#but I have nothing but love for natalie berzatto | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laiiaaa · 7 months

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MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE — CARMEN BERZATTO 1. BUTTERSCOTCH — you finally say hello to a familiar face in the city after a little girl bumps into you. (2.7k) masterlist | next | taglist

Carmen keeps track of the running grocery list in his head:

Green onions? Check. Shallots? Check. Rolled oats? Check.

“Alright,” he huffs into the phone, a stupid thing tucked snug between his shoulder and jaw.

“Carm, I’m serious—”

“Nat, I got it, alright? I’ll call the fuckin’ guy.” Strawberries? Check. Eggs? Check. “I’m at the store, ‘n I’ll be back, ‘n then I’ll call him. It’s fine.” Dino nuggets? Check. That way-too-sugary cereal Sofia likes—? Even though he wishes Richie never gave it to her—? Check, check, check, so fuckin’ checked. “Now, do you wanna talk to—”

He looks to his side, where Sofia once stood with chubby little fingers hooked on the cart, that raggedy old stuffed animal always caught in the other fist. Gone. Carmen’s heart stops and catches in his throat.

Natalie’s voice again, much quieter now that the phone’s not at his ear. “Hello?”

He doesn’t even hear his sister, doesn’t process her words.

He turns around. “Sof?” But she’s not there.

He tries again, facing forward, a little louder. “Sofia?” Nothing. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, ending the call without a second thought. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, abandons the cart altogether, pokes his head into the aisle over. “Sofia.” Nothing. “Shit—”

He can’t breathe. A closed fist shoots to his chest to try and soothe the droughted ache. The ceiling’s closing in from above, every aisle looks the same, his feet are too heavy to carry him fast enough through the store.

Where’s his fuckin’ kid?

You’re spooked out of a fatigued trance by a clumsy little girl at your feet in the produce section.

She can’t be older than four, her chubby little face framed by golden brown curls, dressed in a cute little black dress and pink tights, ballet flats to boot. By her hand is a well-loved stuffed animal: an orange tabby cat with lint fuzzies along its body, teetering on the edge of the display about to fall into the lettuce.

“Well, hello,” you start.

She peeks up at you through stray curls with a grin. “Hi.”

You do a quick scan of the immediate area but spot nothing other than a worker stocking bananas twenty feet away, another pushing a cart of mangoes. “Where’d you come from, hm?” You perch down next to her and try to offer a warm smile to keep her calm.

“I’m here with my daddy.”

“Yeah? Where’s he at?”

Her lips, shiny with drool, puff into a pout. “I…” Her little voice wobbles, and you know that fucking wobble, that precursor to something uncontrollable and wretched, and for a split second you consider letting her cry, just on the off chance her dad hears it.

But you come to your senses: it’ll take all but five, no more than ten minutes to cover the entire store ground. You graze your hand by her back and offer her the sorry excuse for a cat. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s alright. I’ll help you.”

“B-But…” Those pretty brown eyes of her turn glassy, ready for tears, and her lip quivers, her cheeks puff out.

“I’ll help you find him, okay? We’ll wait right here, and I promise he’ll find you. We won’t leave this spot til he does.”

She hesitates before she nods, gives you a warbled, “Okay.”

You give her your name—something you read or heard from word of mouth, how putting a name to your face makes you more trustworthy. “What’s yours?”

“...Sofia.”

“Sofia,” you repeat. “That’s a very pretty name.”

The dimples that come through with her smile have you swooning, your chest filling with something sweet. A supercut you’ve long since abandoned flits through one of the best and worst years you’ve endured: kisses at the door for hello and goodbye, chilly Chicago mornings spent in someone else’s sheets, serving coffee in thick handmade mugs and being thanked for it with lips pressed to your cheek. But that was a year ago, and it’s long gone. You’re better off now—occupied with work, and running a business, and trying new things, and finding comfort in the solitude of an apartment that’s filled with nothing but the smell of coffee grounds.

Your pointer finger lifts her toy’s head: “And who’s this?”

“Butterscotch,” she says, Butter sounding a whole lot like Buttah.

“Yeah? Where’d you come up with that name?”

“My daddy’s a chef, he teached it to me.”

A chef, you hum, No wonder he’s here at seven in the morning.

And you do just about everything you’d want someone to do if this were your kid: you keep her right where she is like you promised her, you listen to all her stories she has with Butterscotch, you answer the silly questions she asks while she holds your finger in a squishy hand and bears a gummy smile.

Until—

A man wrought with stress approaches. Fitted white tee, loose denim on his hips, beat up Nikes that’ve probably seen better days. Golden brown curls like the little girl’s, only thicker, darkened with age, and half-straightened, probably from the way he runs his fingers through them like he does as he walks toward you and the girl. Buff arms, built shoulders, and they’re littered with tattoos…

Not what you expected. And he looks so fucking familiar, yet you can’t put your finger on it—

“Sofia,” he huffs, and she scurries over to him in tiny yet quickened steps and jumps into his arms, his eyes closing and brows furrowing with a relief that’s palpable as he tucks his nose into her swirling hair. “What’d I tell you about comin’ to the store w’me, huh?” A veiny hand with the letters S O U inked on the fingers cups the back of her head as he sways her from side to side, failing to give her much of a stern look at all despite his frustration. “You gotta stay by my side, I told you, you’ll get lost.”

“But I wasn’t lost, Daddy,” she pouts, “I was right here, and—and I had to find Butterscotch, and you—you weren’t there—”

“Okay,” he soothes, rubbing his hand along her back before he thumbs away budding tears from her fleshy cheeks. “Okay, hon…” He props her at his hip. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You just scared me ‘s all, alright? Didn’t know where you were, had me lookin’ all over for you.”

“...I’m sorry,” she mumbles, clearly upset, nuzzling into her dad’s shoulder as he presses a sweet kiss to her head.

He looks to you, then, and you lend him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about her, she’s, uh…” He peeks at her, so lovingly— “She can be a handful sometimes.”

“No, don’t apologize, she was great.” Your eyes drift to his hands. They’re big, strong, like he knows what to do with them around the house, with a baby girl...with her mother, too, though you wonder where that stands. You try not to. “She’s talkative, makes for a fun conversation. A great storyteller, too.”

He smiles, and it’s hearty, with a twitch of a brow as he draws just a bit closer—it’s slight, so slight you almost think you’re imagining things. “Think so? She doesn’t usually, um…doesn’t usually wanna talk to people, y’know?” He hikes her up again, and she turns so that she’s facing you. “Get all grumpy, don’t ya, Sof? Like with your Uncle Richie?”

“But she’s nice,” she chimes in, lifting her head from his shoulder and leaving the cat’s head peeking through. “Not mean like he is.”

Again with that smile, he looks at her with raised brows, bobs her up and down as he holds her tight, like she’s his entire world. “Yeah?” He shoots you back a look, half-impressed. “You don’t wanna see him today, huh?”

“No,” she grumbles, face smushed into his tee. “Can she come to work with us instead?”

“Sof…” He scoffs, cocking his head to the side, and his eyes dart between you and his girl. “That’s not—we can’t just—”

“Pretty please, Daddy…” She pouts at him, pulls on his neck with her arms looped around it, starts trying to lean back to stir up trouble but his hands hold her firm to his torso. “You said Eva and Vivi can’t play today…”

“I—I know, hon— . . . It’s just— . . .” Kissing his teeth, he contemplates for a moment. “She probably has work to do, y’know? Just like I have to work? And how sometimes you can’t come with me?”

“Where does she work?”

“Uhhh…” In an awkward pause, he seems to realize the dilemma. The expectant glance your way is almost painful. “Shit,” he hisses, holding Sofia with one hand to run fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, I should’ve—I should introduce myself, right?” The pained look on his face makes you think the question is genuine, and he offers his right hand to you— “I’m Carmen, but, um, most people just call me Carmy.”

It clicks: He’s Carmen Berzatto. Not just some guy or some chef in the grocery store you’ve happened to meet, but the guy. The guy who owns the fine dining joint across the street from your cafe; the guy who showed up to the city a few years ago only to revamp his family-owned sandwich shop in its entirety; the guy you’d heard so much about from the gossip around the block between vendors; the guy who left his roots to be something so much bigger than anyone could’ve imagined; the guy who came back with a reputation with none to rival and a shattered family in its shadow. The prodigal son of Chicago. You heard of him but never met.

“Y-Yeah, right, right,” you nod, stumbling for the right words. “I thought you looked kinda familiar.” You take his hand graciously as you give him your name. His handshake is firm, solid, sure of himself, with a callused palm and dry skin and cracked knuckles, an inked-on hand with a knife through its palm on the back of his hand. “You own The Bear, right?”

“I do.” Sheepish, like it’s embarrassing to be successful.

“Cool, cool, I’ve, um, I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, but I’ve never been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Something warm in your belly comes to the surface and you try to drown it. “I own the cafe across the street—? Just a, uh, a smaller place—” You shake your head as if to dismiss the thought of him even knowing about it. “I dunno if—”

“No, no, yeah, I know that one, a few doors down—” he nods, fervently— “Etta’s, right?”

You smile. He knew of it so quick, with so little detail you want to think it means something. “Yeah, that’s the one.” For fuck’s sake, the guy probably just likes to support his local businesses. Get a grip.

“My sister loves that place, goes there all the time. But I, uh…” A soft smile at his girl. “I don’t usually have much time to go myself…”

“Yeah, I can imagine you’re pretty busy with her.” Unless her mom is in the picture…?

But he doesn’t take the bait—he only smiles, hums with a subtle nod, gives Sofia a pat on the back to get her attention, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hey, cub, guess what?”

She comes to only slightly, with pale blonde locks like angel’s hair tickling Carmen’s neck. Grumbles something akin to a Hm?

“You know those chocolate chip muffins you like? The ones your Aunt Natalie gets for you?”

Her curls are already caught in her eyelashes. “With the sparkles on top?”

He gives you a knowing look: sugar, not sparkles. “Yes, with the sparkles. Did you know our new friend here runs that shop?”

Her head perks up with a gasp. “What?” Her excitement is so soft, and she can’t even stave off a smile now, tiny teeth shining through to show the dimples in her cheeks again.

“You heard me.”

From her mouth is only a whisper, a doe-eyed look targeted right at you. “No way.”

You smile at her. “Yes way.”

She puts on those puppy dog eyes, looks at Carmen with a pout as she tugs on him again. “Daddy, can we please—”

In one fell swoop, his hand whisks her hair out of her face. “Uh-uh. Nice try.”

Oh, but she’s a stubborn one. “But please—”

“Not today, baby, we gotta finish shopping, hm? Then go to work?” His eyes dart to meet yours in a knowing glance, a silent apology and excuse to leave. “Maybe I’ll ask Aunt Natalie to get them for you tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

She huffs and buries herself into his neck again, turning away from you now that she’s in a surly mood.

“Okay,” he sighs, smiling to himself, and you can’t deny the comfort in seeing his little girl so cozy with him, like he’s either the only parent around, or he’s really just that good of a father—and husband, or fiancé, or boyfriend, or whatever he might be. You don’t know if you should feel guilty for wanting to pry.

The conversation lulls to a hesitant stop, like neither one of you is sure how to bid farewell—or whether you want to do so at all.

“Y’know,” he starts, with a finality to his tone, “I’ve still gotta—”

“Yeah, me too—”

“And I left the cart in the other aisle—”

“Right, right, of course—”

“And they need me at the—”

“Same here, I need to, uh—”

“Right, yeah, so um—”

“Yeah—”

“I guess I should—”

“Probably—”

“And, uh—…”

“It was nice to meet you, though,” you finish, maybe a little too enthusiastic for only having just done so minutes ago.

