely snub out those old habits. They would always come out of hibernation eventually. His fight with Carmy would hit him in waves over the next few days, but what was really pulling him under in the moment was something that he hadn’t seen coming. He knew that it was probably much more than just the fact that Tiff wasn’t at Friends and Family that was getting to him, that the issues and the need for closure there went much deeper than that. It was so much easier to attribute it to just one night, though, so that’s exactly what he was going to do for the time being. And if standing on the curbside with Sydney kept him from going home and staring at his ceiling and spinning out about things that were out of his control, then he’d keep doing it.

“Speaking of bad timing,” Syd started with a shake of her head, helping both of them procrastinate in the best way that they knew how.

“Oh shit,” Richie chuckled, “this is gonna be good.”

For a moment Richie was straddling between the possibilities of thinking that Syd was about to be complicit in her own bad timing, and thinking that her story was about someone else’s bad timing. They were both equally likely, given how things tended to go for all of them.

Syd didn’t know if she really even wanted to tell Richie what had happened. Or maybe want wasn’t the right word. She knew that she wanted to tell him, but she didn’t know why. She was, for the moment at least, probably better off not knowing the why. She also didn’t know how much telling him might end up backfiring on her. Want wasn’t the right word—should was.

Luckily for Richie, if there was one thing Syd had it was the ability to go for something even if it might blow up directly in her face after the fact.

“I think Marcus asked me out earlier.”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You think?” he asked, mostly mocking but also genuinely wondering how she could be uncertain about something like that.

“There was a lot going on!” She tried to come to her own defense. “There was a lot going on and I wasn’t exactly expecting it and he also didn’t really—”

“What’d you say?” He cut her ramble short, wanting to get right to the heart of it all.

“What?”

“He asked you out. So, what did you say?”

“You think I’d be standing here talking to you about it if I said yes?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Poor Marcus. That’s,” he glanced over at Syd, a shit-eating grin on his face, “that’s gonna be a tough one to come back from.”

She rolled her eyes, immediately regretting her decision to tell him. She knew it was coming, in a way, but she wasn’t going to let that take away her right to be annoyed. “Alright—”

“Sydney Heartbreaker Adamu,” he joked.

She wanted to be mad but she ended up laughing instead. “Shut up. Making me sound like some boxer.”

“Read all that Coach K shit and didn’t even end up in the right sport.”

She clasped her hands in front of her face for a moment, caught between praying and laughing a little harder at it all. “I think we’re all going to be busy enough so that it’s not going to be, like, a real—”

Sydney stopped herself mid-sentence when the restaurant door opened behind them. They each turned and looked to see Carmy walking through. However tired the two of them looked by that point, Carmy was about ten times worse and had twenty times more reason to be. There was a pause as they all stood and looked at each other—Syd and Richie looking at Carmy, Carmy going back and forth between the two of them. In the back of his mind he knew that he must’ve been interrupting something. He also knew that there should be something that he was saying but nothing was coming out. All the thoughts racing around his head and he couldn’t manage to externalize a single fucking one of them. Suddenly he found himself sitting there, spinning out and feeling embarrassed in front of two people he had worked so hard to fall into sync with.

Syd was willing to bite the bullet on behalf of everyone one more time. “We can talk tomorrow, Chef,” she said with a tight nod as she continued to look at Carmy.

He looked a little taken aback by the statement when he should have probably been nothing besides grateful. The last thing that he needed as to be getting into it with both of them in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk, especially not when they would both be teaming up against him. He knew that. But he also hated the feeling of being dismissed like he was a child who was getting suspended from school for the rest of the day. If he said that he was sure it would’ve been met by a comment from one or both of them that would have been to the effect of, “If you weren’t acting like such a child we wouldn’t have to fucking treat you like one.” And he knew that he’d deserve that too.

Carmy forced himself to nod, speaking somewhat to both of them even though he was still only looking at Sydney. It felt a little easier to do that, although he might feel differently after whatever conversation they would end up having tomorrow. For now, though, she was still safe.

“Tomorrow. Right. Yeah.” He nodded one more time. “Tomorrow.”

Carmy tried to get his feet to move but they wouldn’t. Richie could see it in Sydney’s eyes that she was about to take off. Home suddenly feeling like less of an uncomfortable notion when the other option was standing there with the two of them. He didn’t want to be left alone with Carmy, not so soon after everything else, so he beat her to the punch and rolled out before either of them could counter it.

“Night, Chefs,” he said in one sweep to both of them before turning and walking towards the lot where he’d parked his car.

Syd was the only one who said anything in return, Carmy only able to give him a nod in that moment. When Richie was far enough away to make the two of them look at each other again, Carmy wondered if Syd would change her mind and want to have a conversation with him about any of it, about anything really.

She ignored the hopeful look that was starting to creep into his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

He got half a nod out before he gave up on it, already seeing the way Syd was stepping back to go on her own way as well. “Y-yeah. See you…see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came much faster than anyone at The Bear had really been bargaining for. It felt like it was forever away with how long the day before had seemed. Syd thought that she was ridiculously early in getting there but the first thing she noticed was that the lights were already on. It was a toss-up on who had gotten there before her, a fifty-fifty shot between the two Berzatto’s. It wasn’t a sure enough thing for her to want to walk in just yet. She knew that she and Carmy needed to talk, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to. Especially not first thing in the goddamn morning. Maybe it was Natalie. Maybe it was Natalie and they would lament together in the office and it would all be okay. But something in Syd’s gut told her it was Carmy.

She was so busy staring at the door that she hadn’t heard the footsteps getting closer. It wasn’t until Richie spoke that she realized she was no longer alone out on the sidewalk.

“Keep meeting like this,” he mumbled past the cigarette between his lips.

Her head whipped in his direction, and it wasn’t until she saw the amused look on his face that she processed what he said. Once she really heard it, though, it got her to laugh. “Funny how that works.”

He nodded towards the restaurant before lighting his cigarette. “Ready to do it all over again?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “That’s why I’m standing out here on the,” she shook her head, “on the fucking sidewalk.”

He stepped in a little closer so that he was standing right beside her, as close to shoulder-to-shoulder as they could manage given their height difference. “How bad could it be, right?” he asked with a shrug, sleeve sliding against the material of her winter jacket.

The laugh that she let out was loud, almost involuntarily so. One of the only people who really knew just how bad it could get besides her was Richie, and that’s what nearly had her in stitches. “Fuck off.”

He flicked his cigarette away, not anywhere near done with it. More of a habit than a need, now. He placed his hand on her shoulder closest to him. “C’mon, Chef. Let’s get this over with.”

It took Richie less than ten minutes to come to regret those words. He and Syd had gone inside, Syd had put all of her things away in her locker, and that was when both of them heard shuffling around coming from inside the office. Carmy and Richie had said plenty to each other the night before—it was Sydney and Carmy who needed to actually have that first initial conversation. All Syd could make herself do was look at Richie as he looked at her, and finally she pushed the door to her locker shut. Neither of them said anything to the other. Richie just gave her a slight nod of reassurance before she went on her way.

