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writers-hes · 9 months

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tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

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I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect.

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history.

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry.

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls.

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you?

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you?

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you.

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt.

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper.

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly.

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,”

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them.

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly.

“Fuck,”

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,”

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom.

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,”

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good.

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?”

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away.

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did.

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go.

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go.

Isn’t this what lovers do?

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on.

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else.

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there.

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was.

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked.

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?”

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him.

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling.

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing.

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?”

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself.

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding.

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him.

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed.

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine.

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney.

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily.

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle.

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go.

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down.

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned.

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him.

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…”

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say?

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you.

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old.

He’s been doing good—perfect.

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand?

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway.

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright.

He was alright.

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter.

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.”

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station.

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,”

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright.

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #smut #fluff #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto smut

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nolita-fairytale · 8 months

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what it would be like meeting mikey berzatto as the most important person in carmy's life:

a/n: ok so it is in fact canon in my 'make my heart surrender' series that the main character never got to meet mikey. however, i've been thinking a lot about what it would be like if she had met him when she and carmy were working together in new york so i wrote a lil somethin' about it. it can absolutely be read as a standalone piece with a pastry!chef reader.

takes place october 2021; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

trigger warnings: drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression

how you end up meeting mikey:

halloween weekend of 2021. mikey ends up in new york city for the weekend because he followed a weekend fling for a party. they got into a huge fight over who knows what, and he finds himself in new york city, figuring he might as well go see his brother.

it's a busy night at the new-york-city-fine-dining-establishment-that-shall-not-be-named, carmy is knee deep in expediting while the pastry side just happens to be overstaffed.

your general manager, kate, comes in, letting them know that there's a man outside who's asking for carmy. "he says he's your brother." "my brother?" while carmy doesn't think he can step away, in one shared look, you decide to go since you're his best friend -- the only one he trusts to handle it anyways.

you head out to the front of the restaurant to address the situation finding michael standing outside of the restaurant, pacing on the sidewalk. you recognize him from photos, but he looks different, and it's not hard to figure out that he's kind of strung out -- high on something, though you're uncertain of what.

"you're not carm." "no, i'm not. sorry, but carmy couldn't come out. so he sent me." "shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" "i don't think he was expecting you." you watch as michael's eyebrows rise in reaction to your comment. "he would if he could. it's just... we're doing 400 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so." disappointedly, as if he's accepted that he's not going to see carmy after all, he says, "yeah yeah okay... i didn't know i'd be here either. i just, i -- i gotta catch a flight anyways. will you let him know that mikey stopped by?" "of course."

by the time you get back in the kitchen, you want to protect carmy from the state michael was in so you don't mention the fact that he was high. "what did he want?" "just wanted to stop by. i think he uh... found himself in the city. surprise trip or something." but carmy doesn't completely buy it, instead, focuses, head down on finishing dinner service.

at the end of the night, carmy offers to walk you home, so the two of you head out of the restaurant, eager to unwind from a long night. as you're leaving, michael's still waiting outside of the restaurant and he doesn't look great -- looks like he's coming down from whatever you assume he took.

"michael, what're you doing here?" carmy asks, in shock that he's even here in the first place. "thought i'd come surprise you." "i mean, what're you doing here? in new york?" mikey sighs, a smirk on his face as he answers with: "never trust chicks on motorcycles, carm. they'll leave you high and dry in a brooklyn loft for a few good lines of coke. he chuckles. and while he doesn't exactly find it funny, carmy makes his best effort to try and laugh too, it coming out more like a dry exhale. mikey pivots, as if he's putting on a well-practiced happy face, though there's a sadness in your eyes that you think may haunt you for the rest of your life.

"i'm sorry. where the fuck are my manners? i'm mikey. mikey berzatto. i'm this jagoff's brother." you introduce yourself, and mikey's enthusiastically corralling you to grab a drink with him. carmy keeps looking over at you as if he's checking in, trying to get a read on you as he hesitates to answer. cautiously, you agree, wanting carmy to spend time with his brother. "one drink," he warns mikey.

the three of you make your way to a bar across the street that's open late, and as soon as michael has his first drink, it's like he's a completely different person. he's charming, larger than life, quite the storyteller and you see a side of carmy that you've never seen before. as you watch him listen to his brother, you can see just how much he admires his older brother. while you know carmy is hurt that michael barely calls or makes an effort to keep in touch, sitting here with him now, you can see the way that carmy looks at him -- like he put the stars, the moon, and the sun in the sky. there's a deep admiration and he's almost childlike in the way that he looks up to him.

after the first round, you head to bathroom, wanting to give him and mikey the time. carmy had promised one drink, but you're open to staying if he wants more time with his brother.

"this your girl, carm" "mikey, stop it." "then please tell me you're hittin' that." "michael!" carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice as he does. "are you fuckin' serious right now? what, you're teling me you're not?" "she's.... my friend." "shit. wish i had a friend like that. ya friends or are ya... you know... friends?" carmy just shakes his head, jaw clenched, glaring at michael, wishing he'd stop. "shit, i thought i taught you better than that, bear." "just friends. i'm serious, mike. cut it out." "oh come on! the chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. and i can tell that you like her. i'm not blind, bear. i see the way you-."

it's that sentence that pushes carmy in a way that he doesn't like at all. "don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life." "carm-." "can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?" "well, if you ever bothered to come home. you know mom's been askin' about you. never fuckin' call her-." "oh don't bring mom into this!"

when you return from the bathroom, there is a palpable tension between the two of them that you're not sure how to navigate the thick silence stewing with things left unsaid.

"everything okay?" you ask.

"i think we should go," carmy grits out, clearly upset over the conversation that just transpired between them. "uh... yeah, okay." "it was nice meetin' you sweetheart," mikey grunts, an empty shot glass that wasn't there previously on the bar top. carmy noticeably rolls his eyes at mikey's comment as you grab your things and close out your tab.

on the walk home, you ask: "you wanna talk about it?" "not really," carmy answers. he's quiet on the way home and you can tell whatever was said between the two of them really hurt him. as you finally get to your place, carmy sighs, as if he's ready to get something off his chest. "thank you. for doing that." "for what?" "for comin' along. even though it like... colossally blew up." "you ever gonna tell me what happened?" he shrugs, "i don't know." "okay... well, while i wait for you to burst like a pressure cooker, then inevitably spill the beans," you begin, and he smiles, because you know him too well. "wanna come up for a movie or something? get your mind off of it? it's halloween. maybe i'll even let you talk me into a scary movie this time." you finish asking him. and it's the moment that carmy realizes that you're such a breath of fresh air, especially in contrast with his earlier encounter with mikey. "uh.. yeah. think i'd like that."

the two of you go up to your place, put on a movie, and end up falling asleep on the couch together, only to pretend the next morning that it's not that big of a deal (it is, in fact, a HUGE deal).

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aestheticaltcow · 2 months

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Social Media Manager : The Series

I have too many ideas and want to incorporate CANVA media (I fully blame @thebearsoc; I am obsessed with their account and feel inspired.) so it's gonna be a series...

Introductions and Donuts

“There she is… lookin’ good, Rusty.” Marcus grinned as you followed him into the kitchen of The Bear, “Thanks, Markie.” you laughed. “Be careful, technically shouldn’t be lettin’ you back here.” “I don’t think your boss’ll care.” he shrugged, “I don’t know… Carmy’s in a weird mood.”

You stood by Marcus’s station as he went to the walk-in to grab the dessert he’d made you for a friend’s bachelorette party. “Oh, hi…” an unfamiliar woman greeted. You looked up from your phone and smiled, “Hey! I’m Y/N- Marcus’s friend… I think he only refers to me as Rusty.” you stuck your hand out. She nodded and shook your hand, “I’m Syd. He’s told me about you.” “Hopefully, only the bad stuff.” you joked, making her chuckle awkwardly. “He’s told me about you but failed to say how pretty you were. Like he said you were but like- did you no justice.” Syd blushed at the compliment, and Marcus came back to his station. “Yo Chef, this is-” “I introduced myself, Markie.” you cut him off, taking the white pastry box from him. Marcus swallowed, knowing you’d said something to embarrass him.

Carmy walked toward the back entrance as you walked out with Marcus. He bumped into you, resulting in you stumbling and almost dropping your box. “Oh shit,” Carmy said, catching the box before it fell out on the ground, “Sorry bout that…” Carmy swallowed when your eyes met. You smiled, “You saved my donuts; don’t stress it.” he nodded, hoping you didn’t notice the sudden flush of his cheeks. You did, but you figured he was embarrassed enough for one day. “Hey Carmy, this is my friend Rusty- I made her some donuts for a bachelorette party-” “Not mine. Maid of honor.” you clarified as you looked Carmy up and down. He was your every weakness. You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed his blush had extended to the tips of his ears. He nodded, “Cool… Did you finish the, uh, the cake?” Carmy asked, turning his attention to Marcus. “I did. I’m just gonna walk Rusty to her car.”