But if it were, Carmen doesn’t show it. “Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too. I’ll, uh…I’ll see you around.”

You offer a softened smile. “Guess so.”

And he leaves you with a curt nod before he turns around with Sofia’s face smushed into his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck to leave Butterscotch hugged to the nape of it. That’s all you see, then: just a beaten up stuffed animal and springy golden curls as Carmen rounds the corner of the aisle, your breath gone short and face gone warm by the end of it.

Half of it, you’re sure, is the simple brevity of it all: consoling a lost child, to chatting with her father, to finding out he’s a business neighbor. And against your better judgment, the other half of it is a twinge of attraction to him. Even though he has a kid, and he may very well be married, or at least in a relationship, and by the looks of it, stressed out of his goddamn mind…

But there’s just something about him.

The way he was worried about his daughter like he’s supposed to be, the way he holds her and dotes on her and rubs her back like it’s nothing but natural to him, the heartwarming smile that reaches his eyes just by looking at his precious girl. The hard-earned strength in his hands and arms, the symbolic imagery of his tattoos that you’ve yet to dwell upon in late night hours, the awkward demeanor about him like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk to you—or if he even knows how. And all this, you see in a man working down the street, a man you’ve never spoken to until today, who could be the worst person in the world for all you know.

You don’t, is the thing. You don’t know his middle name, or his favorite color, or favorite food, or where he’s even worked, really, other than here in Chicago. You don’t know if Sofia’s mother is still around, or whatever happened to her if she isn’t, or if it’s a topic he breaches freely or not at all.

You don’t know enough about him yet to judge. You don’t know much at all. You don’t know if you want to, whether it’ll send you head first into a mess of pasts not unlike the one you’ve been trying to crawl out of alone for the past grueling months, if it’d upturn all the good you’ve tried to make stick.

But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that you want to see him again.

And that you’ll have to make a batch or two of muffins first.

masterlist | next | taglist

@knight4xmas @ajourneyforjoy @penguin876

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #dad!carm #jeremy allen white #carmy the bear #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fic #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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thebearer · 8 months

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if you lie down, lie next to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: you and carmen are newly weds, moving into your forever home.

inspired by @carmybears fic assembly required which has been SO heavy on my mind lately mixed with lana del rey's "if you lie down, lie next to me" <3

contains: fluff. just fluff newly weds, alludes at smut, some language, but tooth rotting sweetness and fluff.

“Carmen, I’m not even kidding. Where the fuck did all of this stuff come from?” You groan, collapsing another cardboard box with a huff, shoving it into the pile with the others by the door. “Our apartment was, like, one-fifth the size of this one. The living room was like our whole apartment. How do we have this much shit?”

Carmen snorted lightly, grinning and unpacking the various pots and pans. New pots and pans- wedding gifts.Your wedding came with an influx of appliances and cookware, gadgets for the kitchen that Carmen bubbled with excitement about. And a margarita maker- for you, of course- courtesy of Natalie Berzatto herself. The old apartment, you barely had space for the dishes and pots you had, let alone new ones.

So Carmen kept them tucked away, until he got the new place for you. He didn’t have a clue at the time he’d be buying you the Brownstone you were in now, nestled in the heart of Old Town. A good neighborhood, close-ish to the restaurant, zoned in a good school district- a forever home, for the two of you.

“I mean, most of it was wedding gifts.” Carmen shrugged. “The rest are your shoes.” He teased, a playful glint in his eye when he looked over at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha-ha,” You said sarcastically, bumping him with your shoulder. “Seriously, though, I’m never doing this again. We’re here for life, Berzatto.”

“That’s the plan, Berzatto.” Carmen nudged you back lightly, leaning to press a sweet kiss to your blushing cheeks, a loving squeeze to your ass when he passed you that left you squealing.

“The good news is,” Carmen paused, sliding the pot onto the hanging rack over the island, stepping back to admire it. “The kitchen is unpacked.”

“The most important room.” You hummed playfully. Carmen nodded in agreement, arms slipping around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Think we should celebrate?” Carmen grinned. “Christen it?”

“We already christened it.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Twice- no, three times, already.”

“Yeah but now it’s done.” Carmen countered. “No more boxes in the way.”

“I think you can only christen something once.” You give him a pointed look, ignoring the way his crotch is rubbing against your hip. You were still sore from the celebratory round of “putting the coffee table together” from earlier.

“And I’m starving. Should we order in again?” You hum, looking at the fridge. Nothing but a bottle of champagne and leftover takeout Chinese food. Your stomach turned at the thought.

Carmen caught your grimace, a hand running soothingly down your back. “If you want. I can run to the store, too. Grab some things for dinner. Break in the kitchen now that it’s done.”

“I think I like that idea better.” You nod, leaning against his chest, feeling his chain through his t-shirt- the same chain you had tucked between your teeth earlier. Your knees wobbled at the thought. “What are you making?”

“What’re you in the mood for?” Carmen tilted his head back to look at you. “Can make you whatever, baby, just lemme know.”

“I am down for anything that doesn’t come out of a box.” You giggle, nose snarling at the Chinese food. “Surprise me, Chef.” You grinned smugly, content at how Carmen’s cheeks flushed with heat.

“You wanna come with me?” Carmen asked, reaching over to swipe his keys off the kitchen counter.

You rolled your lips in thought. “I need to shower.” You blink at him sweetly. “I feel all sweaty and gross.”

“Alright. Need anythin’ else, baby?” Carmen is looking for his phone, patting his pockets and turning in a semi-circle to look around him.

You roll your eyes, plucking the phone off the coffee table in the living room, passing it to him. He was always losing his phone. You’d begged him to get an Apple watch but he swore it got in the way of his cooking, so you took to texting Nat or Richie- who always had their phones- when you needed him.

“Something to drink? Unless you want champagne because I’m pretty sure that’s all that’s in there.” You giggle, looking at the fridge.

Carmen smiled, pulling his hat over his tousled locks. “I got it.” He muttered, leaning to press a sweet, soft kiss to your lips, hands splaying over your hips, pulling you closer and closer into him.

He always managed to make you swoon like that, cheeks rushing with heat, dizzy and light with love. You hoped you’d always feel like this. Even when you were old and wrinkly and wobbly, you hoped Carmen would still kiss you like that- in this very spot, in this very house.

“Oh, Cass Elliot?” You grinned, spinning with the vinyl in your hands, brows raised playfully at Carmen. “He has taste.”

Carmen snorted lightly in laughter, dishrag slung over his shoulder, spooning the sauce over the chicken in the pan. The kitchen was warm, smelling heavily of spices and a dash of citrus. You’d set up the vinyl in the corner by the nook, an old school record player passed down from Carmen’s grandmother. His Nonna Berzatto, who he adored. He had told you about how he’d always go over and help her make Sunday sauce. She had that same vinyl in her kitchen, next to a picture of her parents, and a prayer candle of Mary. It was all he managed to get, keep after she passed and his parents sold everything else that they could. He’d even snagged a few records, though the one you held looked new.

“Yeah. Thought you liked her stuff?” Carmen muttered, eyes cutting to yours gently.

“I do.” You grinned, slipping the record out of the protective paper. “How’d you know that?” You lifted the arm of the record player, slipping out the old disk and sliding in the new one, careful of the bouquet you’d just placed by it. Carmen had snagged one at the grocery earlier, surprising you with the beautiful bloom when you’d gotten out of the shower.

“Because, you told me.” Carmen said simply, checking the asparagus inside the stove. Your heart fluttered. “When we were comin’ back from that trip… The, uh, the one we took to Detroit, remember? You played it on the way back.”

Your chest soared, filling with that warmth that made your body tingle from head to toe. “You remembered that? That was… two years ago?”

“Of course I remembered that.” Carmen scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you like he couldn’t believe you’d say something so ridiculous. “You said that, uh, that one song was like the love song to you. So I-I started listening to it because… ya know, it reminded me of you and stuff.” Carmen muttered, cheeks heating at the omission.

You beamed, lifting the long arm of the record player, letting it softly come to life with a scratch of static before the slow melody filled the room. “You’re sweet.” You hum, arms wrapping around his torso, swaying gently to the familiar medley. “Never would’ve guessed you woulda been this sweet.”

“Yeah? I’m given’ off asshole vibes?” Carmen laughed, hips turning slightly to face you.

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “Gave off recluse vibes.”

“Recluse?” Carmen turned to you.

“Yeah, like… quiet, shy boy vibes.” You giggle. “You barely spoke to me when I started… and you hired me!”

“I thought you were pretty.” Carmen shrugged boyishly. “And I thought if I talked to you, I’d throw up or embarrass myself. Also thought there was no way you’d be single. Too pretty and funny and… I dunno, thought you’d never go out with me.”

“Little did you know.” You grinned wickedly. “I had been stalking you in secret.” Carmen laughed at you. “I thought you were pretty, too.”

Carmen blushed at your omission, lips twitching in a smile. You swayed lightly, cheek pressed to his chest, letting the soft melody lull you. You remembered the car ride back from Detroit. Carmen was going to some chef expo there, trying to network and get Sydney the star she deserved. You’d agreed to go along. Things were far enough along it was stable, but still new and exciting. Your first real trip as a couple. You’d stayed in a hotel, gone to Carmen’s colleague’s fancy restaurant, went sightseeing and shopping hand-in-hand. You couldn’t help feeling so romantic, shuffling songs from the playlist you listened to when you were getting ready for a date. Old school tracks, filled with symphonies and ballads of love.

“I think this is almost done. D’you want to grab the glasses and I’ll-”

“-Let it sit for a minute.” You sigh contently, turning down the heat on the stove top.

“What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffs in laughter, turning while you pull at him, your hand lacing through his own, tugging him to the open space on the other side of the kitchen island.

You just smile at him, pulling him close to you. Your hand in his, the other wrapped around and settled on his spine. His free hand followed, sliding down your back. You leaned towards him, chin tilted towards his face, his curls tickling your forehead. You swayed slowly, nothing elaborate or coordinated, just a soft shuffle type sway, Carmen pulled close to you.

“‘M not good at this.” Carmen’s breath hitched, hand squeezing yours, his thumb gliding over your wedding rings.

“Yeah, you are.” You hum, nose brushing his. “Best dancer I’ve ever seen.” You mutter, your lips slotting over his sweetly. Carmen’s hand left yours, cupping your jaw and pulling you closer, his lips soft against your own. Your head found his shoulder, dipping into his collarbone, arms wrapped around his torso while he rocked you gently. The sound of Cass Elliot’s voice humming out of the record player Baby, I’m Yours fading into Words of Love. The fan from the stove still buzzing with life, wafting out the steam from the pans, rhythmically merging with the sounds from the street. A relatively quiet neighborhood, filled with quiet cars and the occasional children’s screech from their strollers that pushed by. It was all so calming, the sound of your new home. Sounds you hoped would become familiar overtime and still shared with Carmen.

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drabbles-mc · 9 months

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You Have Friends?

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader Richie Jerimovich & Carmy Berzatto & Neil Fak

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: friends with benefits

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical chaos

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I love them. I love them all so much. I can and would kill a man for Neil Fak.