The last thing he heard before Syd shut the door to the office was her saying to Carmy, “Hey, so, I think we really need to talk about last night.” The first thing he heard after that was Syd shouting, “Okay, well, it is a fucking problem!” Richie had no idea what was said between them between those two sentences, but he had no doubt that Syd was right, that whatever was being brought up and discussed was, in fact, a problem. Part of him wanted to linger, knowing that the two of them would undoubtedly get loud enough and stay loud enough for him to hear pretty much everything that was said, but he didn’t. He’d get the liner notes from one of them, or both of them, before the day was out. He was willing to settle for that. He went back out to the front of the house and made himself busy there instead. Purpose.

By the time that everyone else started to trickle in, the yelling had stopped. The tension wasn’t gone but at least they were no longer about to throttle each other. The office was Natalie’s head of operations once more the way that it should be.

“Where the fuck is Marcus?” Carmy asked as he was taking stock of everyone that was in the kitchen.

Syd shrugged, eyes glued to the counter in front of her. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“Did you call him?”

She didn’t turn her head to look at him, but her eyes flicked over to Carmy. “Did you?”

He raised his eyebrows, and Sydney could see it on his face that he was fighting the urge to say something that would kick everything off again. If it had just been the two of them he wouldn’t have held his tongue. As it was, he just shook his head and took off towards the back door so he could make the phone call.

Richie appeared right by Sydney’s side, seemingly out of nowhere the way it always seemed to be now. He leaned in close and kept his voice quiet, which seemed to be another new skill he honed in recent weeks, so that only Syd could hear him, and hear the humor in his voice. “Think he’s blowing us all off because you—”

“I do not think he’s blowing us off because of that,” Syd cut him off, shaking her head and trying not to let it show that she found it almost as funny as it was annoying coming from Richie.

The smug grin on his face grew a little wider. “Told you it was gonna be a hard one to come back fr—”

“Richie, do you remember how unpleasant it was last time I stabbed you?” She paused long enough to look at him, not long enough to let him answer the question before continuing on to say, “Our knives are so much nicer and sharper now, you know?”

He chuckled, holding his hands up. “No need to get stabby—just paying you a compliment.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Syd realized just how close Richie was actually standing to her. She didn’t want to think about it. There were so many other things that she needed to be thinking about. Things that mattered in that moment, like the restaurant, like Carmy being one mishap away from falling completely fucking apart again, like Marcus being MIA. She didn’t need to be thinking about Richie standing close to her and the way warmth rolled up and down her spine like someone was dragging their fingertips there.

Richie was either too busy being amused with himself to notice the shift, or just oblivious because nothing prior to that moment would’ve given him any inkling that he would elicit that from her just by invading her personal space the way that he always did with her and everyone else. Or maybe, Syd thought for a moment, he noticed and was just being kind enough not to say anything at work in front of everyone. That was a short-lived moment.

Regardless of the why, Richie switched tracks. “Speaking of people being butthurt—how’d it go with Carmine this morning?”

Syd rolled her eyes, split-second infatuation completely gone. “It went great, yeah. Super…super productive. Did you not hear it?” If her sarcastic tone was a tangible object it would’ve been a lead brick dropping directly onto Richie’s toe.

He shook his head, trying not to smile and failing miserably. “Only a little bit of it.”

“How did that little bit sound?”

He gave a fake impressed frown and nod. “Productive, I’d say.”

She knew he would be able to tell that she didn’t really mean it when she told him, “Fuck off,” but it still felt good to say it.

“Told you, sweetheart,” he rested his hands on her shoulders for a brief moment, “Peak of Professionalism.”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes, smiling as he walked away to start taking care of more pressing matters, “add it to your resumé.”

The next dinner shift was about as much of a scramble as the previous one had been. Different, but similar. Marcus being MIA made things difficult, but there was something to be said for Carmy not being locked in the freezer this time around. Chaotic, but manageable—that was something they were all used to.

 “All good, Chef?” Richie asked when he walked back into the kitchen to grab some of the plates that were up.

Syd was nodding, eyes still locked on the sea of slips in front of her. “Yes, Chef.”

Richie had a plate in each hand but he still paused beside her. “Hey,” he paused and waited for her to finally look over at him, “you’re doing good.”

Syd expected to want to come back with something snarky, but instead the smile on her face was genuine. “Thanks—”

“Doing as good as I did last time? Well,” Richie said with a shrug, trying not to laugh, “we’ll see.”

She immediately dropped her eyes back to the real task at hand, partially to focus but mostly so he wouldn’t be able to see her trying not to laugh. “Need to see those plates walking, Chef.”

He laughed, already stepping away as he said, “Yes, Chef.”

Sydney was sure that there was a universe out there somewhere, where she got along easily with both Richie and Carmy. As it stood, however, she seemed to be stuck in a world where she could only ever manage to be on good terms with one of them. For the longest time it was her and Carmy—a united front in a way against the rest of the restaurant. Part of her thought that shifting to The Bear was only going to strengthen and solidify that. They were supposed to be partners, after all. Much to her surprise it seemed to be doing the exact opposite. It was more complicated than just the two of them ‘not getting along’. The problems ran deeper than that, had a reach farther outside the kitchen than that. Regardless of the reasoning behind it all, it left the two of them feeling about as far apart as they’d ever been since she’d shown up to stage when they were still The Beef. She couldn’t simply storm out and walk away like she had before, not with how deeply she was entrenched in it now. She had to adapt, had to figure it out even if Carmy seemed to be incapable of doing the same.

Apparently an integral part of the adaptation process was her and Richie mending things between them. There was never really a conversation about them filling in the cracks of the foundation between them. They never sat down across the table from each other and spelled out everything that they were sorry for—that wasn’t how they were wired with each other. They understood, though, one good turn deserving another. They both knew that there was more to be said about them being on the same wavelength in the kitchen, that that change alone said more than a plain apology ever would. To being combatants on opposites sides of the fight to being each other’s touchstone in the middle of the chaos was a one-eighty that neither of them ever would have been able to call. They never really said anything about that either, but they made sure the other knew that they were grateful for it.

“You heading out soon, Chef?” Richie asked after a long minute of watching Syd fuss over produce placement and organization on the cart.

Her eyes flicked over to the clock on the wall before they finally landed on Richie. She hadn’t even noticed the time going by. “Yeah. Soon.”

He didn’t mean to smile but he couldn’t stop himself either as he walked closer. “What’re you doing?”

“I feel like this could be better.”

“Better?” He laughed. “It’s fuckin’ vegetables, Syd. How—”

“Not everyone in this kitchen is six feet tall, Richie.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m six-one,” he paused for emphasis, “But I see your point.” He looked at her as she went to look away. “You really think you’re gonna crack the code tonight?”