“So Carmy…” you started as you and Marcus approached your car. Marcus chuckled “Remember Mikey?” you shrugged at his question. “I think so…” “Carmy is his younger brother. Big-time New York chef took over The Beef after Mikey died and turned it into The Bear… he’s quiet but cool.” Marcus laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, he’s cute. If y'all need help with Instagram or something, hit me up.” Marcus nodded. “Of course, Rusty. Tell Mandy I said hey.” you set the donuts in the passenger’s seat before quickly hugging Marcus. “Of course. Love you.” “Be safe. Love you too.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #marcus the bear #sydney the bear #the bear hulu

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thebearer · 9 months

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just thinking about carmy x shy reader who used to have the biggest crush on him when they went to school!! and carmy thought she liked mikey !

oh my god i can totally see him and now i can only think of two ghosts by harry styles ahhhh. little fluff blurb ahead for the soul <3

they go to prom together, their senior year just as friends. carmy bc donna is making him, and you... bc carmy asked you out lol. mikey set the whole thing up, he knew how much you likes carm. you were always coming over and following carmen around like a lost puppy. mikey felt bad for you, sorta, felt bad that you were so hopelessly in love with his oblivious younger brother.

carmen moved to new york and you stayed in chicago, only to reconnect years later at none other than mikey's funeral. carmen looked bad, sad and distant, but there was a glimmer of his old self when he talked to you. familiar. good.

it was a challenge, pushing yourself into the life of carmen berzatto again. two old friends catching up over coffee, first. then going to a ghost tour, because mikey used to swear it was the most entertaining shit (swore he'd see uncle jimmy on there eventually too lol). you'd help him at the beef when he'd call, helplessly needing assistance fixing some odd appliance. he'd make you greasy italian sandwiches and you'd spilt them sitting at the sticky booths, reminiscing.

it wasn't until weeks later, when things started to take a turn for the best. when carmen realized that "oh shit she's like into me into me???" he'd kissed you that night, in your apartment living room. it was rushed and a little sloppy. he'd blushed so hard after that, stammering and nervous in the low light of the room. you'd only grinned, pulling him back in.

"i- fuck- i didn't want to-to come across like that. i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i... it felt- i don't know, i'm sorry." carmen is a stuttering mess, feeling his heart rate rise and like he might throw up at any given second.

"why are you sorry? i liked it, carmy, c'mon." you just give him a sideways, lopsided grin.

"what? are you- are you fuckin' with me right now? don't... you liked it?"

"of course i liked it. sophomore me is shitting herself right now."

"in a good way?"

you laugh, nodding. "in a very good way. c'mon, bear, don't fuck with me right now." you glare at him playfully. "you don't have to act like you didn't know i was in love with you."

"what?" carmen's eyes bulging tells you otherwise. "you-you... no, you didn't like me. you liked mikey."

"mikey?" you repeat. "carmen... i liked mikey because, i mean he was mikey, everyone liked mikey. but i had a crush on you."

carmen wasn't sure what to say, heart pounding hard in his throat, strangling the words. "really?"

you nodded, grinning gently. "i mean, you were too obsessed with claire bear to notice-"

"-oh, c'mon. don't do that." carmen cringed shaking his head.

"you did!" you laughed, jabbing his chest lightly. "you'd always talk to her in math and sketch all those pictures." you tried not to sound as hurt as your fifteen year old self had been. how you'd cried into your pillow when you found them. how you tried to make yourself look just like claire, act like her too so maybe carmen might notice you.

carmen blushed, looking down at his shoes. "well, i, uh... if it makes you feel any better. i-i was drawin' you too, ya know." he couldn't look at you, blushing positively boyishly at the admission.

it was silly. so silly and so sweet and it shouldn't have made you feel the way you did, but it did. you kissed him, two hands on the side of his cheeks, tumbling back on the sofa with him. a long, overdue kiss.

the next day, carmen asked you to come by the beef, telling you there was something that got dropped off for you while trying to figure out bills.

you opened the envelope to find a faded, crumpled piece of notebook paper, the light etchings of you on it with the algebra homework from mr. weir's junior year class.

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mrscarmenbearzatto · 1 month

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promise me? | carmen berzatto

rating: | cw: mentions of mikey’s death/funeral, a few timeskips, afab/fem!reader, angst/fluff content, unfinished ending i guess (i’m so down to write a part two if yall ask for it tbh)

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request: “a more angsty idea would be that reader was dating Michael and no one knew she was pregnant when he died… so in order to avoid making their family sad/starting conflict, carmy agrees to pretend that they’re dating and it’s his kid? “

Since the funeral four months ago, your world had felt.. emptier.

Michael Berzatto was your everything. He was the boy in high school who threw rocks at your window, who climbed inside to make out with you on your bed until he fell asleep holding you close, only sneaking out to avoid your parents learning about his visits.

He was the guy who would make a big deal out of every small accomplishment. He was the person who you planned on spending the rest of your life with.

That was until everything happened. One phone call from the Chicago Police Department, and your entire view of the future had been shifted. There was one less person in it.

You didn’t talk to his family much anymore. His younger brother, Carmen, was the only person you really kept in touch with. You called Sugar every so often, and you’d send Donna a check-in text every week or so.

You knew Carmy was in New York, and he hadn’t come to the funeral. You weren’t expecting to see him again until he showed up on your doorstep.

The one thing he wasn’t expecting? You to open the door, tears in your eyes and a pregnancy test in your clenched hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” is the first thing Carmen says. He wraps his arms around you, trying to soothe you in anyway he can. A slight head shake from you and you taking a step back, holding the test out for him to see.

“I’m pregnant. The one person I should be able to tell.. isn’t fucking here.” Your soft voice breaks his heart. It’s the rush of realization that comes first.

The fact that, you’re pregnant with Mikey’s baby.

And Mikey is dead.

“Y/N, we can.. we’ll figure this out.” He promises in a whisper, and you shake your head, more tears streaming. “How?! How am I supposed to do this by myself?” You ask, and you fall into Carmen’s arms, crying on his shoulder. He could care less about the tear stains on his white tee.

If Mikey were here, if there was a way to talk to his dead brother right now, he know what he’d say: “take care of her. Take care of my baby for me.”

“You aren’t alone. You have me.” He swears.

It’s what his brother would want.

“Promise me?” You request quietly. And he nods, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I promise.” He repeats.

──

You knew bringing up the pregnancy to Mikey’s family would be.. rough. Sugar and Donna would be upset, with Donna resenting every choice you make.

It would be chaos. So, you kept it a secret, which was harder than it seemed.

You and Carmen had it planned out. To start “dating” two months later, and lie about the timeline of your pregnancy. No one had to know other than you two.

You and Carmen announced your pregnancy to the Berzatto clan three months later, seven months after Mikey died. All of it felt rushed and you found yourself having to force yourself to slow down.

Thankfully, though, Carmen was by your side through it all. Moving in with you and helping set up the nursery, which you made sure to send photos of to Natalie and Donna.

You were there for him when he took over the Beef. It was a while before you found the strength to go back there again, reminiscing on the times you spent in there with Mikey. Him flirting with you as you volunteered your time behind the counter.

Once you had, you found yourself in the same spot you were nearly a year ago. Laughing with Tina and Marcus, threatning jerks with Richie. Even making friends with the new chef, Sydney.

Carmen thought it was good for you. He found himself smiling in the back office as he heard your familiar, light laughter and calming voice.

“You were deeply missed!” Marcus says as he hugs you while you laugh. “So, how’s pregnancy going?” Tina asks as you sigh. “It is a bitch sometimes. But this little one will be worth it.”

“Can I just say.. thank you for bringing a smile to my brother’s face. Seriously. He hasn’t been this happy in a while.” Natalie says as you nod. “It isn’t just me. You guys play a huge part in that.”

“Yeah kid but none of us are having his baby.” Marcus points out. “I should hope not.” You reply, and that’s when the kitchen fills with laughter.

It felt like you were at home again. Carmen wasn’t the only one smiling again.

──

You stood in the nursery, your bump larger. It felt surreal to believe how far you’d come.

You were in your third trimester, 38 weeks pregnant. The nursery looked gorgeous, with a shelf close to the door holding photos from the maternity photoshoot you and Carmen did as well as sonograms pictures.

You wanted to memorialize Mikey in the room as well. A frame sits on the shelf near the sonogram, containing a photo of Natalie, Carmen and Mikey as kids.