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

You had your phone out, ready to call or text him to come and meet you outside. You weren’t expecting the door to be unlocked, but it pulled open with no resistance. Your eyebrows lifted, and for a moment you still contemplated just calling him anyway. But then you heard the crashing sounds, the subsequent yelling after the fact, and you knew that even if you called him repeatedly he wasn’t going to pick up the phone. Especially not when he was one of the people doing the yelling.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside and let the door fall shut behind you. The metallic clanging of the door hitting the frame was a sound you were certain no one else heard other than you. You took careful steps through the restaurant, or what used to be a restaurant, what was going to be a restaurant again in a couple months, apparently. There was debris everywhere, and the deeper you walked, the more the yelling made sense. Although, knowing Richie, yelling would happen even when it didn’t make sense. Italian aesthetic for the least Italian man you know.

Passing by a tarp, the one spray painted by someone who was clearly angry when they got the can of paint in their hand, you finally landed yourself where everyone was gathered. Carmy and Richie were chest-to-chest, or their approximation of that as Richie towered over him. Fak was on standby, and based off of what Richie had told you, you were certain that Fak was ready to jump in on Carmy’s behalf and not Richie’s.

There were a few other people there too. You recognized Natalie, worry and frustration all over her face as she watched Carmy and Richie yell and duke it out with each other. Your eyes widened as you took in the entire scene playing out in front of you. It clicked for you why Richie never told you to stop by.

Finally, she snapped. “Will you two shut the fuck up, please?! This isn’t solving anything!”

Richie shook his head, stepping back from Carmy only to aggressively gesture at him instead. “Nothing this dickhead is doing is solving anything! That’s the whole fuckin’—”

“I’m sorry,” Carmy interrupted Richie’s tirade, no longer looking at the man who had just been about to throw him through the crumbling sheetrock walls around them, “um who, who are you?”

Your eyes widened further not just at the fact that he was looking at you, talking to you, but at the drastic shift in his voice. He was quiet now, tone almost gentle, but clearly very confused. You cleared your throat, the nerves you’d felt standing in front of the restaurant were back in full-swing now that the yelling had stopped.

“Hi, sorry. I just—” you stopped short and held up the leather jacket in your hand as your only explanation.

Richie’s originally surprised expression had shifted to confusion. But once he saw the jacket in your hand, it changed into something else entirely. Almost soft. As soft as he would allow himself to be in the middle of the warzone.

“Shit,” his shoulders dropped and he stepped away from Carmy. “Thank you. Completely fuckin’,” he didn’t finish the sentence throwing out a vague hand gesture instead.

You chuckled quietly, still feeling awkward in the midst of it all but not quite as much now. Richie was, strangely enough, your tether in the midst of whatever storm you’d stumbled into. “I know.”

You handed it over to him, looking around at everyone who was looking at you. Maybe you should introduce yourself to the room. You knew most of them, or knew of them at least. Richie talked about them enough to make you feel like you knew them—you saw the pictures in his apartment, on his phone. Judging by the various looks of shock and confusion on everyone else’s faces, he was not as talkative about you as he was about all of them. That was about what you expected. You waited to see if Richie was gonna introduce you instead of making you do it, but he looked just about as lost as anyone else.

Clearing his throat, he nodded back the way you’d come in. “I’ll walk you out.”

You nodded, looking around at everyone. “It’s was nice to…you know…” you waved awkwardly. “Bye.”

The variety of goodbye’s that you got from everyone in the room was humorous. Or it was to you, at least. Judging by the look on Richie’s face you had the feeling that he was never going to be hearing the end of everything that just transpired over the last sixty seconds. You knew that whatever that was wasn’t their best behavior, but it was the best they could conjure up given your unexpected arrival and the fact that they had no idea who the fuck you were. It was a little impressive, honestly, especially if any of them were anything like Richie.

“I was gonna call,” you said as you and Richie made your way back through the minefield, trying to take all the same steps you had on the way in but in reverse lest you cause something else to collapse, “but then the door was open so I sorta just let myself in.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” He paused as he reached to open the door for you. “How much of that did you catch?”

You laughed. “Um, caught just about everything after you told one of them that you are ‘perfectly fucking capable’ of tearing the wall down safely.”

Richie shook his head. “Fuckin’ Fak.”

You continued, not acknowledging his statement with anything but a smile. “Which, no offense,” you looked over at him, “I heard the crashing when I walked in. Not sure how true that is.”

“Not you too,” he shook his head as you both stood in the doorway. You were standing just out on the sidewalk, Richie just barely inside the hollowed-out restaurant.

“Just keepin’ it real,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender.

Richie was still shaking his head as he looked up at the sky for a moment, like he was visibly trying to talk himself out of saying something shitty. Finally looking back at you, he said, “Thanks for the jacket.” He shook it in his hand to emphasize his point.

“I know you guys are,” you made a general circling motion with your hand in the direction of the restaurant, “but call me when you’re done if you want.”

“Alright, yea.” He ran his hand across his brow-line. “I’ll let you know.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.” You leaned in, stealing a chaste kiss before stepping back away again. “Oh, and Richie?”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Yea?”

“Take it easy on Carmy.” You laughed. “It’s fucked up to bully children.”

Richie laughed, tension dropping from his shoulders a little bit. “He makes it too easy, though. Candy from a fuckin’ baby, I swear.”

You laughed a little harder at that, shaking your head. “That’s exactly my point.” You watched him roll his eyes at you and all you could do was smile. “Talk to you later.”

“Yea, yea, I’ll see you.”

Richie stood there in the doorway and watched as you walked back down the sidewalk. You got a few strides away and realized that you hadn’t heard the clattering of the door shutting. When you turned around and saw him standing there still looking at you, you laughed and shook your head at him. He smiled, but rather than saying anything else, he just gave you the finger before pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his track pants.

When he walked back into the construction area, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. By that point, everyone only consisted of Fak and Carmy. Natalie must’ve handed out tasks to just about everyone else, things they could do that didn’t involve trying to work through the mess that Richie had just inadvertently created with the disintegrating wall.

“Who was that?” Carmy immediately asked when Richie stepped back in the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it.”

Fak piped up. “Is she your girlfriend? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up, Neil,” Richie snapped with a shake of his head.

“Is she, though?” Fak didn’t let up.

“No—what—what are we, fuckin’ twelve? She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s stopping by!” Fak countered. “With your jacket!” He gasped dramatically. “Do you sleep over?”

“I’m gonna put you through that fuckin’ wall, I swear to god.”

Carmy was half-covering his mouth with his hand watching the two of them going back and forth. He tried not to smile. “She’s not your girlfriend, then. So, so what is she?”

Richie threw his hands up, jacket flapping as he did. “Why are we even talkin’ about this right now? Don’t you have a restaurant to open?”

“Can’t open shit when you’re knocking all the walls down,” Carmy shot back with a small smirk pulling at his lips. He paused. “What’s, what’s the deal?”

Richie shook his head, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of the conversation without giving some kind of answer. For as annoyed as he was, he also had a sliver of awareness in the back of his mind that when the shoe is on the other foot he was just as relentless, if not more.

“I met her on, fuckin’, you know,” he patted at his pants pocket where his phone was. “And she’s cool.”

“But not your girlfriend,” Carmy clarified.

“No. We’re like, friends with benefits or whatever you fuckin’ lizards call it.”

“You have friends?” Carmy asked with a laugh.

“She gives you benefits?” Fak piped up, his voice that same shocked almost-whisper he used so often.

Richie was shaking his head at both of them. He pointed at Carmy, using the hand that was still clutching his jacket. “Fuck you—yes, I have friends.” He turned to Fak and pointed at him next. “And fuck you, yes I get benefits!” He punctuated the sentence by giving him a good shove.

“Think she’s still gonna give you benefits after seeing you act like a fucking maniac in here today?” Carmy asked, eyebrows slightly raised as he tried and failed miserably at not looking amused.

“Pfft,” Richie shrugged like he was so unbothered by it, like he was far cooler than he really is, “bet I’ll get even more benefits now.”

“Gross,” Carmy responded with a laugh.

“So gross,” Fak agreed.

“You fuckin’ asked,” Richie argued, pointing back and forth between the two of them.

Before they could descend further into the madness, Natalie’s voice came ringing in front the office. “Neil! Sweetheart! Come here for a second, please.”

“Coming!” he called back, charming as ever. He looked at Richie, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re gross.”

“And you don’t fuck, Neil Fak,” Richie replied without missing a beat.

Once he walked out of the room, Richie and Carmy both instantly broke down laughing. They were both shaking their heads, at each other, at Fak, at all of it. The entire morning had been a mess, just like most of the other mornings preceding it. It was so easy to get lost in it sometimes that giving each other shit over things like that was a breath of fresh air in the strangest way. Bullying each other just for the sake of it not because it felt like the restaurant was imploding and they were each trying to cope with it the only way that they really knew how.

“Hey, cousin,” Carmy spoke up after things had quieted between them again. It looked at Richie who was looking down at the jacket in his hand.

“Yea?” Richie pulled his eyes back up.

He nodded in the direction of the door. “That all good?”

Richie shrugged, nodded. “It’s all good.”

The ends of Carmy’s mouth lifted into a tiny grin. It was genuine, still just a touch of humor to it because they were still the exact men that they were. “Alright.” He clapped Richie on the back. “C’mon, let’s clean up this fuckin’ wall you knocked down.”

“I didn’t knock—”

“You fuckin’ did!” Carmy said with a laugh.

“You know what? Whatever,” Richie shook his head. Turning on his heel, he went to put his jacket away, somewhere out of the danger zone. “Grab a fuckin’ broom, then.”

Carmy was shaking his head, already making his way to get supplies to start containing the mess. He grabbed a garbage can and a broom, chuckling to himself when he heard Fak and Richie pick up their arguing all over again just a few yards away.

#navy and roos sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #the bear fx #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #x reader #x reader fic #slumber party bingo #slumber party #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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omgrachwrites · 4 months

Text

Date Night - Carmy Berzatto

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You and Carmy go on your first date.

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this, please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

part two

Natalie glanced at you as you walked into the living room to show off your outfit, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her facial expression was the same as you twirled in front of her, showing her the outfit from all angles.

“What do you think?” you asked as you smoothed your hands down your dress.

Nat laughed, “sweetie, you look beautiful.”

You pouted at her, “you’ve said that about every single outfit I’ve chosen,” you look down at the dress.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, “because it’s true, you’re beautiful. You could wear a bin bag and Carmy would still be crazy about you.”

You smiled as you sat next to her, your date with her brother wasn’t until later on tonight but you were nervous. You really wanted this to go well and you didn’t want to do anything that would screw this up.

“I’m nervous, Nat,” you admitted and she smiled at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Carmy really likes you, Y/N,” she sighed as her phone buzzed and she checked it, “damn, I gotta go, they need me at the restaurant. Good luck tonight, you’ll do great,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug.

All day you lounged around, doing nothing, last night you’d had the shower where you scrubbed and shaved everything and everywhere. You weren’t expecting anything to happen, not on the first date – Carmy would be too shy to make a move – but you just wanted to be prepared. Finally, it was time for you to get ready, you curled your hair and applied your makeup light and pretty, with the help of a large glass of wine.

When Carmy knocked on your door, you slipped your heels on and grabbed your bag before pulling open the door. Your throat went dry as you looked up at him. He looked so gorgeous, he was wearing a tight white button down shirt that accentuated his muscles and over the top he was wearing a black suit jacket. He was holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers. His cheeks were flushed as his eyes drank in the sight of you.

He smiled as he ran a hand through his curls, “you look amazing.”

“Thanks Carm, so do you.”

The redness on his cheeks only deepened as he held out the flowers, “these are for you.”