“I might! I could. Probably.”

He was shaking his head but he knew that she was probably right. Usually if she thought on something hard enough she’d get to the bottom of it one way or another. “Alright,” he conceded as he took a small step back. He leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited.

It took longer than it should have for her to notice that he was still standing there. She tried to ignore the way her heartbeat quickened just slightly. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“What if there’s a vegetable-placement-related emergency tomorrow and you’re not here?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Stuck in the freezer,” Richie said with a laugh despite the fact that the door to the walk-in was in perfect working order now. He gave them each a moment to laugh at that, knowing that joking about it was the only way to cope with it at this point. “Anyway, what if there’s an emergency and I’m the only other one who would’ve had the answer if I had just stuck around?”

“Your head is a very dramatic place to be,” she said, smiling and knowing enough to not argue with him further or try to insist on sending him home.

She didn’t stick around for as long as she would have if she had been alone. Throughout the process of opening The Bear she had spent plenty of late nights at the restaurant on her own and she didn’t think twice about it. Things had to get done and she was fine being the one to stay late and do them. It felt different knowing that Richie was there and waiting on her, though, even if he wasn’t saying anything or trying to rush her.

“I don’t think I’m getting this tonight,” she finally conceded.

Richie chuckled, stepping forward again. She didn’t shy away from him encroaching on her space. He looked over her shoulder, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Maybe there’s nothing to get.”

She let out a short sigh. “Yeah.” She pressed the heel of her palm to the edge of her forehead for a moment. “Maybe.”

Sydney wasn’t looking at him but that didn’t stop Richie from looking at her. His eyes raked over her profile, unable to make himself look at anything else. He took in a slow, deep breath, knowing that there were words on the tip of his tongue that he just couldn’t let himself say. Part of him wanted to, just so it was out there in the open and he wouldn’t have it hanging over his head anymore. That same part of him also couldn’t help but to sometimes think that he wasn’t the only one who felt the way that he did. It took two, right? To make things work the way that they had been?

But he didn’t want to be the next person that she talked about to someone after hours, another story of some poor sucker who couldn’t read the room and had the worst timing in the world. He didn’t want that. It was a little selfish, sure, but the outcome was still the same—their dynamic would keep.

Syd turned around, thinking that she was just going to go and grab her things from her locker. She stopped on a dime, though, when she saw how close Richie had been standing to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide as an awkward laugh slipped past her lips.

“What’s up?” she asked, not moving away from him if he wasn’t going to be moving away from her.

He gave a small shake of his head. “Nothing.” He took a tiny step back, just enough so that if he needed to, he could say that he made an effort to put some distance there. “You, uh,” he motioned back over his shoulder, “you good to go?”

Syd didn’t want to admit that she was disappointed by the sliver of space that Richie had put between them, by the fact that he was ushering the moment to a close before it had even really gotten started. She didn’t want to admit it but she knew that she was. All she could do at that point was hope that it wasn’t written all over her face.

“Yeah. Yeah I just gotta grab my stuff.”

Richie nodded. “Right.”

There was a moment, the two of them standing close even though they weren’t as close as they had been but still feeling just as close. Maybe it was all in his head, or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t stop studying Sydney’s face and in the process maybe he noticed that she was staring at his lips but he didn’t want to think too much about any of that.

And apparently Sydney didn’t want to think too much about it either because she forced herself to take a small step to the side as she said, “I’m just gonna…grab that…”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding more defeated than he meant to. It wasn’t until she was a few more strides away and out of earshot that he dropped his head and whispered, “Fuck me,” to no one other than himself.

Neither of them said anything about it the following day. Or the day after that. It didn’t matter how often it crossed each of their minds, the possibilities of it all. There were too many other things to handle, too many other moving parts that required their attention. At least that’s what they each told themselves anyway, that and they each tried to assure themselves that there was no way the other could really feel the same way. They were Syd and Richie after all. In what world would things play out like that for them?

For all the havoc it was wreaking on them internally, their saving grace was that they were still able to manage work just fine. Or, as well as they ever had. Bumps and mishaps and screaming matches with Carmy still peppered in for good measure. But they still had each other’s backs, and Syd wished that she knew how to thank him for that without making it weird or blowing up her own spot about it all. It should’ve been easy, but then again nothing with them really ever was.

Sydney didn’t say much when Richie snapped back at Carmy in her defense, saving her the trouble of getting into another argument with him herself. She didn’t comment on the way that his voice had an extra layer of firmness to it when he came to her defense. She just gave Richie a nod and a silently mouthed, “Thank you,” after Carmy walked away. And when Sydney cut Carmy short when he was getting after Richie for things that weren’t actually his fault, Richie didn’t say anything then either. Syd would give him the look, the slight tilt of her head and raise of her brows to ask if he was alright, and rather than say anything in response Richie would just rest his palm against the center of her back for a moment before diving right back into it all.

The Bear had been silent and seemingly empty for a while, dinner service long since done and over with. Sydney was making the final rounds through, reassuring that everything was in the right place for the next day. She still hadn’t gotten around to rearranging the produce but she found herself smiling regardless anytime she thought about it.

She shut off all the lights in the kitchen as she made her way out towards the dining area. She swung the door open with more force than she meant to as she stuffed things haphazardly into her bag.

“Oh, shit,” Richie said with a surprised laugh. “Just crashing through here like that?”

Her eyes widened. “Shit. Fuck, sorry. I didn’t know…I thought it was just me here.” She paused. “What are you still doing here?”

He shook his head slightly, like he was going to dismiss the question. Then he remembered who it was that he was talking to. “Thought I had something but,” he fiddled with the fork on the tabletop, “I think I’m just going fuckin’ insane at this point.”

Sydney laughed as she walked over so that she was standing beside him, staring down at the same table he was. “This place will do that to you.” There was a breath of a pause between them before Syd blurted out, “Are you okay?”

He contorted his face in confusion. “Am I okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know that Carmy has been—”

“Carmy has been the same little bitch he’s always been,” Richie cut her off, simultaneously rude and assuaging her worries. “Nothing changed there. New fancy restaurant and he's still the same fuckin’ toddler. Now he’s just a toddler in debt to fuckin’ Cicero.”

Syd smiled and shook her head. She should’ve known better than to expect a real answer. “Right. Well, if there’s anything I can do…”

“You’re already doing it,” Richie replied before thinking better of it.

“What?”

He froze for a moment before clearing his throat and making himself speak. “You tell anyone I said this and I’ll deny it. I’ll deny it and I’ll get you fucking fired…somehow,” he said and they both laughed quietly before he continued. “But you said it, you know? You called it.”

“Called what?”

“You said that this place could be good. You said it didn’t have to be shitty and you were right. And you made it, you know, not fuckin’ shitty.”