You run a hand over Mikey’s spot in the photo, shaking your head and setting it on the shelf. “I remember the day that photo was taken. Mike hated that shirt. That was the only good photo that our mom decided to keep.” Natalie says, entering the room with a glass of water for you.

You accept it, only to nearly drop the glass when a tightening in your stomach forms. It’s at that moment you realize - your water broke, you’re having contractions and.. you’re in labor.

It’s a frenzy from there. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You waddling-running out to the car, Natalie following behind with the bags while you begin calling Carmen’s phone repeatedly. Time feels like it’s slowed.

It isn’t until you’re at Chicago Medical and being wheeled down the hallway to your labor and delivery room that you realize two things:

1. You’re actually having this baby.

2. Mikey won’t be here to see it.

Some part of you, the part that hasn’t been hitten by the grief yet and the same part that won’t accept he’s gone, is now being hit with the grief. The realization he won’t just come into the room and come back into the room or your life again. It doesn’t rush over you, it drowns you instead.

Maybe it was just the pregnancy excitement and rush. Things hadn’t felt real since the funeral and now? Now they were forcing themselves to be accepted. Forcing you to realize that this is occuring.

It isn’t until you’re alone in the room that you allow the tears to break free. Your vision feels blurred as your heart aches for a man whose gone. One who isn’t here anymore and you can’t change that.

The sight that Carmy finds in the hospital room hurts his heart. It’s quiet, the beeping of monitors that are keeping an eye on your vitals, the baby’s vitals, contractions is the only noise filling the room. You’re seated upright, your eyes exhausted.

“Hi. How are you?” He asks softly as he walks over. He hesitantely puts a hand on your face to brush some of the hair away, and you allow it. You sigh, your face relaxing when he cradles your face like you’re the most precious thing.

“It hit me.” You say softly. “I let myself grieve for a week before his funeral, and then at least three afterward. And then I found out I was pregnant and I bottled it up because I couldn’t do it anymore. And now it hit me again. That I’m having his baby and he’s not going to get to meet him, or her.” Your fists clench at the anger of it.

There are five known stages of grief. Denial, anger, barganing, depression and acceptance. You were on the second stage: anger.

There’s nothing Carmen can say. No words to make it all better, he knows that from his own experience and people trying with him. So, instead, he stays quiet and he lets you get it out.

You exhale, laying back with his help as he props a pillow for you. “Thank you for being here.” You say softly as he takes your hand in his, entertwining your fingers. “I made a promise to be here with you through all of this.”

He intends to keep that promise.

──

‘Roan Michael Berzatto’. Eight pounds, six ounces. Born at 11:37 AM.

Most of the labor process felt like a blur. You remember crying, a lot, and Carmen holding your hand and letting you squeeze while you push, doctors and nurses overlapping each other as they speak to you. Sweat pooling on your forehead as a nurse wiped it away.

Roan looks like Mikey. He has his eyes, his nose, even the same small smile when he sleeps. It’s faint, but it’s there.

His entire hand wraps around Carmen’s pinky while he holds him. There’s a warm aura in the room, the sunlight filling the room perfectly.

You sit, watching them. Carmy walks over and sits beside you on the bed while he puts your son on his legs, as you look down at him. “He really does look like Mike.” You say softly, and Carmen laughs.

There’s a quiet in the air before he speaks again. “I love you.” He says softly. “I know maybe this isn’t the right time to tell you that, but I had to. We agreed to tell everyone this is our son and I want to keep that up, but I want more for us. I want you and I to.. be something more.”

You don’t say anything more, instead you lean over and press your lips against his, letting yourself embrace him. To take in what it feels like to kiss him, be this close to him.

Your world was suddenly full again.

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: the bear #mae has mail! 💌#mae’s inbox #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfiction

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talleyuh · 5 months

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honestly, i think that richie noticed that there was something going on between syd and carmy but was in denial.

richie, the faks, the berzattos, claire, that entire community has such a small town mindset. obviously chicago is not a small town, but all of the grew up there and intended on staying there through adulthood. richie had his kid in chicago, sugar is about to have a baby, and both of them will have only experienced chicago. claire still hangs out with the same people from high school.

carmy is a standout because he did the hard thing of moving to new york and living there. and people teased him for it. for them, cooking is a hobby, not a career. mikey and richie made jokes about carmy being a big shot chef while they were still running the beef in chicago.

like everyone else, claire has no desire to leave and explore. but sydney does, which is something that carmy has. i’ve been thinking about what possible passions or personality quirks claire had and there was none. her entire character is just a girl that richie, mikey, and carmy knew from high school.

sydney shows a glimmer of what his new life is. she didn’t know him before— she knows him now. she sees him as “carmy” not “bear”. she sees him for who he is not who he was. she sees him as the best chef in the world, her partner, her friend. she doesn’t belittle his accomplishments just because she doesn’t understand them. obviously two people with wildly different interests can be in a relationship, but they have to connect over something. they have to mutually choose to be with one another. carmy didn’t choose claire, she chose him and overstepped boundaries. syd never does that. she lets carmy be in control of their disagreements, which he needs. she’s nonconfrontational but he meets her halfway and always asks why. claire tells him what he did wrong and he over apologizes to make it go away.

claire as a character is nostalgia, a distant memory, the safe option. carmy as a character is constantly taking risks professionally and personally. the safe option— in chicago, what’s familiar, doesn’t work for him. he’s moved beyond it and just hasn’t realized it.

the whole point of graduating high school is growing up and moving on. meeting knew people, self discovery, and learning about the world. maybe richie (and mikey lowkey) is so immature at first because he never left chicago. he never got the chance to grow up and grow out of his life there. and it wasn’t until his stint in new york in season two where he got to mature and become one of my favorite characters on the show.

#the bear fx #anti claire bear #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #sydcarmy #chefs kiss #richie jerimovich

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moments-on-film · 9 months

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Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet

I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve come to the conclusion that Carmen doesn’t really know who he is. He doesn’t know himself enough to know what actually makes him happy. This impacts how he views himself, how he sees himself in relation to other people, and it also helps explain why his life feels so empty, why he has no answer when asked questions, including “what is fun for you?”

In the group session in S2E3, Carmy shares,

“I think when I was a kid, anything that would give me any sort of excitement or amusement or enjoyment, it always got kind of f-d.”

What I took from this is that he used to have things that he was passionate and excited about, maybe even things he found fun, made him laugh, brought him joy, and they got ruined, by his family. He likely didn’t start out in life with the outlook he has now. Life, and the abuse and trauma he has survived taught him to repress his true feelings, not express himself, and not communicate his needs and desires, for fear of what would happen if he did.

We know that Carmy is an artist, in more ways than one. Carmy is an artist through the food he creates. In S1E8, he describes how he felt that by cooking he could “communicate through creativity”, which must have been an incredible self discovery for him. Unfortunately, it appears that is the only creative discovery about himself he has been able to act on. His latent artistic talents include a connection to clothing and the ability to draw beautiful, realistic sketches of food and people (from what we have been shown so far). I believe art was Carmy’s first, true passion but it has been beaten out of him.

In S2E6, in the first scene between him and his mom, Carmy is helping in the kitchen and his mother brings up Steven. She says to Carmy, “Is cousin Michelle’s friend Steven, is he gay? Steven, is he gay? I mean he seems kind of gay. You know, he’s arty.”

This raised a HUGE red flag for me upon first viewing. Donna is equating being arty with being gay, and with negative connotations. Now at this point in S2, we don’t yet know that Carmy used to draw Claire, or that he drew the framed sketch that he gives to Michael as a Christmas present of their dream restaurant, The Bear, (we find out both later in this episode), or that he drew the chaos menu he shows to Sydney in S2E8. All we know so far is that he used to draw (pants) in high school. In S2E5, Carmy tells Claire that after meeting who we now know was Thom Browne at his restaurant in New York, he said he felt like he “wanted to start drawing again.” Claire says, “the dream returned”, and Carmy looks down and looks so sad.

Maybe his initial dream really was to be an artist, but his mom, brother, and Richie all “giving him a hard time” about drawing, and probably being made fun of ruined it for him, so he repressed that side of himself, tamped it down, and denied what he was actually passionate about. What could have been a great source of joy and happiness is now associated with suppression and shame.

Carmy didn’t go to college. He didn’t get to try new things, take classes and discover new passions, meet new people, or expose himself to possibilities that life could offer. He didn’t have friends or girlfriends growing up. The only people (historically) he’s ever been around are family, who see him a certain way, and his various staff, which he manages and leads. Claire sees him a certain way because she knows his past and understands his (past) behavior. She tells him “you’re really shy”, not you were really shy or you used to be shy—no, she is speaking about his past in the present tense. All of this boxes Carmy in, behaviorally.