You smiled as you took the flowers, “they’re beautiful, come in and I’ll put them in some water,” you let him in as you arranged the flowers in a vase, “you want a drink?” you glanced over your shoulder.

He shook his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “nah, don’t want to miss the reservation.”

You smiled as you finished arranging the flowers and took his hand, “then let’s go,” you flushed as he linked your fingers together.

The restaurant was just an uber ride away and Carmy held your hand as he helped you out of the car. The restaurant looked beautiful – and fancy – you felt a little out of place. Carmy must have noticed because he squeezed your hand and you looked over at him.

“You okay?”

You smiled as you leaned over and kissed his cheek, “yeah, as long as I can take you to my favourite dive bar afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grinned.

At first, you thought it was going to be awkward but as you were sat at the best seat in the house the both of you launched into conversation just as easily as you always did.

“How’s the restaurant?” you asked as you took a swallow of wine.

Carmy rolled his eyes with a quick laugh, “everyone’s at each other’s throats but they seem to be working together well enough. How’s the pasta?” he grinned with a twinkle in his gorgeous eyes.

“It’s good,” you nod as you eat a forkful, “but your pasta is my favourite.”

He grinned as he nudged his leg against yours, “you’re my favourite.”

For dessert the both of you shared a dish of lemon sorbet with a couple of vodka shots poured into the bottom. By the time you reluctantly let Carmy pay the bill – he wouldn’t let you split it – the both of you were pretty buzzed as you stumbled to the bar. The bar was a typical dive, the floor was sticky and it stank of beer but you felt comfortable, and you could tell that Carmy was too.

He thanked you as you handed him a pint of beer and he nodded over at the pool table, “you wanna play?”

“I’m rubbish at pool, I can barely hold a pool cue,” you laughed.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” those big blue eyes talked you into it and you relented as he led you over to the pool table.

He set up the table and you couldn’t stop watching as his tattooed fingers rearranged the balls and he gave you a lazy, lopsided grin, “you wanna break? I’ll show you how.”

You smiled, “sure.”

Butterflies shot through your stomach as he took your hands in his, he stood behind you and showed you how to properly hold the pool cue. He leaned over you, just like they did in the movies and with Carmy’s help you managed to break.

“There you go,” he whispered in your ear and tingles shot up your spine as he kissed your cheek.

It was hard to keep up the pretence and you slipped up when you pocketed a ball. Carmy stood there staring at you with his mouth open.

“You lied! You’re hustling me!”

You laughed at his accusation, “fine, I’m not as bad as pool as I made out to be. And hustling is when you do it for money.”

He rolled his eyes with a grin, “you owe me.”

You ended up winning the game of pool and Carmy looked at you with a look of mock disappointment on his face as he shook his head, “I am so disappointed, that you won by cheating.”

You giggled, “you’re so dramatic. How’s this, I’ll let you pick your consolation prize?”

Carmy grinned as he pulled you closer by your waist and kissed you deeply, you were in shock and you hesitated for a split second before you kissed him back. You placed your hands on his firm chest as you pulled away just a little, “wow that’s funny, that’s exactly what I was gonna pick for my winning prize.”

He smirked as he cupped your cheek, “what an amazing coincidence,” he chuckled as he wrapped a hand in your hair and kissed you again, this time he snuck his tongue into your mouth. That’s how you spent the rest of the night, playing pool and making out.

He walked you up to your apartment, his fingers laced through yours, “I had a really good time tonight, Carm.”

“Me too, even if you did cheat at pool.”

You laughed, “I did not cheat!” you got your keys out of your bag and you looked at Carmy, “you want to come in?”

Carmy smiled but shook his head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N, I’d end up doing something we’re not ready for,” he chuckled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “but I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll see you soon,” you nod and he leaned in to give you another breath taking kiss that made you feel like you were a teenager all over again.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #reader insert #carmy x you #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #fluff #carmy fluff

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darlingshane · 11 months

Text

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #darlingwrites #smut #fluff

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galaxysgal · 5 months

Note

hi! i'd like to ask prompt 🍽 ─ prepare the christmas dinner together with single dad!carmy x younger reader (maybe in her mid 20s idk)

thank you <33 i love your writing

michellin star on the tree || carmen berzatto

pairing: single dad carmy x younger reader

warnings: literally none. not even a swear.

a/n: this is so so cute and i love carmy sm oh my god. implying that the reader is in grad school so like early/mid twenties.

heavy snowfall and harsh winds have shrouded the city of chicago in a gentle silence. you collect the extra plates that had been for sydney, natalie, richie and the rest and with one strong arm around bella, you lift the plates back into their place in the china cabinet.

the smells from the kitchen are delightful. ham, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes with gravy, all of it is so enticing. carmen's been in the kitchen all afternoon, cooking up a storm while you and bella had played in the snow until it got too thick and too cold for you both.

now you're safe and sound inside. after you'd changed bella into dry clothes and while you showered, the snow had continued to fall harder and harder. by the time you were done, skin dewy and hair pleated into neat braids, there was a severe weather advisory in place. just like that, your turn to host christmas dinner was effectively canceled.

bella had cried at first, of course, because what's christmas to a four-year-old without family and gifts? but you'd managed to calm her down with a cup of warm cocoa and a call to sydney, who promised to come by and play as soon as the weather allowed her.

bella says your name softly, tugging at your sleeve as you search the kitchen for flashlights and batteries. "whats up kiddo?" you ask.

"'m hungry," she whines, and you chuckle in response.

you're about to tell her the food's almost done, until carmy's taking his daughter right from your arms. "you're always hungry," he says, sitting her on the counter and tickling her tummy.

"daddy!" bella shreiks, kicking her little feet in self defense. "that tickles!"

"gotta tickle all the hungry outta ya, kid," carmy tells her.

you stand there looking on at the two of them. carmen, and his little angel. he's such a good dad to bella. it warms your heart to see him like this, all giggly and warm, loving in the most pure sense of the word.

when the giggles have subsided and bella's wiggled off the counter, carmy pulls you to his side. you rest your head against his, leaning on him and looking over the assortment of food he's prepared.

"i'm sorry you did all this for nothing," you tell him.

and of course he just shakes his head, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. "not f'nothing, baby, for you. you work so hard at school, thought the least i could do for my little phd candidate was cook this big ol' christmas dinner."

"for me?" you ask softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"all f'you, sweetheart. you an' bella, my girls." he hugs you tighter, pulling you so that your chest is against his own. "you're so good to us both. this is my way of sayin' thank you."

end.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #mags writes #mags' winter sleepover #mags' winter sleepover: fics #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #fx the bear

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etherealising · 11 days

Text

chapter fourteen | your love is not too kind

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you begin your hunt for a special surprise, while cortez and syd gang up on you. also an adventure between you and carmy ensues where you both receive advice from two very nosy old ladies, out of love of course. (honestly just a fun incoherent day with our two losers).

wc: 7.6k (thass a lot of filler)

The harsh cold of the Chicago air sporadically whipped across your face, the wind cut into the small patches of skin that weren’t covered by the scarf you chose to wear. You occupied yourself with the loose bits of concrete surrounding the sidewalk, kicking a few rocks around with the toe of your boot, one hand tucked tightly into your pocket while the other began feeling numb as you held your phone up to your ear.

Your eyes found Cortez’s figure inside the small cafe the two of you decided to meet up at, a smile tugging on your lips as you watched him converse with the person behind the counter while he waited for your orders.

The voice of the event planner on the other line continued droning on about what was expected of you at the gala tonight as if they hadn’t spoken to you in the months leading up to the gala or profusely sent you emails with an itinerary. You wished there was some way for you to get out of the whole ordeal, a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have minded but now you were resigned to spending your night with Hayden and a bunch of other mediocre middle-aged men who would pay you compliments for everything besides the journalistic work you pride yourself on.

You let out a small sigh followed by a noncommittal hum as you listened to the line go silent for the final time, stuffing the phone into your jacket pocket just in time to gratefully receive the to-go cup of hot cocoa Cortez patiently held out to you.

A nod of appreciation was sent his way as the two of you began your walk to the restaurant, your brows furrowed at the neatly wrapped box in his hand that wasn’t occupied with his cup of tea, “You buy the whole bakery or something?” You nodded towards what you assumed was a pastry box when he looked over in your direction.

A small smirk pulled at his lips “Nah, after ya little story about that sad ass baby shower you threw for Natalie, thought I could bring her some pastries ya know since I ain’t get no invite or nothin’.” You rolled your eyes slightly shoving your elbow into his side as you laughed him off.

“Aren’t we like not supposed to have a personal relationship outside of this sponsor sponsee situation?” A slight smile tugged at your lips as you listened to Cortez’s scoff.

“The way yo ass use me like a personal diary we might as well be fuckin’ friends.” Cortez turned his head away from you hoping it was enough to hide the small uptick of his lips, but it did next to nothing as you caught a quick glimpse of it.

You opened your mouth to respond, apologizing lightly to the stranger you almost ran into while your eyes were on Cortez. The man let out a huff of annoyance before carefully balancing his cup of the pastry box and then looping his free arm through yours.

“Bad enough I gotta listen to yo dramatic ass life stories, now I gotta be yo guide dog too?” Regardless of the quiet laugh he let out to signify he was joking, you weren’t sure how you put up with constantly being roasted by the man whenever you were in his presence.

You took another sip of your hot cocoa appreciating the way it warmed you from the inside out, a thought coming to you as you fixed your hold on the cup. “You seemed to know that barista at the cafe pretty well.” It was hard to keep the curiosity out of your tone, hoping if you avoided his stare he wouldn’t clock that you were trying to pry into his personal life.

Cortez let out a chuckle shaking his head at your antics, finding it amusing that you wouldn’t just outright ask him whatever questions you had considering all the times he’d intently listened and advised any dilemmas you went through. “Damn girl, you hella nosy!”

It was hard to hold back the laughter that began to bubble in you at those words, Cortez’s innate sassy nature was something you would always appreciate about him. “Nah I’m playin’,” the almost shy smile on his face cut off his words, and the reaction surprised you. “But uh, I been frequentin’ that cafe for a bit. They uh asked for my number last time I was there, we been talkin’ and shit.” He shrugged it off like he didn’t just tell you the most exciting news you’d heard all week.

Although his complexion didn’t allow for a blush to spread across his cheeks, you could tell he was flustered just by the way he was trying to hide his smile. “Talkin’ and shit hmm,” your imitation of him drew a frown from the man. “Is that all the two of you are doing?”

Cortez chuckled at the teasing undertone in your voice, “Ion really think that’s ya business ma.”

A quiet scoff left you at Cortez’s answer of course he would give you a morsel of his personal life, only to take it away when you got too curious. You didn’t mind though his life wasn’t really any of your business but you sure as hell liked to bug him about it like it was.

“What about you, still cut up over homeboy who stay playin’ with you?” If you spent any more alone time with this man you were sure your eyes would permanently get stuck in the back of your head from all the rolling they did.

“You don’t have to say it like that and actually ‘ion really think that’s ya business bro’.” The laughter from the two of you came immediately at how ridiculous you sounded when trying to mimic Cortez’s vernacular. The strange look from those gathered around you as you waited to cross the street did little to appease your good humor.

The two of you continued the rest of your journey in mostly silence unless one of the two of you made a quip here and there. You weren’t sure what compelled Cortez to tag along with you to the restaurant especially since you’d spoken in length about how you were doing with your sobriety back at the cafe, if anything you were sure Cortez’s nosiness was catching up to him and he wanted to put a face to all the myriad of names you mentioned. But you’d pretend his excuse about seeing Natalie was legitimate.