It was one of the realest, most direct compliments he’d ever given her. Or anyone, really. “Thanks.” She paused for a moment as she gnawed the inside of her lip. “It wasn’t just me, though.”

“Talkin’ about Fak?” he joked, trying to erase the tension he felt starting to bubble up all over again.

Sydney laughed. “Yeah, obviously.” She let it hang in the air for a moment before she reached and rested her hand against the outside of Richie’s bicep, pads of her fingers making the fabric of his suit jacket give into her. “It was you too, Richie. You know that, right?”

He didn’t know why his face felt like it was on fire all of a sudden. “Nah, I mean—”

She wasn’t having it. “You make this place good. It’s not, you know, it’s not The Bear without you here.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He forced himself to stop looking at the table and look at her. He was looking for any sign of her backpedaling, waiting for the first hint of sarcasm, but it never came. It was just her there with all of her honesty and her hand on his arm. And suddenly he became very aware of how much closer to him she’d drifted.

He should just say it. That was all he could think as he stood there with her. It’s all he could ever manage to think about in their small moments together like that. He should just fucking say it. He should tell her how he feels. There had to be something to it, right? There was no way that it could all be in his head. And yeah, maybe the last guy thought the same thing but now Richie was standing there with Sydney practically melting into his side while he was about to start melting into the floor. He didn’t want to just be another story that she passed along to the next guy, a cheap laugh at his expense when he wasn’t around, but if that was the price he had to pay to find out if he was living in some form of delusion, maybe it was a price he was willing to pay.

“Syd?” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice, the hesitation in it.

“Yeah?”

She sounded hopeful, which made him hopeful in return. “There’s never a right time, you know? For a lotta shit? I…I know that.” He cleared his throat. “And maybe this is really fuckin’ stupid of me, because we’re finally figuring our shit out and you shot down the last guy but I just gotta say it. I know it’s bad timing but let’s be real it’s not like any of us here ever really have good timing for shit like this.” He studied Syd’s face, looking for any traces of negativity and somehow still missing that she was holding her breath in anticipation. “I think that you, fuck, you’re the greatest thing that’s happened in a long time. To me. And yeah, there’s the restaurant and the rest of it but, but it’s…it’s you.” He punctuated his statement by putting his hand on her shoulder.

Syd thought her heart was going to beat hard enough to crack its way right through her ribcage. “Richie—”

“And if you gotta go all Heartbreaker on me I get it but—”

“Richie,” she repeated herself, just enough to get his attention. “You’re right.” She paused, soaking in the shocked look on Richie’s face as he tried to figure out which part she thought he was right about. “There’s never a good time.” The shock faded to disappointment but she paid it no mind because she knew where she was going next. “But this might be, you know, the best time. The only time. And,” and moved her hand from his arm so that it was resting on top of his hand on her shoulder, “I’m sick of trying to wait for some sort of sign that says it’s the right time. Honestly? I think,” she laughed, “I think this is it. This is the sign.”

The apprehension drained out of him instantly as he listened to each word she said, soaked up the warmth flooding from her hand into his. “Yeah?” he still had to ask, hopefully to a painful degree.

She nodded as she squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”

For once he couldn’t think of anything to say. So he did the next best thing. He turned just enough so that he was facing her, hardly giving either of them time to overthink their way through it as he leaned in and kissed her, his lips catching hers.

His hands cupped both sides of her face, channeling all the instances of almost and maybe into that one action like he was afraid it would be the first and last time. He wanted to make it worth it, wanted to make sure she knew.

Syd felt the way that he leaned down into her, eager, hopeful. She was instantly lost in the way his lips moved against hers, allowing herself to get swept up in it all as her hands fell to rest on his arms—steadying him, keeping him there although he had no intention of trying to be anywhere else.

It was just the two of them in the darkness and quiet of the restaurant, and for once neither of them had the urge to say anything at all.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #sydney x richie #sydney adamu x richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x sydney adamu #the bear fanfiction #richie jerimovich fanfiction #sydney adamu fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #fiab 2023 #fic in a box 2023

[unladyboss]

OUT THERE TALKING TO WHOEVER! - SYD'S POV

I was reading @mod-doodles post about Syd reciprocating feelings for Carmy and I agree with all she said

It's been a push-pull all season 2 with Carmy.

He'll do something really cool or sweet or nice, then something horrid like blowing Syd off. They have that big table scene and then he goes to check on Claire mid service. I know if I was Syd, I'd feel that he likes that I can work for him and make a good restaurant. Not anything else.

If I was Syd, I'd feel like he wants me to be around for work and get ideas, but he'll put his feelings and everything else into Claire. I'd also think that all the times he did nice things, was to keep me around for the sake of the restaurant.

Mid service

Goes to see Claire

Even when Syd questions the timing

Remember Syd doesn't see how he is with Claire, just that he brought her around, seems excited about her, and under the table he said she's so great that it scares the sh-t out of him.

Now if some guy I liked told me that about some girl HE liked, I'd be turned off and kinda over my crush on him.

That part probably affected Syd as well and made her come back to earth. Back to some realizations

So when Carmy goes to check on Claire and then comes back only to berate her for cold disgusting 7 fishes,

Sydney let him know EXACTLY what she was upset about.

Sydney's hurt jumped out.

Who remembers whenever your mom got mad at you for being out playing with your 'lil friends' or WHOEVER!

Acting like she doesn't know the names of who you were out with. BUT SHE KNOWS

That's when she's super ticked off!

So Sydney was upset and most likely hurt as hell. Therefore, when Carmy gets locked in the walk in fridge and is calling for Syd, telling them to get Syd, I don't know that Sydney has any motivation to go get Carmy or comfort him, except for in the first minute when she asks if he is ok and he says no.

Besides the fact that they still have to get through service, I'd have been thinking " get your girlfriend to come get you out, since y'all worked on the menu together"

Syd though, is still kind in her thinking towards him, because when Nat says I told him to call Tim/Tony, Syd tells her ' not now' probably meaning let's not bash Carmy any more for this.

It's not lost on me that Carmy probably went into the fridge to hide knowing full well he might get stuck in there. Syd had just agreed to refire the fish, he was upset over thinking he saw his old horrible boss, and upset over yelling at Syd after she reminded him he was out talking to Claire during service.

He didn't need anything in the fridge. They have people to go get it if they need. He should have been doing a dish.

So here's what. We're seeing what Carmy is going through and what Syd is going through. Neither of them let slip that they feel more for each other than the restaurant. But Syd, who seems to be even more guarded, as she should be given Carmy's behavior, has to keep the walls up. Carmy disappointed her again.

Guess who we see Syd rely on a lot while Carmy is locked in the fridge?

CONNOR

I heard her call his name three times and saw him in several shots after that looking at or listening to Syd

Season 3 might see Syd with walls all the way up even with Claire gone. Connor might provide romantic fun for her, even with those walls still up.