Carmy tells Claire he always wanted to have friends, so wistfully. At the party Claire takes him to in S2E5, he gets mistaken for someone else, Logan Fernello, but doesn’t correct the situation. He escapes into this alter ego and literally pretends to be someone else so he can have a conversation with a group of would be friends. The group of guys he’s talking to don’t know who he is and he uses this as an opportunity to reinvent himself. This scene really threw me the first time I saw it, not just because he’s telling a story to a rapt audience, but because in 13 episodes, he has never been this animated. It’s as if he’s channeling the best parts of what he loved about Michael in this moment. He’s never really allowed himself to make friends with new people and explore and expand certain aspects of his personality. Is he shy is this scene? Absolutely not. The moment ends when Claire comes over and steers him out of the situation, which made me think—How is Carmy supposed to explore new parts of himself around people from his past who have already made up their minds about who he is and how he’s supposed to behave?

Instead of going to college, where, among other things, he would have had new experiences and met new people, Carmy threw himself into work. He saw colleagues as competition and worked himself to the bone. He’s been a chef in Malibu, California, Napa Valley, California, Copenhagen, Denmark, and New York, New York, but Carmy never talks about his experiences in these locations unless it’s tied to work. Did he ever explore in these cities and locations and allow himself to have a good time?

Carmy’s empty apartment is also indicative of his suppressed emotions and personality. We know he has a great eye and talent for creativity and beauty, yet his apartment reflects none of this. There’s barely anything on the walls, apart from a few things in his room. There is no personality to be found. Everything is his apartment is to serve a function, but there is nothing sentimental, nostalgic, creative or reflective of his life experiences or travels on display.

In S2E1, Carmy has a moment alone in his empty apartment. It’s a quiet moment, but one of extreme unease. He simply does not know how to relax, how to just be. He plays with his pocket knife and opens his phone. This moment is notable because he essentially has no apps on his phone apart from the preloaded ones. No entertainment, no games, nothing personal. It’s as devoid of his personality as his apartment.

Carmy tells his sister in S1E6 that he feels trapped because he can’t describe how he’s feeling. I believe Carmy senses and feels things deeply, but he has a very hard time putting his emotions into words. I think this is why Carmy has such a talent for giving such sweet and thoughtful gifts. He listens, he pays attention, and he really considers what people need and want. A gift can say so much, and express deep emotion, without the need for words.

Carmy knows his knife will give Tina confidence at culinary school, and so, in the subtlest way possible, he gifts it to her. Sending Richie to stage with chef Terry was life changing. Carmy must have put a lot of thought into what Richie needs, and he gave him that experience from his heart. Even in S1E3, the small act of Carmy bringing Sydney a plate of food to eat because he thought she might be hungry, spoke volumes. His gift to her of the chef coat was a declaration of love because not only did he listen to her when she expressed interest in his, he customized it for her perfectly, down to the smallest detail.

When Carmy tells Sydney, “you’re not alone”, as he gives her this beautiful gift, there is an ocean of emotion, care, thought, consideration, respect, and yes, love, in those three words. It’s as if he can sense and feel exactly what her deepest fear is and he comforts her by essentially letting her know, “I see you, please don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I’ll watch over you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Even if I wasn’t before, I’m here for you now and I’m not leaving.” He might have to tamp down his feelings, needs and desires, and not put them into words, but he does not want Sydney to experience that same type of pain. This makes his “say more, please” line to get her to speak all the more sweet, tender, and poignant.

From what we have seen so far, Carmy has never been nurtured and never really been loved, unconditionally. To discover who you are, what moves, motivates, excites and enamours you, you have to have experiences, you have to be able to leap into the unknown. I don’t think he’s ever felt safe enough emotionally to explore and express parts of himself with freedom to discover who he is and what actually makes him happy.

I think so many of Carmy’s self identity struggles and mental health issues arise from the abuse he’s had to survive and the trauma he’s endured. It has made him shut down, close off, repress and stifle his urges, emotions, and passions. I also must add that what brings me hope for him is how he is able to express himself with honestly, vulnerability, care and tenderness with the new people in his life, but most importantly, with Sydney. She is not connected to his past, and I think together they could have a beautiful future. That future might not always be in the kitchen, but that is ok.

I really hope Carmy is on a journey of self discovery and into who he is and what brings him joy, peace and happiness. I hope he gets the professional help he needs and is able to untangle his suppressed, confused, internalized emotions, put words to feelings, and finally live life to the fullest. Most importantly, I hope he allows himself the grace to know himself, express himself, and truly love himself. When he does, I know his love for others will take on a whole new dimension of creativity and beauty, just like his art.

©️moments-on-film 2023

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 2 #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy

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etherealising · 12 days

Note

One more request/ask this time for aiekoy 🍑/🐻/🧡 could you write something on if baby and carm would get together if Mikey were still alive? Or just if they would cross paths and still never say anything? If you’re up to it if not no biggie- again congrats on 1k!🥳

ohhh i love this so much, giggling because i get to play with aiekoy cannon and i am living for it. gonna be honest i don’t even remember writing most of this but it is chaotic and i actually kinda love it.

this was going in so many different directions before this became my final thoughts, thank you for requesting and please enjoy!! 🫶🏽

warning(s): addiction | violence |

mikey lives, does barby?

in this scenario the only ‘aiekoy’ chapters that would still be canon are ch. 1-3, interlude 0-1 and any pre-aiekoy lore that i may not have published yet 🫣.

and for the sake of consistency, we’re throwing all ‘the bear’ canon out the window!

but now is where we start to change things, so we’ll say baby moves back to Chicago beginning of 2019 Christmas showed you just how much you missed being around your surrogate family and so we kiss the west coast goodbye.

and with baby back in town the trio (baby/nat/richie) with all the time they spend around mikey begin to realize like he needs serious help. his deterioration is so clear to anyone who looks at him that if things don’t change soon we all know what’s gonna happen.

it's a bit of back and forth cause mikey is stubborn as hell and he definitely doesn’t take kindly to his addiction being called out. man is feeling cornered right now.

i don’t think mikey would just agree to rehab out of nowhere, growing up as the man of the house i think he definitely has some underlying issues with toxic masculinity.

something big would have to happen for him to see the error of his ways like baby finding him just strung out in his office at the beef pills scattered everywhere and of course, it hurts you to see him this way.

so you begin like trying to dispose of the pills, searching his office for anything more and lecturing him because you love him ya know. obviously reasoning with an addict hardly if ever works.

sadly to say i think it would get a bit physically violent like mikey kind of just lashes out just like grips baby by the arms, and pins you to the wall so hard it alerts the staff.

and it's an ugly scene as richie pulls him off of you. you’re just standing there glued to the wall scared shitless as richie holds himself back from beating the shit out of mikey.

nat gets wind of the whole situation i feel like tina would definitely call her because wtf is going on with mikey?

a few weeks later baby’s distant with mikey, richie is genuinely physically disgusted anytime he’s around his best friend, and nat bless her heart is just trying to keep the family together. she explains what happened to mikey between the two of you because his memory is spotty and the man just breaks down like heaving sobs as he asks nat to help him get better.

they decide a long-term stint in rehab might work best, considering how long he’s been using and the toll his psychological state has taken we’ll say a 6 month program that as it progresses the whole gang will be involved in family counseling sessions.

baby and richie obviously go with nat to drop mikey off setting aside their issues with him (you obviously haven’t forgiven his transgression yet but you want to be there for him) and the whole thing is so emotional i’m talking group hug full of sobs and snot this shit is heartbreaking. but mikey’s adamant that he wants the help.

baby definitely thinks someone should tell carmy but both richie and nat are iffy about it and they table that conversation for the time being.

fast forward a few months mikey is in rehab detoxing and participating in counseling sessions, they aren’t allowed to contact him yet but they do get weekly updates on his well-being.

baby is in new york for work profiling executive chef alex johannes (he didn’t have a name in the show so now he does) about his work ethic and michelin stars or some shit.

he invites you to the restaurant hours before the dinner service so you can observe him and the kitchen during prep and this man is laying the charm on thick!

he’s definitely scummy and you’re genuinely fed up with him so you tell him you need to walk around to get a feel for the kitchen but you just want to be rid of him.

you’re doing your cute journalist thing taking notes, trying to talk to chefs about what the kitchen environment is like working under alex but these people are giving you nothing!

there’s a commotion at one of the prep stations and you’re obviously curious the whole kitchen is trying to pretend they aren’t watching this shit go down.

and you’re just listening to this poor chef get verbally abused as they’re working on their prep, jotting all this down in your little notepad.