You stopped in front of the restaurant, the windows covered and not allowing anyone on the outside to see in. You looked back at Cortez for a moment, eyes narrowing as you watched a smug smirk grow on his lips, “What’s that look for?”

His smirk widened as he leaned around you opening the door, “Nothin’ ma just excited to meet that loser you stay fuckin’ cryin’ over.”

You scoffed turning to enter the restaurant, only to be stopped by the sound of Nat’s voice coming from behind the two of you causing you to turn in your tracks with a smile on your face as she approached both of you. Pleasantries were exchanged as the three of you headed inside, your eyes landing on exactly the person you were looking for as you excused yourself from the conversation.

As you made your way further into the restaurant, you realized what was so different about it. It was weird the more you looked around, you realized just how much things had changed thus far. In reality, the only major change you could pinpoint was the lack of walls, but it was also more than that to you, it was no longer the restaurant you once used to come to on the weekends when you and Carm were kids. While most of the foundation was the same there would be no more looking at a particular spot and being sucked into a memory from all those years ago. It was refreshing, to say the least, but it also felt like the last tangible piece of Mikey was being torn down bit by bit, piece by piece.

Nat’s laugh broke you from your reverie, your eyes finding her still locked in conversation with Cortez, whatever stress you’d seen on her face outside had calmed a bit as she spoke with the man. You turned moving to the man you were here to speak to, eyebrows furrowing as you watched Syd look at dishes on the table.

“Fak, hey mind if I cut in?” You waited for his response watching as his eyes darted between you and the man he was speaking with, the latter sending you a welcoming smile as he held his hand out to introduce himself.

The panicked look on Fak’s face as he fought the urge to step away and speak with you made it clear whatever he was doing with Tim was important, so you decided he could be privy to the conversation.

“If I let you in on a super secret mission, you have to promise me Carmy doesn’t find out.” You looked down at Fak in his seated position, the rapid nod of his head enough to let you know your words caught his attention.

You looked around the restaurant just to make sure Carmy hadn’t made a surprise appearance before turning and taking the nearest chair to sit in, leaning forward and beckoning Fak with you, Tim watching from his place next to Fak somehow just as intrigued.

“Okay, I need you to tell me everything you know about what happened to Mikey’s jean jacket, you know the one with that cool blanket lining?” You watched as realization flashed across Fak’s face.

His hands flew to his mouth as he tried to hide his excited laugh, the noise drawing not only Syd’s attention but Nat and Cortez’s as well before they returned to what previously held their attention. Your eyebrows furrowed as you shushed him hoping it wouldn’t draw anyone else’s attention.

“You’re trying to find the jacket for Carmy!” Your eyes widened at how loud he said Carmy’s name, regretting your decision to do this at the restaurant. “So is this like a lover’s gift because you know I’m Carmy’s best friend,” he paused, wincing as he looked at you. “No offense Baby, but you’d be like the coolest fucking girlfriend ever if you found that jacket for Carm.”

While Fak’s excitement made you feel hopeful that getting the jacket would be easier than you once thought, you needed to nip this idea of you and Carmy being an item in the bud before Fak got too carried away, no matter how much the idea warmed you inside.

“Uh…no, no Fak were just friends, but if I’m going to relieve you of best friend duties- thanks for stepping in for the past 10 years by the way,” you gave him a small wink. “I need your help to find that jacket, please.” The puppy dog eyes weren’t necessary but you needed to assure his help.

Fak kept quiet as he looked at you, both of you easily ignored Tim as he sat watching the stare-off between the two of you intently, waiting for one of you to crack. It was immediate the way Fak deflated into himself the excitement still there as he began telling you the information he knew.

You politely nodded along as Fak went off on various tangents, paying extra attention as he recounted Carm being beaten up by someone in a carrot costume, wanting to keep that in the back of your mind just in case you needed it. A few more attentive nods and quiet “mhms” left you before Fak finally gave you something you could work with.

“Chi-Chi? And you’re sure he has the jacket?” You were surprised, to say the least, but after listening to Fak explain how tough things got at The Beef, you understood the need for quick cash. Your mind tried to remember how you overlooked the state of the restaurant when helping out Richie last year.

“Thanks, Fak I really appreciate the help, don’t let Carm find out though please?” You raised your eyebrows hoping he realized how serious you were, your eyes dropping to his extended pinky before letting out a quiet laugh and connecting your pinky’s in a pinky promise.

You gave Fak one last smile in thanks before apologizing to Tim for interrupting their riveting conversation about music and returning the chair to the table you stole it from. As you looked up you caught Syd’s knowing smile out of the corner of your eye, the seat next to her occupied by none other than Cortez, a smile of his own lining his lips.

“Don’t you two just look cozy.” Your voice was sarcastic as you looked between the two of them, sure they heard the whole conversation and even more sure that Cortez provided Syd with commentary. Your eyes fell to the small wares lined up on the table trying to distract yourself from Cortez’s smug grin.

Cortez cleared his throat, “Baby?” The smile was evident in his voice before your eyes shot up to his. “Oh that shit was serious,” he paused on a laugh hand moving to wipe across his mouth. “Not you walkin’ around lettin’ grown ass men call you Baby.”

You looked in Syd’s direction for help, an awkward smile lined her lips as she looked between the two of you. “It’s a childhood nickname, why are you still here anyway?”

He shrugged finger tracing across one of the plates, “Nat asked me to stick around for lunch, and ya girl over here was starin’ at these dishes hard as hell, thought she could use a pastry.”

Your eyes narrowed at Cortez’s words, his hands holding out the pastry box to you in offering. Nat wasn’t around to corroborate his story but you also knew he was just as nosy as you and probably took up Nat’s offer in hopes of meeting Carm, you brushed it off before turning back to Syd.

“Why isn’t Carm helping you with all this?” Your hand moved in a gesture to everything set out on the table, you could feel the tension radiating off Syd like it was something palpable.

The look on Syd’s face was a mix of irritation and exhaustion as she looked at you before looking in Cortez’s direction, the man all ears as she decided whether or not to talk about what was plaguing her in mixed company.

“Oh, you know Carm, everywhere and nowhere,” she gave a forced laugh before finding your eyes, the look on your face telling her to cut the shit. “He’s stressing me out more than I already am, which isn’t great. There’s so much to get done and when I bring it up he’s already working on a million other things, or he’s just not even here”

You nodded understanding her frustration, “Makes sense, is there anything I could do to help maybe?” It was a shot in the dark but you understood how Carmy could get, and Syd didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his shenanigans.

“I uh…maybe like I dunno, not occupy so much of his time…please?” Syd wouldn’t meet your eyes as she fiddled with the plate closest to her turning it back and forth. You were too shocked to say anything, Cortez’s chuckles filled the space your voice hadn’t.

“Damn ma, you just out here makin’ everyone’s life fuckin’ harder huh? Thought I was special.” Cortez sent you a small pout as you turned in his direction.

You sent him a mocking pout to match his, tired of being bullied by the man in front of you. “I’m sorry, why the fuck is the peanut gallery speaking?” He rolled his eyes mocking your words before you looked back in Syd’s direction, “Listen, Syd, I didn’t realize I was monopolizing all of Carmy’s time, and I apologize for any stress I’ve caused you, but for now on I’ll be more mindful of your time.”

Syd sent you a small smile, her shoulders relaxed as she realized you weren’t upset with her. Could her words have been nicer, maybe, but without them you wouldn’t have realized just how much Carmy spending time with you was taking away his attention from the restaurant. And while Syd definitely should’ve voiced her concerns to Carm, you were sure she was taking the less volatile approach by speaking with you.

The sound of Syd calling Carmy over drew your attention, your eyes immediately met Cortez’s as his eyes moved from a spot behind you before landing on yours. The two of you had a silent conversation through your eyes, trying your best to shut down any thoughts running through Cortez’s mind as a smug smile graced his features, hands raising in acquiescence.

A warmth at the small of your back had you turning to Carmy. His body now stood next to yours, you tried to tame your smile in front of Cortez not wanting to give him any more ammunition to tease you with. It was subtle but you felt the warmth of Carmy’s fingers trace across your lower back before his hand fell to his side.

“Hey,” his voice was breathy, quiet as his eyes roamed over your face taking inventory. “Are you good, did you eat?”

You gave a soft nod doing your best to ignore the way Cortez and Syd turned to look at each other in your peripheral vision.

“Homeboy just looks lost 24/7 don’t he?” Cortez’s words met your ears, you listened as Syd hummed in agreement, your eyes turning to the two culprits, Carmy’s following shortly after. Cortez stood up after that leaning over the table with his hand outstretched, “Good to properly meet you, kid, seein’ as we ain’t get a chance to talk last time I saw you.”

Cortez’s words confused you, eyes following the hesitant way Carmy’s hand met his. “You two know each other?”

Cortez shrugged smirking in your direction, “I ain’t say all that,” he paused before his eyes shifted to Carmy’s eyes his smirk widened. “Baby over here, talks so fondly bout you homie, feel like I already know you.”

You rolled your eyes at Cortez’s antics letting out a sarcastic laugh before gesturing between the two of them and speaking, “Cortez meet Carmy, Carmy meet Cortez.”

Carmy stood tensely beside you his fingers bumping into yours as his hand moved across his body to scratch his tricep, “I uh, remember you…from the church.” Carmy began nodding his head, this whole situation was news to you but it made sense considering neither man knew who the other was until today.

“That’s great, this is great. I love reunions, quick kinda off topic question which plates should we use to serve our guests, or are we going for a whole like BYOP vibe?” Syd’s hands gestured to the table with the various choices on it.

It was quiet for a moment as Carmy’s eyes flashed across the selection, “What’s BYOP?”

“Bring Your Own Plate.” Your voice along with Cortez’s rang out in sync before the man raised his hand towards you waiting as you reached out to high-five him both of you laughing.

Syd and Carmy shared a moment staring between the two of you before their eyes met. Carmy couldn’t understand it but for some reason seeing you and the man he now knew to be Cortez reminded him of you and Mikey.

“Um, this plate.” Carmy’s hands reached for a sleek black plate that you admired as he set down.

Syd grimaced before speaking up, “Well, that's 55 bucks a plate for that type of silence, so... ”

Cortez let out a low whistle as he leaned in closer to look down at the plate, “Damn y’all got money, them some nice ass plates.” Cortez looked up at the silence that fell over the group, “I can see my opinion ain’t wanted,” he raised his hands in surrender. “But when you got time I’ma need the name of the designer cause these mugs is fresh as fuck.”

You let out a quiet laugh, Syd’s mouth twitching at the corners from Cortez’s humor, “I’ll keep that in mind for your birthday…are sponsees allowed to gift their sponsors, things?”

“The best gift you could get me is yo ass shuttin’ the hell up.” Syd tried to disguise her laugh as a cough when you glared at her, you even saw Carmy’s lips twitch from the peripheral vision.

Before you could respond Nat made her presence known joining the group with an envelope of some sort in her hand. You tuned out the conversation Carmy and Nat engaged in as you occupied yourself with the dishware on the table, cataloging the pieces you thought were nice in your head.

Syd’s tired sigh pulled your attention as you caught the end of the conversation, Carmy offering to drop something off for Nat.

“I can drop that off, that way you two can stay here and get all the hard work done.” The voices quieted as your suggestion rang out, your eyes flashing around the group waiting for a response.

Nat nodded as she began handing the envelope over, “Will you have enough time to get ready for the gala tonight?”