But Carmy has a lot of work to do.

#syd #love #sydney adamu #marcus sydney #carmy berzatto #carmy x syd #the bear #slow burn #sydcarmy #romance #relationship #carmy x claire #desire #philip k dick #philip k. dick #time out of Joint #carmy alcoholic #high functioning alcoholism #carmy secret alcoholic

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi, idk if you write this kind of thing but would you mind writing something with either carmy berzatto or frank castle and a recovering addict! gf?

she relapses and he's angry but he loves her so he's gentle. he doesn't know what to do.

i’m not doing so well atm and i’m really struggling to stay clean, your writing and just fics in general really help take me out of my own head.

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Author's Note - hi sweet anon. i'm sorry to hear you're not doing so well at the moment. i lost a good friend of mine to addiction, and i know how hard it can be. just know that you're never alone - there's always someone you can talk to. you're doing amazing, and I'm wishing you all the best. you've got this.

i got this request and knew i had to write it, as it's something very close to my heart. i've tried to handle it as sensitively as possible, without going into too much explicit detail. i've included some resources at the bottom of this post such as websites and hotlines if you feel like you need some support. so much love to anyone who's struggling. i see you, and i admire you. you're always stronger than you think x

Pairing - Frank Castle x Recovering Addict Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - addiction. mentions of relapse. talk of sobriety and being clean. cursing. please do not read if this will be triggering to you in any way.

Word Count - 1.7k

Masterlist. Requests.

Frank knows something is wrong the minute he walks through the door.

Usually, he yells honey, I'm home! and is greeted by you jumping into his arms, covering his face in kisses.

Today, you're nowhere to be found.

He's storming through your house, yelling your name at the top of his lungs. A thousand scenarios are running through his head, all of them horrifically tragic. He's terrified.

He gets to the closed bathroom door and yells your name again.

"Sweetheart, you in there?"

You don't reply, but he hears you sniffle.

"Shit, baby, are you cryin'? Open the door. Whatever it is, I'll fix it, okay?"

"You can't," you sob. "Not this time."

Frank has never heard you this upset, and he's starting to panic.

"Open the door, honey. Please. Just open the door and we'll work somethin' out."

"You don't want me to," you cry. "You're going to hate me."

"Hate you? I could never hate you. I love you, you know that. Open the door. Please."

You sniffle again, but make no attempt to move.

"Alright. I'm about to break it down. Move back, so I can kick it in."

"Don't you dare," you threaten. "This door was expensive."

"Then open it."

You're not sure if it's his words, or the way he sounds exhausted, but you decide to give him some respite. You stand up and turn the lock, before slumping back down into your spot on the floor.

Frank takes a good look at you, and his heart shatters.

Your cheeks are tracked with mascara stained tears. You're wearing nothing but a tank top and some underwear. Your hair looks like you've been running your fingers through it repeatedly. Your lips are bitten and raw. You look tired.

"Baby," he whispers. "What happened? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you lie.

"You're not fine. You're clearly not fuckin' fine. We don't lie to each other, do we?"

When you don't answer, he grabs your chin to look at him where he's standing.

"Do we?"

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. "We don't lie to each other."

"That's right," he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "Now please, honey. What happened?"

Silence. More sniffles.

"If I tell you, you're going to hate me. You're going to leave me and you're going to hate me."

"I don't think there's anythin' in the world that could make me hate you," he reassures.

Frank looks at you intently, proving you have his full attention. He cups your cheek gently, and waits for you to tell him the truth. Eventually, you speak.

"I relapsed," you whisper.

Frank's whole body goes rigid, and he freezes. He's still looking at you, but it's different now.

"Frank," you say gently. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

Your blood runs cold. He sounds... distant. Detached. He sounds angry.

"Please don't hate me. I told you you'd hate me. God, I knew this would happen."

There are fresh, warm tears streaming down your face, dripping onto your shirt. Frank still remains stoic, removing his hand from your cheek.

"I don't hate you," he says eventually. "But I need you to give me a minute."

With that, he rises to his feet and leaves. You're left on the bathroom floor, sobbing and alone.

 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

Frank sits on the edge of your bed, trying his best to take deep breaths.

Your addiction isn't a secret. You've talked about it time and time again, telling Frank all of the details that you swore to yourself you'd never tell anyone. You met him, and felt instantly safe. He's the perfect confidant - he listens, he understands. He's compassionate, he's gentle, he's empathetic. You've opened up again and again, and Frank has never judged you once. It's one of the reasons you fell so hard for him.

You've been clean since you met him. A naive part of him hoped that he'd never have to see you otherwise. He knows that sobriety is a journey, he knows that it isn't linear. But he hasn't been through it. There's only so much he really understands. He tries, though. God, he tries.

He's sitting in your shared bedroom, wondering why he left you in the bathroom by yourself. Is it because he can't bear to see you upset? Is it because he can't handle it like he thought he could?

He realises, suddenly, that it's because he simply doesn't know what to do. He's never been in this situation before, and he doesn't know which course of action to take. Does he sit and cry with you? Does he yell at you to never do it again? Does he tell you he still loves you, no matter what? He decides, unsure, to try a mix of all three.

Frank strides back into the bathroom and sees you still in the spot he left you. You're still crying, and it lodges a lump in his throat. He fights back his own tears, and sits down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. We're okay. It's all okay."

"It's not okay, Frank," you sob. "I'm so mad."

"At me? I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have stormed out like that. I just panicked and -"

"No, no. At myself."

Frank soothingly strokes your hair, rocking you gently. You relax into his hold, tears subsiding slightly.

"I've worked so hard on being clean. It's a choice, every single day. Why did I choose wrong today? I've ruined everything. I've fucked up all of my hard work, all of my progress."

"You know," he begins. "There's no end goal here. It's a constant journey. And on any journey, there's gonna be ups and downs."

You try to protest, but he cuts you off.

"One bad day doesn't determine the rest of the week. Or the rest of the month. Or the year. Okay?"

You nod your head, and he kisses your temple.

"There's always tomorrow, baby. There's always tomorrow. We can start again. Today doesn't undo everything. It just changes your course a little."

"Frank Castle. A poet. Who knew?" you tease. He laughs, and the vibrations buzz through you both.

"Only for you, honey."

You both sit on the floor for what feels like hours, content to just hold each other. Frank is wondering what caused the events of the day, what made you feel like you had no other option, where you even got a hold of everything. But he doesn't ask. He knows you'll talk about it tomorrow. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, and tries to match his racing heart to the beat of yours.

"Promise me that if you feel like this again, you'll tell me. I don't care where I am, or what I'm doin'. We're in this together."

"I promise," you whisper.

"There's always tomorrow, honey," he murmurs into your hair.

"There's always tomorrow," you echo.

He's right. There's always tomorrow.