but the sight of the chef slamming a cutting board against the counter has you flinching and you just can’t let that happen irritation radiating through you at this bully you’ve been assigned to profile.

you’ve seen enough stepping up to defend the poor chef with a few choice words to the older man ultimately getting in a verbal argument with him and being sent out of his kitchen, but not before he makes the poor chef join you, and whatever bravado you had to rip that asshole a new one is gone as carmen fucking berzatto begins walking in your direction shoving past you to get to the staff lounge.

what are the fucking odds that you end up at the same exact restaurant carmy works at after being ghosted by him again that one christmas. (I’d say they’re great since I’m writing this)

you’re standing there in shock for a minute before turning on your heel to find the man.

he’s pacing back and forth hand pressing into the space where his heart lay. as soon as he sees you he’s hurling questions your way; “what the fuck are you doing here?” “why the fuck couldn’t you just mind your business?” “he didn’t need your fucking help.” blah blah blah.

your anger from earlier is back and you’re just like alright bet “guess it’s still fuck me right carm?” grabbing your bag and getting the fuck outta dodge.

you don’t make it far before carmy finds you, the man doesn’t apologize but he asks you to stop by when he gets off.

you’re a loser for carm so you do. he’s takes you back to his place, it’s awkward as fuck but you finally give in and tell him about what’s going on in Chicago, mikey’s addiction, the “fight” you had with mikey at the beef, him being in rehab.

and carmy is surprised as fuck, to say the least, he tells you that he’s miserable in new york. feels like the restaurant might kill him before his anxiety ever could.

neither of you are sure how any of it happens but the next thing you know you’re naked under him giving into pent-up desires, promises whispered into each other’s skin.

you can’t stay in new york forever but the both of you decide it is for the best not to start anything with all the distance between you.

you try talking carmy into moving back to Chicago and homeboy actually gives it some thought.

after that the two of you are in constant contact like not a day goes by without a phone call or text.

you’re back in chicago mikey’s been doing good in rehab, the family counseling sessions are going well. next thing you know his 6 months are up and he’s out.

you talk carmy into visiting for a bit, he and mikey def have things to work out.

surprise surprise, COVID hits carmy gets stuck in Chicago (man is not complaining though if that means he gets to see you)

you get a roommate who doubles as a lover and everything goes from there!!!

a/n: reading this is so chaotic it actually made me giggle. on a serious note in no way am i saying all addicts are violent or have violent tendencies but from my experiences that has been the case. also i think canonically (7 fishes ep) that mikey did have violent tendencies whether it be the drugs or not.

#etherealising’s 1k celebration #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #fem!reader #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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cloudy-em · 8 months

Note

ok mayhaps a carmen x fem!reader and she’s like his childhood bsf? then she just kinda shows up one day after not seeing him for years idk

ooh I like it!

xxxxxxxxxxx

The memories came flooding back to Carmen. He felt frozen. Richie had pulled him close, a hushed but audible sound in the busy kitchen and all Carmen could do was focus on what Richie said; "Y/N is here". Suddenly nothing else mattered, and Carmen rushed to his office, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back in the chair, breathing deeply to stall the anxiety.

Y/N, his closest friend. He remembered the day they met so vividly, it was like watching it on a screen. She was riding her bike down the sidewalk, doing her best to work with her helmet that was a little too big and her uncoordinated 5 year old body. She approached him sitting on the old wooden steps of his house.

"D'you wanna play?" she asked him. And the friendship took off flying. They took each other away from the pains of their homelives in treehouses and days playing by the creek. They grew older and stayed just as close. Carmen struggled in school and Y/N helped him with his homework, offering to do the math for him if he read the English novel. They skipped middle school dances together by sitting in that old treehouse that was quickly getting too cramped, smiling and laughing together.

But the times changed, like they often do, and Y/N's mom remarried and they had to move away from Carmen. He could feel the hurt still inside him as he wrung his hands, pacing the floor in his office. He felt betrayed; she did leave him to deal with everything alone. She had escaped the life she'd always led, moving out to some western coastal town where she would be happy without Carmen. The door opened, and Carmen whipped his head around to face it.

"Cousin," Richie said, seriously for once and not being an asshole. "She's still out there. Nobody's taken her order yet. Thought maybe the Chef would like to do the honors?"

Carmen stared back, wide-eyed, unable to speak.

"Ya can't run away forever," Richie told him.

Carmen took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Richie was right. His dearest friend, the one he hadn't seen in a decade, was sitting in his restaurant. He could see her again, one last time. Maybe she'd recognize him and they would make small talk for a minute or two after she paid the bill and he would have closure. Or maybe she wouldn't recognize him and all he'd ever be to her was a lost memory.

It was undeniably Y/N. He knew as soon as he left the safety of the kitchen that it was her. God, she'd barely changed. As Carmen approached the table where she sat alone, he swore time was moving slower than it ever had.

"Good evening, may I get you something to drink?" he asked, cringing at how his words sounded.

"Carmy?" She practically squealed. "Oh my god, I can't believe it's you! It's me, it's Y/N." He smiled politely and bit his tongue to keep from saying, "I know".

"Wow, Y/N! It's great to see you," he said, trying to steady the shake in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, mom and Robert finally got divorced, and mom's old, so I helped her move back to where she grew up," Y/N said, softly. "I heard about this new restaurant, got rave reviews. Figured I would try it before I head back to New York."

"Oh, you live in New York now?" Carmen asked her. If only he'd known that, they were probably in New York at the same time. This meeting could've happened so much sooner.

"Yeah, I'm in marketing for a law firm," she said. "Well, what about you? What've you been up to?"

"Me? I-" but Carmen was interrupted by Richie.

"Chef," he said. "If you'd like to sit and talk with your...friend, I'm more than glad to take her order."

Carmen didn't have a chance to answer, because Y/N answered for him.

"Oh, Carm, please stay!" She said to him before turning to Richie kindly, thanking him and ordering an appetizer to share with Carmen. Richie nodded, walking back towards the kitchen.

The silence made Carmen uncomfortable as he sat across from his childhood best friend.

"So..." Y/N began, trying to keep her smirk behind her lips, but failing. The gesture made Carmen smile softly at her; she never could quite contain her joy or humor. "Chef, huh?"

Carmen nodded shyly. "Yeah. Revamped the place, I-I'm proud of it."

"You should be! It's great, Carmy, it really is," Y/N smiled, reaching her hand across the table for his hand. He didn't move his hand, letting her skin graze his.

"I'm glad to see you, I really am," Carmen told her, hoping for a split second that maybe, just maybe, they could repair what they once had.

"I'm sorry we lost contact, Carmen," Y/N apologized. "It's no excuse, but Robert didn't want me to keep talking to you. He wanted me to find new friends, and I- god, I'm just so sorry."

Carmen, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "It's okay, Y/N. I wanted you to find friends and I wanted you to be happy. Plus, it's just as much my fault as it is yours. We both got busy, and it was a stupid mistake. We'll make it better, yeah?"

Y/N smiled at Carmen's forgiveness and maturity and happy at his proposition to rekindle.

"Yeah, Carmy. We'll make it better."

#fanfic #writing #female reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carm berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #the bear s2 #carmen berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you

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spideryves · 1 year

Text

Forgiveness

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warning: cursing, mention of death, & angst

Cigarettes weren’t something she smoked often. She preferred weed, the high filling the emptiness she felt when life got too real, the memories of her mistakes and failures flooding in and mixing with whatever shit she was going through at the moment.

Currently, that shit involved the death of Michael Berzatto.

The news knocked the wind out of her lungs, grief taking over her daily routine and leaving her an empty shell of a person for far too long.

Even with Carmy’s (her former best friend) return and takeover of ‘The Beef’, seeing his face for too long only reminded her of what they’d both lost.

The sound of a lighter flickering next to her alerted her of a presence. As if he’d been in her head all along, Carmy leaned against the wall behind her, before inhaling his own cigarette as well. His actions were monotonous, a routine he seemed to know all too well.

It made her shudder a little.

With an exhale, Carmy spoke without catching her eye. “Tina said she saw you run out here, said something about a panic attack.”

Damn you, Tina.

Y/N loved the woman as if she was born and raised by her, but the amount of times she played mother when she didn’t want her too were too many to count. She almost envied Tina’s disdain for some of the other workers, like the new hire Sydney, who walked on eggshells around the older woman.

If she wasn’t on the verge of tears right now, Y/N would’ve let out a chuckle.

“You okay?”

And there it is— the wall she was currently holding came crashing down, silent sobs escaping her lungs as the cigarette fell out of her hands, belonging concrete and piling with the few she smoked a few hours prior.

Carmy’s concern, although genuine, pissed her off greatly.