You shrugged not caring too much about the event as you gripped the envelope. Before you could wander off and grab your belongings Carmy spoke up, “I’ll go with you.”

Remembering Syd’s earlier words you offered him a small smile before shaking your head back and forth, “Don’t worry about it, you’ve got plenty of stuff here to worry about.”

Cortez laughed looking between the group gathered around, “Damn it takes two of y’all to drop off a little envelope.”

Carmy ignored his teasing as he began speaking directly to you. “Did you drive here?” You shook your head no at his question, “So you’re just gonna walk all the way to Winnetka?” You weren’t sure when Carmy had become so sassy but you stood there staring at him with a slight smile on your face at his persistence.

“Oh my goodness please just go!” Syd’s words pulled the two of you out of your staring contest, “Just Carm, can we please go over plates and napkins when you get back, maybe even the chaos menu?”

Carmy listened to her request and nodded before turning to you nodding his head and signaling for the two of you to leave. You sighed feeling bad that you were once again occupying Carmy’s time, but the quicker the two of you got this errand done the quicker Carmy could return and get the important work done.

As the two of you moved away from the group, you couldn’t help the small smile as you listened to Syd and Cortez begin a conversation regarding Coach K.

The quiet song playing on the radio was the only noise filling the space of the car, your thumbs twiddled against the steering wheel, eyes locked on the pile-up of cars in front of you. You could feel Carmy’s eyes searing into the side of your head when he stole glances in your direction, for someone who was so adamant on joining your journey, he sure didn’t have much to say.

“Sometimes when I dream, it's always these fucked up scenarios where I’m in a car and I just don’t know how to drive.” You looked over to Carm to see his eyes already on you before continuing. “I always get in these accidents, like the brakes don’t work, or I just fucking crash right? And like what if this is one of those dreams?”

Carmy let out a quiet cough as he looked between you in the driver's seat and the cars ahead of you, “Is there uh…ever any passengers in your dreams?”

You smirked at his question before shrugging, “Sometimes but they never actually have a face, their faces are just smooth.”

“You know how fucked up that sounds?” Carmy’s voice was incredulous as he caught your eyes once more, the two of you sharing a laugh at the whole thing.

While an unusual conversation started, it did the job to break whatever tension had settled between the two of you, as you could see Carmy’s body relax into the seat out of your peripheral.

“So Cortez…he’s your uh sponsor?” Carmy listened as you hummed in approval of his question, his eyes strayed to the way your hands moved to signal a lane change.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to drive knowing how much other drivers pissed you off, “My sponsor, personal pain in the ass. Same difference.” You gave Carm a small smile as you checked the passenger side mirror before merging.

Carm nodded debating whether the questions racing through his mind deserved to be spoken aloud. “What’s it like?” There was a moment of silence between the two of you, Carmy realizing just how insensitive the question was, “Shit uh…you don’t have to answer that.”

Carmy’s question rang through your head as you thought of how to respond. You weren’t sure if meeting Cortez made him so curious or if he had underlying questions since finding out about your accident, it was worth mentioning that your experience wouldn’t help him understand Mikey and his experience even more but that wasn’t a conversation you wanted to get into while driving.

“It’s a lot of fucking discipline,” you stopped trying to gather the best way to articulate your feelings. “There’s this romanticized idea of what being a recovering addict looks like, and it's honestly a bunch of bullshit. People think you make the choice, you get clean, and then like fucking magic you’re just cured.”

Your eyes were hyper-focused on the road as you drove, the words pouring out of you without a second thought. “I’ll be a recovering addict for the rest of my life, there’s no end to this shit. My whole life is different now, the day I chose to use, will affect every single choice I make going forward.”

“And I don’t think I have to tell you, but this shit is a disease. I’m fucking sick Carm, and there’s no getting better, not really. Recovery is like putting a bandaid on a wound that needs fucking life-saving surgery, but the surgery doesn’t exist and you just hope to fucking hell your bandaid will last. I used to be one of those people you know…I thought addicts just had to get clean and all was good again but then I lived that shit.”

Carmy hung onto every word intently, watching the sheen that overcame your eyes as you followed the GPS directions on autopilot, your hands tightening around the steering wheel every few moments as he lost you.

“It’s a lot of pretending too…for me at least, pretending that I’m fine, pretending that the urges aren’t there slowly eating away at me if I give them too much thought.” You paused sniffling as tears fought to drip down your face. “P-pretending I didn’t tell Nat it was her fault that M-Mikey passed, that she should’ve paid more attention as I laid there saying the most vile things hoping they’d give in and just give me something. Pretending I don’t spend days locked away in my room as thoughts of just using one more time bring on bouts of anxious tremors.”

Carm watched you from his spot in the passenger seat, through all that you somehow managed to safely navigate the two of you to your destination. His chest felt tight as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, his eyes catching sight of the way your grip slackened on the steering wheel, the appendages shaking slightly. He could feel the disgust rising in his chest as he realized if it weren’t for his curiosity you wouldn’t be upset.

Carmy unbuckled himself, hands reaching out to collect yours between his. Your unfocused eyes found his as he gave you a minute to collect yourself, the embarrassment of the moment washed over your face. “Sorry, I probably should’ve taken Cortez up on his offer to meet more often.” You let out a pathetic laugh hoping the severe look of concern on Carmy’s face would slowly ebb away.

You allowed him to unbuckle you before his hands found yours once more, you watched as he brought them to settle against his warm chest just barely realizing the slight tremors radiating off of them. He held your hands against his chest allowing the warmth to help calm you down, the steady beat of his heart bringing the comfort you needed.

Carmy’s hands moved from their place atop yours before moving to pull you into his chest as best he could. Neither of you said a word about the uncomfortable way the center console dug into your stomachs. As Carmy’s warm lips pressed into your temple you relaxed into him as much as the positions allowed for his arms bringing you the comfort they always did.

You were thankful that Carmy agreed to the pit stop you’d asked him to make. After sitting in the parking lot for longer than necessary you realized it would be easier to pick up your dress now rather than Carmy dropping you off at home and then leaving to pick it up.

The gentle squeeze to your hand stole your attention, your eyes were staring out the window, not focused on anything in particular as you debated whether to attend the gala or just forget about the whole thing and spend your night home alone. You turned to face Carmy, a small smile on his lips as he nodded to the house he’d parked in front of.

Both of you exited the car meeting up in front of it before you offered him your best encouraging smile and led the way to the door. The warmth radiating off his body behind you is the only notion to let you know he followed you before your hand reached to press the doorbell.

It was a few minutes before a voice yelled from inside the house, noises met your ears as the door was yanked open. The screen door made it difficult to see exactly who stood behind it, but the dramatic gasp let you know who it was.

“Well I’ll be damned Baby, you sure do know how to pick up stray…dare I say bears.” The joke was mediocre at best, but it was Ms. Sadie’s high-pitched laugh that stole a giggle out of you as you turned in Carmy’s direction, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Ms. Sadie left the two of you on the porch, quickly unlocking the screen door as she moved slower than she once did all those years ago, the sound of the lock was enough of an invitation. “We won’t stay long I promise,” you knew just how uncomfortable being social made Carmy. “Take off your shoes.”

Carmy nodded as he watched you step out of your shoes before moving inside his motions following yours. He hadn’t seen Ms. Mable or Ms. Sadie since returning to Chicago, he honestly wasn’t sure they were still alive, but he remembered just how much the two women loved you all those years ago and while he was never as close with them as you and your mom, he felt his cheeks warm at the idea of you bringing him to their house, it didn’t mean anything but he couldn’t help the way his mind read into it.

“Mabel! Baby’s here, and she brought her little friend.” Carmy followed you through the living room as Ms. Sadie’s voice rang through his ears, his eyes floated around the room landing on several photos of you throughout the years, his hand reaching for a photo of the three of you at what he assumed was your college graduation. Carmy’s eyes studied your smile frozen in time, your happiness practically radiated through the picture as you stood in your cap and gown. He knew he would never have these memories with you, and knowing that everyone else besides him celebrated your successes no matter how big or small would always stick with him.

“Carm,” the whisper of your voice made him look in your direction, finding your hand reaching out for him, he gave you his small signature smile before replacing the picture frame.

Carmy allowed you to lead him through the house before the two of you stepped into the sunroom, Ms. Mabel sat at a table, a game of chess in front of her. His fingers twitched as your hand left his to greet the woman, watching as you dropped down to hug her, the older woman’s eyes landing on his as they lit up. He stood awkwardly trying to ignore the glare Ms. Sadie pointed his way as her partner whispered something in your ear. Your soft laugh rang through his head like a breeze in the early morning.

“Carmen Berzatto, you just gon’ stand in my house and not say nothin’?” His eyes widened as he looked between you and Ms. Mabel, mouth opening and closing as he watched a slow smile rise to both of your faces. “M’ just messin’ with you honey, Baby’s been tellin’ us about the restaurant, been wonderin’ when she was gonna bring your round.”

A tense smile raised to his lips, the sense of uncomfortableness slowly ebbing away as you moved back to his side. “Baby, why don’t you go on with Mabel and get your dress, I’ll get Carmen here to help me in the kitchen. I know y’all can’t stay long so we’ll send y’all off with some red beans and rice. How that sound?”

Carmy gave you a reassuring smile as you looked in his direction, he couldn’t voice it but Ms. Sadie intimidated him and he knew her suggestion wasn’t a question but more so a demand as his eyes flitted to Ms. Mabel trying to hide her chuckles behind her hand. His head began nodding before he even realized, your hand reached to give his a light squeeze followed by the smile that was etched into his memory as you and Ms. Mabel left the two of them.

You stepped from behind the partition beaming as Ms. Mabel gasped, clapping her hands. You did a little spin once you made it to the middle of the room stepping on the raised dais so the older woman could assure the alterations were perfect. You watched the woman move around in the mirror thankful for her agreeing to make the few alterations you needed, staring at the way the dress hugged the shape of your body made you feel a bit better about the gala tonight. You hoped the confidence you felt as you stood there would translate to the event and help you get through the night.

“So, you and that Berzatto boy.” Ms. Mabel’s words had a knowing undertone as her eyes met yours in the mirror, a kind smile on her face to let you know her curiosity was genuine.

You gave a slight shrug trying not to show just how flustered the question made you, “We’re friends again if that’s what you're asking.”

Ms. Mabel’s smile widened in the mirror before her mouth opened taking the form of an ‘o’ as she gave you one more once over. “Do you permanently alter your body for all your friends?” The question was paired with her cold fingers tracing the amalgamation of lines that now ran down your spine, a quiet gasp escaped you at the feeling. “Now I was born at night Baby, but I wasn’t born last night. And I know for damn sure you didn’t have this tattoo when I first took your measurements.”

A warmth flushed over your body at having been called out by the older woman as she gestured for you to step off the dais and join her on the settee, your mouth opening to respond.

“Hush up for a minute now,” her wrinkled hands reached out to cup yours as they fiddled in your lap. “It’s beautiful work Baby, don’t get me wrong but I would like to see you find the happiness you deserve before I leave this Earth.” She waved you off as you opened your mouth to protest, “Now Sadie and I ain’t gon’ be here much longer and we love you like you’re our own. But don’t you think you’d be happier if you let that boy go?”

A sigh deflated your body as you took in Ms. Mabel’s words it would have been easy to get defensive and fight tooth and nail for Carmy like you usually did, but you knew she was only asking because of how much she cared about you. You allowed yourself a few seconds of silence as you thought of your response, searching for the best words so as to not disrespect the woman you held in such high regard.