Al-Anon / Ala-Teen Hotline - 800-356-9996

SAMHSA Hotline - 1-800-662-4357

DrugFree Hotline - 855-378-4373

Alcoholics Anonymous (UK) - [phone]

DAN 24/7 (England&Wales) - [phone]

Narcotics Anonymous (UK) - [phone]

MIND Website (lots of useful UK resources here)

SAMHSA Website (USA)

these are just a select few. there are hundreds, if not thousands, of websites, hotlines and places to turn for support if you're struggling. asking for help might be the hardest thing you'll ever do. but it's so worth it. promise x

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader angst #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle x reader fluff #frank castle x recoveringaddict!reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle x oc #frank castle comfort #jon bernthal #the punisher #punisher #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher angst #frank castle smut #marvel x reader #marvel angst #marvel fluff #marvel imagine

[spiderlandry]

i recently watched the bear and i am having MAJOR brainrot thinking about ethan working in a kitchen … he’s not anything like carmy but i just have a thing for chefs now !!!

him in an apron, running a kitchen with him, calling everybody ‘chef’ as a sign of respect.

you learn from each other as you both develop a new menu, sneaking glances at you while you cook, falling deeper in love with you while you talk about your background with food, you’d taken an interest to cooking as a kid.

chad, the pâtissier, watches from the sidelines with tara when you seem to be in your own world with ethan.

“you think they’re doin’ it?” chad whispers to tara.

she playfully slaps his arm, laughing. “not yet, probably. look at the way he’s looking while they’re not paying attention.”

she’s right, ethan only stares at you when you’re not looking.

before the crack of dawn, you and ethan are the first there to start prep.

when restocking the walk-in, he’s hauling crates of meat and mindy catches you practically drooling over his arms and she’s raising her eyebrows at you.

everybody in the kitchen is sick of you two dancing around each other, waiting for the time one of you finally get the courage to confess before they take matters into their own hands.

(they plan to lock you two in the walk-in if you don’t get it together.)

#ethan landry thoughts 💭 #ethan landry x reader

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Anyway I can request a Gallzatto x Female!Reader imagine? Maybe it’s after she gives birth to the twins and they’re all coming home and it’s just about them adjusting and taking care of their little family and their woman as well since she went through a pretty complicated pregnancy and birth? (bonus points on these guys being addicted to her boobs more than usual now they they’re bigger than usual and full of milk?)

This one gets smutty at the end because I feel a certain way about boyfriends and their girlfriend's big, milky tits 💦💦🔞🔞

But oh man those two? They somehow planned your entire recovery period, even the tiniest details not forgotten. Aparently they had managed to plan it all while the doctors fixed you up and checked on the babies.

You didn't have to stay in the hospitsl for longer than that day, so late at night all five of you walked through your apartment door. All three parents still smiling widely as they, for what felt like the millionth time, stared down at their beautiful baby daughters.

Rose and Lily.

With momma mostly having to stay on bedrest the boys are spending all your sleeping moments together to bathe their baby girls, make quick meals for you, cleaning duty all day. They're putting any stay at home dad to shame with their teamwork.

I think this is the time that the two of them really start to be each others' boyfriends too, as well as being yours, sharing quick kisses and touches.

When it was time for the babies to feed they'd wake you oh so carefully, help you sit up and watch over their girls, burp them after feeding and absolutely be talking all obsessively about how great your tits look now, admitting to almost being jealous of the little ones being the only ones allowed to touch them right now.

They're in detail discussing the topic, Lip being whiny about how he misses being intimate with you while Carmy agrees but adds he's more curious as to how you taste. "Oh fuck, man. Now you're making ne imagine it." Lip drags a hand over his face, looking up with a sigh. "Not cool, man." Carmen only laughs at his now shared curiosity.

With every passing week and doctor appointment you were able do to more stuff by yourself, being awake at normal hours again and properly spending time with your family. With you being on bedrest for so long, you were relying on the boys showing all the right ways to care for your daughters. Closely watching them as one explained while the other showed you. They hovered like crazy in the beginning, slowly letting you do things all.on your own as they saw you were handling your babies well enough.

Eventually you felt good enough to suggest going out for a short walk, really wanting to be outside for a bit after feeling locked up for so long and only being out once to have the babies, and being stuck inside directly after.

With the walk going well and only leaving you exhausted from the amount of activity, the boys started plotting to get you back in bed with them. The knew you were still off-limits when it came to having sex until the doctors gave you the green light to start easing into it again.

But hey, you were up and around again so the second your daughters were asleep, they lured you to bed. "For cuddles, we missed being with you." Carmen's argument stupidly enough made sense in your eyes so you let them go on. You laid down in the middle, one boy at each of your sides, arms draped over your stomach and kisses being strategically placed frkm yojr jaw down to thelow cut neckline of your top that they simultaniously pulled down to reveal the feeding bra that covered your soft breasts.

They both let out a content hum as you hadn't tried to stop them yet and both of them undid the button at the top of each cup. Pulling them down they continued their trail of kisses over the swell of your full chest, stopping right at your nipples and cautiously licking to test your response.

Whwn your hands ended up in their hair almost immediately they shot each other a panicked glance, thinking they were in deep shit until they realised you weren't doing anything to pull them away. Lip only wanted to play, so he placed some more wet kisses as Carmy pressed his tongue down and licked before both of them latched on and sucked softly. You did your best to stay quiet so the babies wouldn't wake up but the feeling of them drinking from you was too good. Carmen's hand came up to your breast to squeeze it, tasting you more and more. Lip's traveled south to the inside of your thigh, rutting against the plush of your leg.

After a moment your fingers tugged at their hair, telling them it's been enough for now and reminding them this was their daughters' food supply, not for their horny snack times.

#rabbitt answers #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #lip gallagher #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #lip gallagher x reader #gallzatto x reader #lip gallagher smut #carmen berzatto smut

[aphroditesbaby1616]

The Bear & His Honey Chapter 3

Inspo: Quote - “All the lights couldn’t put out the dark that’s running through my heart ”  Summary: (18+ ONLY FIC!!!) Winnie & Richie meet for the first time, have a conversation about their love for Taylor Swift over a cigarette while Carmen fights through a panic attack in his office. W/C: 3,000 A/N: Oh my WORD!! I am so excited for this chapter, I hope you all like it!! I’m hoping my Carmy and Richie are doin’ it for ya! I’m feeling this pacing for the moment, but I promise there will be a time jump at some point. I just want to have the relationships build a little and have you guys get to know Winnie outside of who she is with Carmy!!  Warnings for BTC: Abuse (Verbal, Emotional, Physical), Swearing, Self Harm, Cigarettes, Mentions of alcohol, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Disassociation, Negative self talk, bad coping skills. (0 smut though, wow!!) 

𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!