It was one thing to come running back to save the restaurant after Michael’s death, but to barely acknowledge her existence besides a few moments in passing or direct orders in the kitchen hurt worse than anything else she’d experienced these past few weeks. Even with the small thought of it being the way Carmy decided to grieve made her stomach turn. He had no right to take it out on her.

As he put out his own cigarette, he wrapped his arms around Y/N, engulfing her in a hug she’d silently craved. The smell of the kitchen almost knocked her off her feet, the overwhelming aroma mixed in with whatever cologne he was wearing started to give her a slight headache, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from leaning into his warm embrace.

Only a few minutes passed before she leaned out of the hug, her crying subsided and her breathing only slightly hitched.

They both finally got to look into each other’s eyes for the first time in ages. His brown eyes stared at hers, pools of sorrow and regret calling out to her. He lips moved, as if he was about to mutter an apology or some sort of explanation, but the only thing that passed was a sigh.

He looked away, shame clearly coming across as his cheeks tinted a slight pink.

“I forgive you,” she said, leaning her head against the wall. “But I can’t act like you didn’t ditch me for New York.”

Carmy bit his lip. He clearly felt like an asshole.

“Y/N-“

“It’s okay. Apologize when you’re ready..just stay with me for a minute, okay?”

And so he did, the pair now sitting on the concrete of the alley way surrounded by trash and old cigarette butts. The Beef would be closing soon, and they were definitely needed in the kitchen to help be apart of the clean up crew. Y/N was sure she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Richie, dreading his shrill voice in her and Carmy’s ear later that night, but she didn’t care.

Y/N had Carmy, and Carmy had Y/N. I’m her mind, a small piece of her reality was back to normal. Even just for a night.

#the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmy x black!reader

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writers-hes · 9 months

Text

Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

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It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called.

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you.

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift.

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage.

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave.

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown.

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.”

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring.

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position.

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand.

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two.

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already.

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map.

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead.

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?”

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,”

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged.

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you.

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers.

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room.

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers.

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said.

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk.

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was.

“I change my scenario,” she said.

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck.

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?”

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,”

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo.

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil.

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said.

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know.

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours.

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth.

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant.

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather.

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks.

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again.

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground.

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,”

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,”

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily.

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #fanfiction #fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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nolita-fairytale · 3 months

Text

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder.

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news.

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear.

A visitor?

“Wh-?”

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go.

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef.

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval.

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it.

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable.

Must be a prank or some shit….

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it?

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you.

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly.

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that:

“You’re not Carmen.”

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.”

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time.

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time.

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out.

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael.

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly.

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all.

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him.

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside.

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night.

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction.

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart.

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.”

Carmy tries again.

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.”

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next.

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away.

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?”

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over.

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?”

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down.

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you.

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further.

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view.

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that:

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?”

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy.

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.”

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay.

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh.

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look.

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology.

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him.

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.”

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued.

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction.

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it.

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval.

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him.

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies.

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth.

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.”

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots.

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots.

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass.

Carmy hesitates.

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with.

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit.

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition.

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued.

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!”

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look.

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement.

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!”

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with:

“... just like the one John Lennon had!”

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again.

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll.

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.”

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction.

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open.

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation.

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head.

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation.

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot.

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that."

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?"

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.”

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother.

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that.

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear."

There it is again.

That feeling.

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him.

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out."

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims:

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!"

"Carm-."

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair.

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him.

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?”

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you.

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother.

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together.

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on.

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm.

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar.

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is.

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet.

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle.

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you.

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice.

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too.

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands.

Carmy nods.

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.”

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself.

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard.

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

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aestheticaltcow · 4 months

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What Happens in Vegas Doesn't Always Stay in Vegas

A four-part series about a drunken mistake and realizations starring our favorite neurotic chef.

Part 1 - Those are legal?

“I’m sorry, what do you mean ‘I’m married’?” Ellie questioned the FBI agent in front of her. “Well, with Jack’s security clearance, we took his marriage license application very seriously. Elanor Marks, you’ve been married to a man named Carmen Berzatto for the past eight years.”. Ellie turned to look at Jack, who was just as dumbfounded as her, “You two got married in 2016 at Quickie Vows in Las Vegas.” the agent handed Jack a folder. “Here’s all the information, sir.” Jack nodded without saying anything.

“How did you not know you were married?” Jack laughed as he got into bed that night, “I didn’t think those Vegas weddings were like real marriages.” Ellie sighed, sinking deeper into their mattress. Jack frowned, realizing just how upset his fiance was, “Hey, get over here.” he opened his arms. Ellie sighed and scooted closer to him in bed, “This is one of the things I love about you, Ellie. You’re spontaneous and eclectic. You love life and have never said no to anything.” he kissed her head making Ellie sink deeper into his chest. “When I met you in Germany, I knew you were goin’ be my wife one day. This whole Vegas marriage thing is just a hiccup. I’ll call Bren, and we’ll get all of this figured out… you’ll get your spooky October wedding, I promise.”

Ellie opened her locker the next morning and shoved her backpack in before sitting on a free chair to change into her non-slip shoes. “There she is, the blushing bride.” Ellie rolled her eyes at her friend’s greeting. “Hey, Maddie.” “You good?” “I’ve been better…”

Maddie shot her a quizzical look. “Wanna talk about it?” Ellie sighed “Do you remember Carmy Berztto?” “Wow, that’s a blast from the past…” “Yeah, that’s what I said… we’ve been married since that Vegas trip.” Maddie was lost for words, “You know what I have to feed my sourdough…” she awkwardly laughed, scratching at the back of her neck. “Lunch break?” Ellie laughed, knowing Maddie wanted to know what had happened that trip “Yes. I have so many questions.”

“CAB, you’re like the best.” “I don’t know ‘bout that, El.” Carmy laughed, taking another swig from his bottle of tequila. Ellie snaked her arm around his waist as the two walked down the Vegas strip. The two found themselves separated from the main group of friends they’d come to Vegas with; it wasn’t something unheard of for the two of them. “You’re a kid but got the fuckin’ James Beard! You’re the best.”Ellie hiccuped. Carmy rolled his eyes, “You’re only like a year older than me, babe.” Ellie giggled and playfully hit his chest.

The two ended up sitting on the edge of a fountain, exchanging stories of childhood trauma and fears of the future between kisses. “My mom used to call me a whore back in high school-” “You’re my whore…” Carmy whispered as he kissed down Ellie’s jawline, making her giggle and hit his shoulder “You’re so stupid.” “Fuck I love you.” Carmy laughed, burying his head in her shoulder nipping at her collarbone. Ellie giggled and gently tugged at his hair “I fuckin’ love you too.”

In New York, this evening would end in sex on the kitchen floor or the ratty old couch in Carmy’s bare apartment. In Vegas, it was a different story. Neither Carmy nor Ellie realized who’d suggested it, but they found themselves at Quickie Vows. They both went through the motions, thinking it was the funniest joke in the world. The two returned to the group’s Airbnb and went to the backyard to get into the hot tub. The next day, Ellie got the call she’d been waiting for. She was going to Europe to be a commis chef. After a quick stop in New York, Ellie was off and thought she’d never be back in the States, at least until she met Special Agent Jack Aubrey.

The two met in Germany five years ago; it was love at first sight for Jack. Ellie took a couple of months to warm up. He was everything Carmy lacked; he actively made time to be with her. They weren’t together out of convenience; Jack was proud to be seen with her. He encouraged her to be herself and grow as a person. But of course, Carmy needed to make one last appearance before Ellie could live happily ever after.

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

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thegirlwhowatchedeverything · 2 years

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It's interesting Tina introduces Sydney to her son as "Jeff's friend" in episode seven (and that her son repeats her words literally saying "Hi Jeff's friend"). Had this been episode one when everyone at The Beef was just meeting Sydney that line would make sense. It'd fit with Ebra's "Carmen, there is a girl" and Richie's "Fuck is this?" and "sweetheart" and new fucking broad".

But by this point, Sydney has earned Tina's respect and affection. She even corrects herself calling Syd chef rather than Jeff. So, ways she could have introduce her that would make sense:

a) Chef/Jeff

b) Chef/Jeff Syd(ney)

c) Syd(ney)

So, not only is it an interesting way to introduce her but in my opinion no one else comes close to being categorized as a friend of Carmy's. Pete, Nat, and Cicero are his family, Richie is unofficial family, and everyone at The Beef are officially employees but more like found family. Most of them knew and worked for Michael for years (Marcus seems to be the only exception besides Syd?). And many of them already knew Carmy, knew of Carmy, or know his extended family. An example: Tina knows Carmy's mom from her Christmas party (and tbh probably from multiple Christmases) and knows Sugar from the times she used to come by The Beef (we know because she asks Carmy why she doesn't stop by anymore). A second example: it's confirmed Fak's known Carmy since at least Michael's 15 birthday because of the story Carmy tells about trying to break up a fight at said party. All of his family members (Sugar, Cicero, and Mikey) call him Bear at one point on the show, and Fak is the only non family member to call him by his childhood nickname. However, despite many at The Beef's direct and indirect connections to the Berzattos, I still don't think "friends" is the right description for anyone at The Beef.