“I think I would be a lot happier if I let Carm go,” saying the words out loud left a bitter taste in your mouth and you weren’t sure if it was the remnants of truth left on your tongue or heartache. “But letting him go wouldn’t remove the space he’s made for himself in my life. We lost contact for 10 years and even that wasn’t enough for me to forget the memory of him. It’s like,” you paused your eyes looking up into Ms. Mabel’s before continuing.

“The love I have for him is burrowed deep in me, like roots. And it’s more than just being in love with him, it’s the love I shared with him growing up, in friendship. I don’t know Ms. Mabel, maybe it would be easier if we didn’t encompass each other’s lives in the way we have, a-and maybe it’s stupid of me to one day hope he could devote himself to me, but whatever love I have for him, I’m just not sure I could find it in someone else.”

The crow's feet by Ms. Mabel’s eyes crinkled up as she offered you a warm smile, her hands squeezed yours as a way to translate the care she had for you. “You know I was married before Sadie right?” Her question had your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I didn’t love him, hardly knew him but all women were good for back then was marryin’ and homemakin’. There was someone else though, and the shame those feelings caused me put enough fear in me to marry that man. And he was a good man, treated me right, respected me, but I just couldn’t love him the way I loved my Sadie.”

There was little surprise on your face as Ms. Mabel revealed the identity of the person who held her true affection. “I won’t get into all the messy details, but when I was finally free of that marriage Sadie and I found our way back to each other, and it was then that I knew, no matter what I could never love another soul in the way my soul loved Sadie’s. So no Baby, it’s not stupid but you can’t allow that type of love to live rent-free in you if whoever’s on the other end of it ain’t returin’ the affection. Sometimes Baby it’s just best to love from afar.”

Ms. Mabel pulled you into a warm embrace as she finished talking, hoping that her words wouldn’t just go in one ear and out the other. “Now gon’ on and get outta that dress you done let me talk your ear off so long you might not have enough time to get ready.” She smiled as you laughed along with her before stepping behind the partition to redress.

You and Ms. Mabel stepped into the living room laughter left the both of you as you maneuvered the dress bag so it didn’t get caught on any of the shelves. Carmy and Ms. Sadie seemed to be in deep conversation as the two of you entered the room, a part of you surprised at how comfortable Carmy looked sitting on the plastic-wrapped couch.

“Sadie stop talkin’ that boys ear off Baby needs to go home and get ready.” The sound of Ms. Sadie sucking her teeth caused you to laugh as Ms. Mabel mumbled about how the other woman talked too damn much.

Ms. Sadie said something to Carmy before rising from the couch taking both of their mugs with her before returning with a plastic bag full of Tupperware, “Oh Baby, you got that little fancy gala tonight don’t you.”

You looked in her direction as you moved through the living room to reach Carmy’s side, “Yes ma’am, Ms. Mabel’s alterations were perfect as always.”

“Mhm, so Carmen here is your plus one?” She raised her eyebrow in question as she handed the bag of food over to the aforementioned man.

You tried to ignore the heat of Carmy’s eyes as he turned to look at you. Shuffling in your spot as you looked to Ms. Mabel for help while she pretended to pick up the nonexistent dust particles on one of the shelves. You weren’t sure why she was even asking this question, you’d explained to both of them you were unsure about inviting Carmy every time Ms. Mabel asked.

“W-well I would love for Carm to come with me,” you looked in his direction as his eyes fell to the floor, a blush coloring his cheeks. “But it’s last minute and who knows if he even has a suit. A-and I’ve taken up too much of his time already. Syd really needs him back at the restaurant.”

Ms. Sadie narrowed her eyes at you being able to smell your bullshit before you even opened your mouth. “Well, speak up Carmen.”

You watched as Ms. Sadie raised her eyebrows to Carmy as he looked up, the older woman trying to communicate something without using words. “N-no…uh yeah, Baby’s right I uh gotta get back to the restaurant.”

Ms. Sadie didn’t even try to hide her sigh of disappointment as she shooed to two of you out of the house, Ms. Mabel joined her partner as they walked you and Carmy out to the porch, “We’ll see you for Sunday dinner right Baby?”

You nodded before being pulled into a hug by both women receiving kisses on both of your cheeks, “And you bet not show up here without Carmen.” Ms. Sadie’s words tickled your ear as she whispered to you before pulling away. You gave her a confused smile while nodding, since you’d been back in Chicago Ms. Sadie had made her disapproval of the youngest Berzatto clear, and you couldn’t pretend to know what had changed in the 30 minutes she was left alone with him.

Ms. Mabel and Ms. Sadie stood on their porch waving you and Carmy off as they watched his car pull away. “What got you invitin’ Carmen to our house for Sunday dinners?” Ms. Mabel looked up at her wife having heard her whisper to you, “Thought you didn’t like that boy after everything.”

The taller woman shrugged her shoulder before wrapping her arm around Ms. Mabel’s waist, “That boy just needed some sense smacked into him.” Before Ms. Mabel could open her mouth to protest, Ms. Sadie hushed her. “I’m just messin’ but before you scold me for not mindin’ my business you better figure out which one of us is the pot and which one is the kettle.”

They divulged into boisterous laughter as they stood there in each other’s embrace. Relishing in just how well they knew each other, “If that hardheaded boy don’t make his move tonight I’m uninvitin’ his ass from Sunday dinner.”

Ms. Sadie’s heart warmed as she watched Ms. Mabel’s face light up from just how much she laughed. Ms. Sadie led the smaller woman into the house, and although her jokes regarding the Berzatto boy got raucous laughter from her lover, she sure would be put out if she sat her old ass on that couch talking sense into that boy instead of watching her program and he decided the wisdom she kindly bestowed upon him didn’t need to be put to use.

a/n: i know this was a bit much for a filler chapter but i promise it sets up a very important story arc that we’ve all heavily been anticipating. hope you all enjoyed, hope you’re all doing amazing my loves! reblogs and comments are much appreciated! 🫶🏽🤎

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x you #carmy the bear x reader #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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ciaonicole85 · 25 days

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Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #fan fic

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boo8008 · 8 months

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Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 01: Quadriller

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Chapter Summery: Carmen arrives in New York, happy to get away from the disaster of one Berzatto Family Christmas. You and carmen however both seem to be too nervous to talk to each other…for now.

Quadriller (v.) to make criss-cross lines on the surface of food, as part of food presentation

Word Count: 2,821

My Notes bb: I’m sorry its so late tonight but I kept going down rabbit holes on information about actual food journalism and I also noticed I have a habit of explaining a lot and putting in random details that I think are important or cool but again this is my first Fanfiction I'm actually sharing so feedback is welcome. I will tell you now that nothing much happens this chapter save for reader and Carmy being introduced, but I do have a plan on that front its just again I'm overthinking stuff lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

2019 (January)

Carmen:

It was peaceful in the kitchen as Donna cooked over the stove, flipping pancakes and frying bacon as she smoked. Carmen, Natalie, and Mikey were sitting at the table as they all joked and talked about something or another. Donna placed the food on the table and they all dug in, each getting a small stack of pancakes and some bacon. Carmen was looking up at Mikey as he poured the syrup, laughing at whatever he was saying.

As he looked down he was confused, written in syrup, “Fuck You Carmen” was on top of the pancakes.

Carmen looked up feeling panicked, only to see the fork stuck atop the plate of cannoli. He looked around to see the far end of the table flipped over and a car that had crashed through the front room. Mikey was yelling at his mom and a horn was blaring, not loud enough to cover the infinite sounds of a million timers going off behind him, along with a smoke alarm. When he turned around to make them stop all he saw was black billowing smoke coming from the kitchen.

Carmen jumped back to reality as the stewardess lightly shook him. Almost as soon as the plane lifted off the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare International Airport he was out like a light. He spent every second sense Christmas Eve beyond stressed and anxious. He was thankful Michelle and Stevie had agreed to let him come stay with them in New York after the new year.

He hoped they hadn't changed their mind as he crossed into the baggage claim area, only to be greeted by Michelle and Stevie, who was holding a sign saying “BEAR-zatto” with a poorly done drawing of what Carmen thinks is a bear. He chuckled at the gaudy neon pink and glittery sign, happy they went so far as to let him come, let alone pick him up and make a sign.

“Oh there he is, Carmen!” Michelle called, waving him over after finally seeing him. “We were starting to think you bailed on us. How are you? How was your flight? Everything go okay?” She asked, now hugging him before pulling back to look at his face.

“Good, yea, fine, the flight was-the flight was good I slept through most of it,” Carmen said, still hazy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face.

“Glad to hear it! Beats our flight back. It felt like it was just crying babies and turbulence; couldn't sleep once,” Stevie chimed in, pulling Carm into an awkward side hug thanks to the just-barely-too-big-to-be-comfortable sign and Carmen’s duffle bag and backpack. An affirmative ‘hm’ was all Carmen could manage, unsure how to respond. Lucky for him, Michelle loves to talk and knew how to keep the conversation going.

“So which of these bags is yours?” she asked as the carousel began spinning and (somewhat violently) ejecting bags. “And how do you like your sign? Stevie’s friend made it; she's kinda like his family's Richie but a bit more-”

“Normal?” Stevie finished.

“Exactly, yea, she thinks of that type of shit a lot,” Michelle continued. “She thought it would be a cute thing I guess, said something about how helpful it would be to find us sense we’d stick out and more welcoming than that one.” She gestured in the direction Carmy came from, where he passed a sign with standard corporate text that read ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK’ and a flat drawing of the city.

Carm was only half listening as Michelle raved on about how the girl did cutesy homemade things all the time and began to ponder why with Stevie, the two knowing the chatter didn’t really interest Carmy as more than background noise. He was on the lookout for his bag which held his prized knifes and chefs whites, just about everything else fit in his beat up duffle and backpack. He would have preferred to keep them with him at all times in an airport just to know they didn't get ruined or damaged in anyway during their transport. But he could also understand why the TSA would say to not bring knifes on a crowded, compact tube that floats in the sky. As soon as he spotted the black metallic cased bag carmen stepped and forward and grabbed it, checking the lock on the side as he stood next to his cousin.

“Jesus Carmen what do you have in there, fucking launch codes?” Michelle asked, seeing the overprotective suitcase.

“My knifes,” was all Carmen mumbled in response hoping it would do. Michelle just shook her head while Stevie nodded, both in disbelief at how weird he was about his tools.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Michelle began, turning to lead the trio out to their car. “She's nice, and she's making us dinner tonight so don't be a dick. She's not a chef but god damn does she make a good baked chicken parm.”

You:

Waking up already today felt nervous. You only had work and dinner with Stevie and Michelle and whoever-the-fuck that you couldn’t remember the name of right now but the thought of work was mixing with it. Having to meet new people was one thing that you saw as dreadful and anxiety inducing; who else could you need to talk to outside of work besides Stevie and Michelle? And having to schedule and deal with interviews with busy high end chefs was another thing. A thing where the problem mostly came when you tried to get things explained in simpler terms than the hoity-toity French or Italian words they chose. Sure you knew what quadriller was but not everyone knew what it meant.

You could understand where they were coming from though in some cases. Mainly the Michelin star worthy ones who put so much pressure on themselves and the chefs under them to deliver perfection for an expensive dish made with the best ingredients. From what you could tell they mainly did it for the people that truly and deeply loved and enjoyed food and would save up to eat at such high end restaurants. It all led to them feeling drained at the end of the day, when the last thing they wanted to do was to explain something they knew so well they’d forgotten it was a name for something.