Chapter 2 Here!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Don’t worry missy, mommy isn’t forgetting about you” I brush my hand over my cat, Persephone’s, supple fluffy white tail. “Jus’ give me a second ok?” I leaned into the mirror, finishing applying a mauve lip liner to the edges of my lips before filling them in with gloss. I give myself one final lookover, smoothing down my pale, buttercup-colored cardigan. I look like I should be freezing my ass off, but thanks to my fleece-lined nude tights- I am warm as can be. 

I head into the kitchen, Persephone weaving in and out of my legs as she usually did getting a giggle out of me. “Poor starving fluffy baby mm’?” I coo, grabbing her dish from the cabinet and emptying one of her favorite shrimp-flavored Friskies lil’ soups into the bowl, and setting it down for her. She dives right in and I scratch her head lovingly. “There, that is your bedtime snack ok? You got it early, so when it’s really time for bed later, don’t try and tell me I forgot somethin’ yea?” I go grab my ‘purse’ from the bedroom which was just the tote I’d gotten at Taylor Swift's concert a few months ago, as well as my white pleather platform boots, and sit in the entry hall, putting them on. 

I look at myself once more in the hall mirror, adjusting the white bow tying back my long locks that I’d curled. “Love y’ baby, Mama be home soon, be goods ok?” I called to Seph’ who was still chowing down in the kitchen. I slipped on my fur cape shawl-type garment over my shoulders and stepped out of my apartment. Locking my door, I headed back down a few blocks to The Bear. I put on my headphones as I walk, humming softly to the music blasting through them. 

As I approach the alleyway, I see light puffs of smoke coming out into the street. I hurried my pace, hoping it was Carmen out for a smoke before I showed up. But when I finally see around the corner, it's not Carmen, it’s some other man. Older, wearing a brown leather jacket. He nods in my direction and his lips move, his voice completely drowned out by the music that was still blasting in my ears. I pull my headphone away from my ear lightly “Sorry, wha’dya say?” I asked, taking them off and putting them in my bag.  

“I asked if you were in your Fearless Era? Nice sweater” he said and I smiled wide. “Shut up- you listen to Taylor Swift?” I walked up to him, leaning a few feet away on the brick wall. “Hell yeah! My daughter loves her, you saw the show too?” He takes another drag of his cigarette and I smile with an enthusiastic nod. “Mmhmm!!” I say proudly “Can you believe She played Death By A Thousand Cuts and Mad Woman?! Those are like, my favorites from those albums!” 

He blows the smoke past me and nods with a smile. “It really was fuckin’ fantastic. Broad puts on such a crazy show it was fire.” I looked closer and realized he was wearing chef's clogs “D’ you work here?” I questioned. Another nod “My cus’ owns it. You been?” He asked and my eyes widened before I let out a laugh, a real laugh. 

“I’m here for - for him!! Actually. He umm..invited me for a drink.” I said a shy smile dancing on my lips and my cheeks heating slightly.

“Holy shit” he laughs. “Holy fuckin’ shit” he shakes his head in disbelief. “What?” I giggle. “He has a secret girlfriend or somethin’?” I joked and that got another chuckle out of him. “No, no. Absolutely not- I just am- in shock and awe.” He snorts, taking another drag. 

“Why’s that? Am I ugly or somethin’?” I teased “oh no no quite the opposite actually, surprised he was able to talk to you. Kid gets all quiet around pretty girls.” I shrugged. “Hes….shy. But very funny.” I added. “Funny? Wow. I can’t wait to tell Sug’ t’morrow. Wait so how did you- how did he ask you out?” He questioned.

 I took a deep breath, a sheepish smile on my face “ok, so- he didn’t - he did ask, but he did it by making me ask. He was like ‘oh so you only go out with guys that have xyz’ and I was like ‘no you askin’ me out player?’ And he was like ‘nope but we can go out’ he’s such a dork” I smile at my feet and he snorts a laugh, rubbing his chin like Carmen does. 

“Yeee’ that’s Carmen’s style. He's very indirect- with girls that is. With family though- god. He’s too honest most of the time” I look back up at him. “So… how does this whole thing work, like- so Carmen is your cousin, and who is Sugar?” I asked “oh, yeah Sugars my cousin too, but she’s Carmy’s big-sis. That’s why if you decide to start comin’ ‘round more often don’t be surprised if you see her bossin’ him around even though he’s technically the boss” I giggle a bit. 

“Ohh no I saw it already. She’s- she can be scary. But she’s very pretty, so that makes up for it. She came in tellin’ him off about cups earlier” I said and he chuckles “Yeah. She was the torment today, it’s usually Carmen but he was ok for the most part. Except at the end of the day, oh! Shit!! Oh my god you” he said and I looked at him, confused. “Me?” I question, pointing at my chest. “You. Yeah you. That’s why he was sooo fuckin’ dead set on hauling everyone’s asses out the door at 9:40. Oh and that’s why he had Marcus deep clean the bar. I see.” He took another drag of his cigarette. A heat brushed my cheeks.

 Is he nervous to see me? 

I take my bottom lip between my teeth in thought. “How’d you meet?” He asked, bringing me back. My gaze meets his again, “ah- we met today? Actually? Well, I think I’ve seen him like- around, because I’ll take walks on my breaks so he’s probably been out smoking. But I was gonna come by the restaurant for lunch and he was in need of a light so, I gave him one. And then he found I work at the bookstore and figured that means I’m smart or something and with his pretty eyes he just… managed to rope me into editing your dessert menu” I said and he laughed. 

“That’s one thing about Carm’ this place?” He taps the brick with his finger “Is him, he will do anything to make something perfect about it. So I guess consider yourself smart since he trusted you to even suggest he does anything differently. That’s so much trust with him, he must really like you” he said and I blushed, my eyes meeting my boots again. 

Really like you. 

“So are all you Berzattos this charming, or is it just you and Carm?” I teased and he laughed, his head falling back “Oh, I like you” he pats my arm before stomping out the butt of his cigarette. “Here, you don’t have to walk all the way around - let me just let you in the kitchen” he dug keys out of his pocket, unlocking the large metal door. “Just realized, never got your name.” He said, opening the door and holding it ajar with his foot. 

“Winnie” I reply, and held out my hand. He shakes it, his hands were cold from the weather but his touch was gentle. “Richie” he said and I looked into the hall that leads into the kitchen, my heart beginning to hammer in my chest. “Well I’ll leave you kids at it. No fuckin’ in the kitchen it’s spotless “ he said, breaking the tension in my chest and earning a laugh from me. “No promises, know where he is?” I asked and he nodded with his chin down the hall “2nd door on the right, his office. He’s probably finishing up paperwork n’ shit.” He said and I gently kissed his cheek on my way through the door, a friendly gesture. 

“It was very nice to meet you, Richie.” I said sweetly, his cheeks were bright red. “You too, Winnie. Hopefully we see you around more- Carm can use the attitude adjustment you gave ‘em this afternoon a little more often.” He joked and my cheeks were the ones that now felt hot to the touch. 