I will die on the hill that is a Carmy/Syd romance, but even if you wanted to argue for their relationship being strictly platonic, it's significant that she really is his only friend on the show. And that title is significant because this man has no other life or hobbies outside of his career, his family, and now The Beef and all the people that come with it. Syd is the only person who comes into his life not connected to those things - his life in New York, his family, and his family restaurant. From the start, their relationship is separate from anything he's had or currently has, not mentor/mentee, boss/employee, not family - they're straight up equals, partners, friends. Ideally we get to lovers (whether they make it canon or not, we all know). I don't think either of them are aware of their growing feelings yet (Syd maybe, Carmy definitely not), but neither would object to the label of friends as of now. They're giving One night he wakes/Strange look on his face/Pauses, then says/You're my best friend/And you knew what it was/He is in love vibes to me.

So yeah, labeling Syd as "Jeff's friend" is interesting. To me, it's the writers explicitly communicating the nature of their relationship in a seemingly throwaway line.

#the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #sydney adamu #syd adamu #carmy x syd #syd x carmy #taylor swift #you are in love #1989 #friends to lovers

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matchamorphosis · 2 years

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— ❝ 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐀 𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎 𝐁𝐄 ❞

summary: you return to the city that raised you and help make dinner for the man that claims your heart.

pairings: friends with benefits!carmen berzatto × fem!mena!reader

genre: friends to benefits to lovers. wordcount: 1.6K

warnings: 18+ only. steamy moments but no smut. cursing. small talk of cultural differences. handjob mention. nicknames: “bear” and “clem”. reader is a food critic. mentions of death, generational trauma, anxiety, and stress. a lot of food talk. past friends with benefits sort of thing.

w. note: so i’m officially a carmy whore, that’s what’s new. reminder that reader is middle eastern north african (that’s what mena stands for). anyway make sure to read, reblog and give feedback. muah!

Be ba da do be; a man loves a woman, the woman loves a man.

“It was a hand job, Carmy. I remember it and so do you, you were dazed as fuck for two hours straight on the drive home and my wrist was sore as shit.”

God how he missed her and her tease, more than how he missed the supercut memories of Chicago that lulled him to sleep when he was homesick in New York.

“Clem,” the nickname zesty, tangy, and sweet in his mouth just like the effects of a slice of clementine on his tongue. “I was dazed for an hour at max, the bottle you coerced the waiter to give you just aided in getting me wasted.”

A stream of laughter flows out of her mouth, her teeth gleaming in a smile that is nothing but contagious as she begins to remember more of that summer night she and him spent downtown.

“Sure, baby sure. Go play innocent Carmy on me, it’s not going to work though cause my memories not shit.” shaking her head, throwing in a liberal amount of garlic on the yellow zucchini, roasted butternut squash and sliced red onion soaking in a pot of melty butter.

Be ba da do be, the man grins a smile he doesn’t know he could manifest but knows well it’s the cause of the woman.

The kitchen is clouded in a variety of smells, from the sweet squashes cooking to the spiced yogurt marinated lamb chops searing and the sourdough rising. Sounds hit each other’s ears in a symphony of roaring laughter, loose footsteps following the groove of the stereo, and the music of food cooking a dinner that will fill their hearts before their stomachs.

Carmen looks at her, really taking a good look at her. Because he feels the heavy ache in his belly strengthen, that ache that simultaneously goes along with the fluttery excitement of seeing, hearing, feeling somebody you care in a long time. It’s making his heart hungry, he never felt this hunger in a while.

The feeling is brightening up his face like a runny egg yolk, pigmenting it with a cherry blush when she grabs him by the back of his head to try the sauce coated on her wooden spoon. Cherry-colored like the filling of Marcus’s doughnuts, making him see stars the same color as the icings when she whispers the lyrics of the playing song in his ear.

The details of the occasion where written and sealed when he sent you a late night voice message after looking through some five year old photographs he had hidden away in three of the cookbooks you gave him for his birthday five years ago. The firecracker of realization striking him that so much time has passed since he was in New York, and you were in Boston.

That hungry sensation scented in a cloud of spices that wrap Carmen’s senses, like a pair of arms that he wants to be within each night. Slow then fast, his chopping escalates then declines as he moves the knife with precision across the cutting board.

Be ba da do be; is the exact pace of his heart thumping in his chest.

It goes along with the movements of her lips and the rain against the kitchen windowsill. Warmth filling his heart, making it rise like the sourdough baking in the oven.

“Carmy?” the approach of her words smooths over to him at the counter, “Yeah y/n/n?” he responds, whisking the dressing of a salad then tasting a bit with his pinky, it’s need some more citrus.

It was a night to make up for a lot of lost time, so the both of you decided on a day to experiment with whatever that was in Carmen’s fridge and you bring whatever the hell that could fit inside your grocery bag.

“Could you hand me three sprigs of rosemary?” his head turn over his shoulder to see her jean clad hips expertly swaying, and moving to the beat of the song.

The exposed skin of her back neck burning a hypnotizing trance in his blue eyes, tightening a knot in his stomach as he licks his lips. He remembers how he used to mark it up with his lips and teeth, leaving behind a trial of blemishes that varied in size and visibility. Carmen manages to snap out of it, dashing his eyes up to her at the stovetop.

Her own eyes stay focused on the sight of onions caramelizing in a sizzling puddle of olive oil, loose curls frame her face as the rest stay in order with the great help of a citrus-colored claw clip. A wooden spoon in one hand as the other motions to the rhythm of the music playing on the old stereo in the living room.

Carmy believes it’s Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass because he hasn’t heard the song “Ladyfingers” since she went away to Boston.

“Rosemary? Ah yeah, yeah, I got rosemary.” Carmen's hands quickly steps away from his area of chopping a lemon and squeezing it in the bowl, heading to his spice cabinet where he opens it as he inspects what little contents fill the empty space.

I really need to do some shopping before I think to invite people over for dinner, he thinks before closing it.

“Um no rosemary actually, sorry about that Chef.” he just sees her smirk and turn to grab her grocery tote bag, pulling out a small jar of rosemary sprigs from the endless depth. A magician, truly, Carmen also thinks as he gives her a smile.

“That’s why I come prepared for the worse when I plan to cook with you Chef.” it’s playful and filled with just the right amount of spark he missed, he secretly yearns for more of it just as he wants more of her saffron tinted rose water flavored presence filling the lonely blue void of his soul.

Be ba da do be; the man spills the bottle of memories, letting the nostalgia soak him through.

“Hey y/n.” he mumbles, standing besides her as she spoons the hot liquid butter over the garlic and rosemary sitting atop the seared steaks.

“Hey Carmy.” Her response crisp, her own eyes drifting to his that move away every few seconds and he licks his damn lips.

Fucking fuck, Bear — little thoughts of moisturizing his lips with the birthday-cake flavored chapstick you have on emerge.

“What do you remember from that night?” his voice stitched with curiosity he tries to hide, covering it up by stirring the couscous added to the squashes. Carmen knows the tiny bowl of chopped parsley will be sprinkled on top it after the couscous cooks through.

Internally, the highly acclaimed Chef asks himself why he hasn’t ever asked her out then but that answer always seems to answer itself time and time again when it pops up. Torturing him when he laid in bed thinking about the bike rides through green Orland Park. How they read each other recipes from cookbooks on Chinatown Branches library shelves, kissing behind the coffee shops in Little Palestine.

That time ago, it wouldn’t have happened. No matter how much confidence he harnessed from pep talks with Mikey or just the willpower of adolescent desire. It wouldn’t have happened, in secret was the only way the both could explore the world and each other and even then you both wouldn’t go as far to call it a relationship. Him and her, the two of you, were just too different.

It was hard truth to swallow from the criticisms Carmen got from his family, being so interested in a woman from her culture who wanted to taste food for a living just as much as she got backlash from her family for being interested in a white guy who wanted to cook for a living.

“I think we have some polar opinions on what happened that night. But we both know it was your bright idea to convince me to skip my afternoon course and drive downtown with you.” her accent slips into your words formally and naturally.

Carmy loves it when that happens, because she can’t control it one bit. The y/n he knew five years ago used to be so overtly embarrassed of it but now, she doesn’t mind it showing whatsoever.