He actually listened to what I’d said about being good. 

I nod “I’ll work on it” I said and he nodded with a smile, “night.” He said “g’night! Be safe!” I replied as he shut the door. 

The kitchen was completely silent, the only sound was the buzzing of the lights. It was literal night and day. The bookstore was always quiet unless we were doing story time for littles, and at night it was just as quiet. 

“Carmen?” I called out, my heels clicking as I made my way down the hall. “Hellooo? Hello hello?” I called, hoping he’d open up the office door. My heart picks up again, I feel it in my throat. Pounding, booming. I try to swallow the thick thumping, but it doesn’t help. I hear a hard thump against Carmen’s office door, causing my eyebrows to furrow. 

I get up to it, leaning in and I hear Carmen breathing, heavy and uncontrolled. I speak up, trying to find my confidence. He had invited me here. He wants me here. 

He trusted you to even suggest he does anything differently. That’s so much trust with him, he must really like you…

Richie’s words of encouragement bounce around in my mind. 

I took a deep breath, gently tapping on the door with my French tip. 

“Carmen? Carrrm? Ya’ in there? Hellooooo? I hear you breathing in there… Ok, well guess what- I just met your cousin Richie, and apparently? He listens to Taylor Swift too. So, unless you open up this door? I’ll like- totally go right back out there and flirt with him - and, you’ll positively 100% lose your super-duper smokin’ hot date to your awesome, super friendly cousin-“ 

Carm POV;

**10 minutes before Winnie shows up**

I lean against the office door, eyes screwed shut, so tightly my forehead was beginning to cramp up as my hand shakes uncontrollably next to me, my wrist cracking with every violent flick. I was desperately trying to feel something, but my entire body was numb. My chest heaves up and down rapidly, tears burning my eyes and I roughly rub over my forehead and cheeks. Clawing at my hair and pulling tightly, to feel something, anything at all. “Fuckin - get it together, fuck!” I muttered, desperate, my nails digging into my forearm so hard that if I had any mind to me at this moment, I’d realize I was drawing blood. She would be here any second, the first - first girl, the only girl I have ever had the balls to ask out, and of course one of these - these - episodes.. Just had to come on - right now. I bump my head against the door in a futile attempt to ground myself, but it doesn’t work. I still feel fucking nothing. 

All of a sudden, per usual to this bullshit- I’m transported back to New York, to Noma, in the bathroom, hurling my guts up before my regular night shift. The pang in my stomach though, was merciful compared to the fucking hell on earth that place was.

 Then, I was on line, making Julianne cuts to a carrot for the 3rd time since the previous 2 were ‘obviously done by a blind ape’, or ‘disgustingly amateur’ as per what I can only presume is the words of the demonic human incarnate of every, single, sin, in any life, I’ve ever fucking lived, coming back in this one to haunt me in to my grave. 

 “You fucking stupid sack of shit” he seeths in my ear. “You are pure shit. Hear me? You are nothing motherfucker, you are a fucking shitstain on my name. I swear, at this rate? You get outta’ here? You are done, Hear me? DONE!!!” he barks in my ear so vociferous that it circumscribes the furthest corners of my mind, my knife slipping when I twitch slightly at the pain of the volume in my ear and it shreds into my skin, deep. 

I hissed at the sting before the fire of pain, my hand jerking away on instinct and dropping the knife. It clattered to the floor loudly and before I could react he grabbed the collar of my whites brutely, dragging me somewhere, my feet stumbling and tripping over each other as he towed me like a ragdoll, before he was violently throwing me to the floor of the bathroom in a pathetic, bleeding heap. “Fucking pussy” he growled, digging his chef's clog in my side just enough to knock the remaining wind out of my lungs. “Clean yourself up, pathetic moron. There's fucking work to be done, or did you overlook that? You slothful, utterly useless, piece of garbage.” The door to the bathroom slams, and I’m left alone, my blood leaking into the tile. At least he didn’t spit on me this time. 

My first thought isn’t if I need stitches, or of the unbelievable pain coursing through my hand and wrist - of course not, why would I ever think of myself first? Instead, it’s of the fact that my blood pool has already grown so large that it’s leaking into the grout of the restroom floor. And if it stains with the remnants of my stupid mistake, I am fucked, done, and utterly screwed. I scramble up, wincing lightly as I try to take a breath, a sharp ache going through my left lung where his shoe had dug in. 

Suddenly, I’m ripped through the walls of space and time, the soft hum of the heater meeting my ears, as the sound of the sweetest voice I’d ever heard makes its way through the door, She’s here.

“Carmen? Carrrm? Ya’ in there? Hellooooo? I hear you breathing in there… Ok, well guess what- I just met your cousin Richie, and apparently? He listens to Taylor Swift too. So, unless you open up this door? I’ll like- totally go out there and flirt with him - and, you’ll positively 100% lose your super-duper smokin’ hot date to your awesome, super friendly cousin- I also brought my book since you were just sooo interested earlier. Maybe you can take some tips from the bat-boys for your flirting skills, handsome.” 

Her voice was like a tether, gently tugging me back into my body. It’s as if my soul snaps back into my physical self all at once, her words ringing through my mind like soothing white noise, not registering a single thing she’s saying, but relishing in the fact my feet were on the ground, and I was beginning to be able to feel them there again. I try to find focus on the sound of her sweet, sweet voice.

My face finally relaxes, and I force my eyes open. I’m back- Back at the bear. I let out a shaking sigh of relief, my entire body was trembling. Blood felt like it was pooling back into every one of my limbs in a tsunami. I suddenly felt so heavy, like I could just sink into the floor in a heap and die there.

“J-J-J” I stutter out, biting down on my cheek so hard I felt a sting of pain and the taste of metal filled my mouth, so embarrassed that I’m succumbing to my old habits, especially in front of her. Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, finding my head, find your head, find it, find it Carmen. 

I inhaled so deeply it felt for a moment like my lungs could pop like balloons, before focusing all of my energy into letting out the breath as controlled and light as I could, which finally centered me enough to be able to find my tongue. “Just One sec. M’ sorry” I managed to get out, rubbing over my face roughly to get rid of the remnants of any stray tears, before wiping my hands on my shirt and turning to open the door. 

Before my mind and my….brain? Could process my actions, I was pulling the door open, pulling her into my chest, and nuzzling my face into her neck. I held her to me tightly, as if we were hanging off the very edge of the earth, and she was my only tether to reality. I took a deep breath, my knees feeling weaker at the intoxicating scent of her, Jasmine, rose, orange? Maybe grapefruit…and…Honey.  

“Thank y’ for comin’, Winnie, I need a fuckin’ drink, now.” I mutter quietly into her supple skin.

Read Chapter 4 Here!

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