“You’re right, I remember that part of the night crystal clear.” he tags along to this journey back to the past but he’s hoping you’re willing to talk about what happened late that night.

She smacks his bicep with the back of her hand and laughs, an aspect of his physique she knows has gained a few muscle that last time she saw him. It’s then did Carmen realize he said that thought aloud and not to himself.

“You know what Bear, you’re a lot more of a pervert then I remember.” She smirks as he begins to pour out apologies for all the faults this night has, from the lack of herbs to his “creepiness”. But to be fair, it’s taking her a severe amount of discipline to not think about other areas that may have changed as she looks at him trying to explain himself.

“It’s not a problem Carmy, I wanted to talk more of that night to. Just wasn’t done talking before you swang in on your boner.” she grins and he just continues to blush and apologize, accepting to laugh along with you and your endless teasing.

“The dumplings you got us were good though, and I didn’t have to subject myself to unnecessary persecution from my professor so that was an added bonus.” you sigh as you wipe a little bit of sweat off your forehead with your hand towel.

The heat from the oven and stove rises the temperature of the kitchen, convincing you to slip out of the thick university sweater that wraps your body up and reveal the deep richness of your exposed skin the short tank top provides.

“And I liked the fact that it was me and you. Just us walking through the city and catching a late night movie.” and simultaneously you both think back on his lips hungrily devouring yours and your hands unzipping his pants in the shadowy dark of the theatre.

Be ba da do be; the woman doesn’t know why she feels a pain in her heart but she hopes the man can help relive it.

Carmen nods along — I haven’t forgotten that night. I don’t wanna forget how you made me feel because I feel like I’ve forgotten you.

He couldn’t think of the name of the movie that was playing even if it could save him, and why would he want to be saved? His mind floods of memories of that night with his hands in your hair, your hand playing with his hard cock, and his lips hidden in your neck as he tried to maintain his moans by bitting down and sucking on your skin.

Cool air hits your skin but you feel a burn, something similar to the swelter of something hot to your senses but without the sting. Carmen can’t tear his eyes away, even when the pans of food are under his mercy he can’t help them because he’s under the mercy of your figure swaying under his kitchen lights.

You’re crazy, you’re driving me crazy and you’re enjoying it, Carmen thinks as he leans his weight against the countertop, unashamedly enjoying the show before him.

The pure gold plate of your name in Arabic winks at him as it lays comfortably on your exposed cleavage. Bare waist moving softly then strongly like the waves of a tide, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It unleashed another memory of playing near the Pierre, the water that night reflecting off the moonlight as his hands slipped into her underwear, massaging her wetness and bringing it up to his lips to taste her for the first time.

Her eyes meet Carmy’s for a second, his face deep pink like the juice of a raspberry before he turns away with an apology.

Enjoying the view? — is what you want to say but you find yourself a little flustered to tease him — because he looks so fucking good.

The veins running from his hands to his forearms popping here and there with his tight grips and motions. The black ink of his tattoos strained through the muscle of his skin it’s making you hot all over. You’re drinking him in, practically thinking of him fucking you while you try to look anywhere else besides his strong nose or shoulders.

“Do you ever think that you’re using a bit too much onion and garlic in your dishes? It smells damn good but I can immediately tell which plate of food is yours from a hundred just from the onion to garlic content and ratio.”

Carmen means it in the most politest manner and he tries and fails to keep back a laugh when you give him your signature questionable look that is ingrained in your family.

“Is that your nice-guy way of saying i’m predicable Carmy? That I’m some sort of onion and garlic addict? Well listen Carmy, I can’t help it, onions and garlic are my love language. The more I love a person the more I use them.”

“You must love me a whole lot then ‘cause my apartments gonna be smelling like ‘em till next month.” he laughs and she giggles while shrugging her shoulder in agreement then taking her squash couscous and braised lamb chops to the little table in the corner of his kitchen.

“Sorry Carmen, I hope you don’t mind it. I mean I just moved back here and i’m already etching myself on you. How is the restaurant doing?” her words soft and gentle, her eyes etched on Carmy’s back, her heart pausing when he stops whatever he was doing to turn around and look at her.

“No no I don’t mind it. It means a lot for you to be here, I’m glad I called you. I, I really missed seeing you, talking to you.” Carmen assures, he doesn’t want to have her walk on eggshells around him, he already cleared everything up with her about Michael and doesn’t want the tension to resurface.

It was great that you two had a lot to talk about but the generational trauma of both your families anxieties and stresses wasn’t a light subject that you both are eager to dive into.

Be ba da do be; the man plays at the strings of his heart, grateful to know they still create the same ballad that plays when the woman’s near.

“And the restaurant is going great. We’re still experimenting with a new menu. I have to talk to some contractors and designers for the layout tomorrow.” she nods along, a little seed of happiness for him growing fast. Growing green veins that wrap around the vesicle of her heart, like a second skin she didn’t know she shed once she stopped talking to her old dear friend.

“I’m happy for you Bear. It all has lead up to this huh?” the twinkle in her eyes glisten, giving him a quick wink that makes him do a mental double take.

Carmen watches her pour her standard household amount on both of their plates and sprinkle it lightly with parsley. The candle in the middle of both your dishes was lite, only she’s not the one that light but him earlier that night.

“Yeah, yeah really it has.” Carmen can’t tear his eyes away from hers, “You know, if you’d like you could drop by tomorrow. You could try this new dessert Marcus is whipping up, I have this ah—” Carmy’s hand lifts up to scratch his head, his eyes roaming from her lips to her nose to the earrings that hang from her ears.

Everywhere before swimming in the soft intensity of her eyes, licking his lips when her lashes shut her eyes for a second before opening them to reveal the intensity of them again.

“This dish, that I’m working on. It has a some uh, you know you could see what I’m talking about band try it out. Only if you want to, you know.” Carmen explains, now looking at you after taking the sourdough out of the oven and playing with the gorgeous brown crackly surface.

“Oh I know, maybe I do want to drop by tomorrow.” her tone is making his head spin, a dozen of ideas for new dishes coming to mind that he wants her to try. Each step she takes closer to him makes his heart pound a new beat, he wishes the smell of her perfume would stay present.

“And you know, maybe you could go easy on me and my crew to. I know how offended you critics can get when you don’t like what the Chef serves up.” Carmen whispers, he doesn’t need to raise his voice with her face inching so close to his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go more than easy on you Bear. You don’t have to worry about that.” She whispers back, he breaks from his reserved space to inch closer. Admiring the shape of her lips, imagining how soft and warm they feel.

“Then what should I worry about, sweetheart? Should I worry about your daddy? Or your mama? Or my mom? I don’t really care about them right now. I don’t care because they don’t matter.” all forms of fear and hesitancy are thrown out the window and into the rainy night.

“Stop fucking around and tell me what you’re trying to say Carmy.” he sees the watery glint in her eyes, regret rises in his chest as his throat goes dry.

It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair how he’s letting the fears that prevented him from loving her then keep him from loving her now.

When Carmen thought of Chicago when he was in New York he thought of his family, his childhood, his food, and her. Any image of her just is associated with a feeling of regret of what could have been. He just wants to know if she feels that to, and if she doesn’t want to live in that stage of regret anymore.

“I’m saying that maybe we don’t have to feel scared anymore because there’s nothing to be scared of. You know I’ve— I’ve always loved you. I was stupid then to not have told you that but I’m telling it to you now.” he stops talking to take a good look at her, vulnerability spread on every feature of his face.

“What should I be worried about now? There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you.” he whispers, grasping her face in his hands to keep her avoiding glance to his.

In that action, his nose touches hers, the warmth of her lips seems to radiate against his mouth, her loose curls and his blonde strands of hair touch and twine together. Her hands touch his that still cup her cheeks and she holds the nose of his neck and pulls him to her.

Be ba da do be; they kiss and fill up that space of feeling they never felt but so desperately wanted.

“There better be plenty of onions and garlic in that special dish of yours tomorrow Chef.” y/n lightly demands, taking his mouth to hers again when he decides to lick his damn lips again.

A smirk spreads on Carmen’s face as he kisses back, it was so typical you to make him fall harder with her weird preferences, if that was possible.

“Trust me sweetheart, there’ll be more than enough.” he whispers against her lips, tasting the cake flavored chapstick she had on. “The whole blocks gonna know how much I love you.”

They can’t help the laughter that escapes them, her fingers tangled in his hair whilst he laughs into the crook of her neck. A new ache fills their chests after they come down from their giggles and smiles, but it’s an ache they’re willing to protect and nurture.

Be ba da do be; the man loves the woman and the woman loves the man.

#carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fluff

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