Luckily today all you had to do was schedule and write a few more paragraphs on your Top Food Trends of 2018 article for your editor to see. You were still working on it and it needed a better name but that wasn't a priority right now, it was mainly getting the bulk of it done and written in words that were more than bullet points and shortened words. And you got off early enough that you had time to run home and hop through the shower before headed to the grocery store on your way to Stevie and Michelle’s. It was the first meal for the new year of your bi-weekly dinners and you knew they probably didn't have much to cook with sense getting back from their Chicago Christmas Trip. Normally Michelle would have stories about someone named Donna doing something crazy and while it was a little funny, when you gave it a seconds thought it made you sad for her family and her that she ended up the way she did. It was something you gotten drunk and emotional talking about with her and she could see your point but that's as much as you could remember of that conversation, besides asking her what the fuck seven fishes had to do with Christmas.

You picked up all the ingredients you would need for chicken parmesan, garlic bread and a tub of gelato, Michelle always had some wine that would go perfectly with whatever pasta so you didn't worry about that. Hopefully the sign you made had gotten Michelle’s cousin’s attention and gotten them out of the airport in a timely manner before traffic hit so you could get a start on dinner as soon as you got there. They had given you a key a year ago so you could get in and start on dinner on days when they were running late, which was often, but you didn't mind as long as you got your fill on non-work related human interaction for the next two weeks.

As you brought in your load of groceries, you saw you were right as far as the low-stocked kitchen. You connected to their bluetooth speakers and started a podcast you'd been meaning to catch up on and got to work. You'd comment on some parts to yourself and got lost in thought on the topic they were discussing and in no time you were putting almost everything in the oven, the bread could wait until 8 minuets before so it was al ready at the same time and the gelato was already in the freezer.

It all seemed perfectly timed as your podcast ended and you were about to start another episode as you heard the front door open.

“God it smells so good!” you could hear Michelle call from the front door. You heard Stevie talking to someone and the sound of suitcase wheels and baggage moving through the front door. Michelle rounded the corner still in her coat and pulled you into a hug. “How are you? How was your week?”

“Fine, not a lot happening in the office so…” you trailed off as you hugged her back. “Got off early enough to shower before I got here.” She pulled back, finally taking off her coat as she headed towards the wine cabinet and Stevie rounded the corner with a beat up duffle bag slung over his shoulder and the neon pink sign you made.

“Hey,” he greeted happily, followed by your name and as best a wave he could manage with a heavy duffle bag on him. “Let me put these down in the guest room and we’ll come actually say hi.” He jet pass the kitchen eager to get the bag off his shoulder and get his coat off and was quickly followed by the third person you still couldn't remember the name of. Cameron? Cory? Conner? Either way he gave you a vague nod of acknowledgement as he rushed pass you seemingly faster than Stevie. He had on a thick wool coat and a baseball cap, but besides that you didn't get a good look at him.

“So should we do the chianti or the pinot noir?” Michelle asked using her mocking tone on the fancy words, bringing your attention back to her as she held up the two bottles.

“Chianti,” you chose. “I like the label more, its prettier.”

“That's one way to choose wine.” she said. She came back over to your side and pulled out the bottle opener as you grabbed the glasses. “Also I'm apologizing now if Carmen’s an asshole about dinner but it runs in the family.”

“Its cool, can’t be worse than Stephen…or you.”

“Oh fuck off,” she said with a smile, pouring the wine. “Who was he again?”

“The guy who wanted to be a ‘chef’ and narrated the whole time I made dinner and couldn't tell me what was wrong with the food besides ‘you just didn't do it right’,” you mocked his dumb voice as you remembered the date. “I mean I know I’m no Gordon Ramsey but I know what I’m doing in general.”

“Right that guy, Jesus your taste in people sucks,” she smiled as she slid the glass to you.

“Yea yea,” you said, taking a sip of your wine as you looked at the timer on the oven and went to put the bread in the oven. “I’d rather have actual input from someone than that shit though.”

“What shit?” Stevie asked walking back into the kitchen, finally relieved of the duffle.

“Vague shit,” Michelle said, vaguely.

“The best kind of shit,” Stevie pulled you into a hug as he finally said a proper hello to you. He turned some to the guy who entered earlier, Carmen you now knew. “This is Carmen, he's a chef, the one I was telling you about with the Noma and stuff.”

“Right, yea, hi,” you greeted, introducing yourself even though Stevie just did it for you, you'd cringe about it later. This is why you don't like meeting new people.

“Hi, your-your the journalist right?” Carmen stuck his hand out to shake yours, and now that he was right in front of you you got a good look at him. Crystalline blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was all mess and curls, he looked tired and anxious. Even his clothing said so; a long sleeve white shirt pushed up to his elbows and jeans both of which seemed rumpled from the flight. You did take note of his tattoos, a snail on his forearm, and a Pyrex measuring cup with the world on the other, you saw on the hand shaking yours the SOU on his fingers.

“Yea food and stuff,” you said, bringing your attention back to his face. All around he was handsome but you could sense the same nerves you had on him. It was a relief when Stevie came back from putting his coat away asking how your Christmas was, saving you both from an awkward conversation.

“Not bad,” you responded. “My parents went to Arkansas for family or whatever and said their sending me some stuff and I got to buy myself a nice dress and no one bothered me over the holiday, an all round a success in my book.”

Just then the oven went off, and you took up Carmen's mumbled offer to get the heavier pan with the chicken and pasta while you grabbed the bread and plates, deciding to come back for the utensils and cheese. Michelle took charge of hers and Carmen's glasses sitting them across from each other as Stevie took his own and the bottle. You had to admit, it felt nice with everyone helping. You came back to the table before realizing you left you own glass, and that you would be sitting next to Carmen and would definitely need it to talk to the stranger.

Finally returning and looking to the table before sitting down you did one last check that everything was there; napkins, plates, forks all checked. The other three were already digging in as Michelle whispered something to carmen that sounded a lot like ‘don't be a dick’. You took one last second and turned on a relaxing playlist for the meal on a low volume and sat down.

“So,” you started. “How was your guys’s Christmas?”

“Shitty.”

“Awful.”

Stevie just frowned and shook his head in response as the other two responded in unison.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, finally serving yourself. Michelle avoided by chugging her wine and Carmen did the same by stuffing his mouth.

“I think its better if we don't talk about it,” Stevie said breaking the silence.

The rest of the meal passed well enough though and everyone seemed to like the gelato with the meal. Carmen didn't talk much, too stuck in his own head thinking about how he had to start looking for a job ASAP. What didn't help were the thoughts of how pretty you looked when he walked in, and especially now that he was closer seated next to you. Your hair and dress styled perfectly with some better suited shoes for the slippery winter weather outside. He quickly talked himself out of pursuing anything with you though, having the small bit of sense to not bring you into his fucked up personal life full of anxiety and stress and pepto. He didn't even know what to say to you now. How would he know what to say on a date? He knew you knew something about food but wasn't sure what exactly it was you knew. What if it was just something to pay the bills and you didn't actually like being a journalist on food? There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable with anything other than small agreements and answers that were as short as possible whenever he was asked something, and he noticed you doing the same thing.

You did your best to not be awkward with Carmen but you both had a wall put up to keep the newcomer out. If it weren't for Stevie and Michelle talking about their plane rides and new years eve stories your pretty sure it would be silent between the two of you. They tried to get you both involved but it was clear enough that wasn't going to happen… not tonight at least.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

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theficplug · 1 year

Text

Chef's Kiss

Carmy & Reader attend his sister's Halloween themed/ costume party.

Carmen Berzatto x Black Reader

[This was supposed to be posted for Halloween. So sorry babes your girl was going through it. But I hope that you still enjoy it all the same.]

18+ smut towards the end so please minors dni. go here instead

unedited.

Going out to party on a Saturday night when he could be at home in bed with you or going out to a drive-in movie with you was not Carmy’s favourite thing, but somehow you convinced him to attend Natalie’s adult costume party and dress up.

Asking him while he was in a good mood because The Bear received 4 and a half star rating and making chocolate chip pancakes for the both of you was the key.

You both decided to go as Linguini & Colette Tatou from Ratatouille and you couldn’t be more excited to actually get out of the house and away from work for once.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you two did something just for the fun of it because you both have been swamped in deadlines and projects and just not enough of each other for your liking.

He pulled together his costume from an old culinary school uniform from his closet complete with the hat and you ordered a sexier version of a chef uniform and a bob wig to complete your version of the Colette look.

You pull down the hem of the dress to fully cover your butt as you step out of the car and grab the bag from the floor.

The nerves were also kicking in once you realised that you were going to be around the majority of Carmen’s family and a few family friends from his childhood for the first time.

You were both standing outside your car in front of Natalie and her husband Pete’s home putting the finishing touches on your costumes.

"You would look so good as a ginger! You gotta say the rat-patootie line for me at least once tonight." You say to him, spraying the last of the orange spray onto his mousy brown locks to complete the look now so that it wouldn’t stain everything at home.

He was holding the little plush Remy toy in one hand and toying with the engagement ring on your left hand with the other.

He sighed and shook his head no before you gave him a small “please?” .

“You know you want to.” you urge him to say the line with a small pout and he starts moving his hands animatedly.

“HEY. Why do they call it that? RATATOUILLE. It’s like a stew, right? Why do they call it THAT? If you’re going to name a food, you should give it a name that’s going to sound DELICIOUS. Ratatouille doesn’t sound delicious. It sounds like rat and PATOOTIE. RAT PATOOTIE. Which does not sound delicious.” Carmen recites, sounding exactly like a drunk Linguini and you fall into him , laughing at how he’s mimicking the character.

"Perfection babe, literal perfection." You say to him still laughing at the things your fiancé does just to see you smile.

Mumbling a little "thank you baby" with a small smile as he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"Can you see my lace?" You question and he's already well trained to know what you're referring to.

He tilts your head down to get a closer look and shakes his head, placing a kiss to the top of your own.

Carmy places his hands on the sides of your face and his eyes piercing into you made you feel like he only ever saw you and nothing else.

“What are you looking at?” you ask with a small smile and he shakes his head, kind of like he’s breaking himself out of his daze.

"You’re so pretty baby. I still can’t wrap my head around it. Can I have a kiss?" He asks, pouting his lips slightly for you to kiss him.

"You're so corny you know that?" you tease. “Love you.” You manage to say against his lips.

"That's true but you didn't say that last night when I was hitting it from the back. I believe your exact words were "yes chef, yes”, but you know I could be wrong. I kind of lose my train of thought when I’m in it. ” He teases.

Richie steps out of the backseat dressed as Shaggy from Scooby Doo with an “Alright, alright , alright. You two gonna help me with the piñata or am I going to have to suffer through a replay of what happened? Cousin, you better have washed that goddamn spatula”.

“You heard that ? When are you and Tiff going to make up because you’ve been on our pull out for like a week now.” You fire back and Richie raises his hands in defeat as Carmy laughs and grabs some extra bags of candy for the piñata and you grab the drinks from the backseat.

The three of you make your way to the doorbell and Natalie, who's dressed full on as Margot Robbie’s version of Barbie, instantly lights up as she wraps her arms around your shoulders.

Her husband Pete steps beside her fully dressed as Ken and greets the 3 of you with a small wave and a polite smile.

“My girl! You convinced him to come and dress up? What kind of superpowers do you have?” She asks jokingly while giving your shoulders a soft squeeze.

“Sugar, good to see you. We brought uh actual Ratatouille, a piñata , and Richie has a few cases of beer. ” Carmy greets her with a side hug and a nod after she finally lets you go.

“Richie.” She says dryly as she glances over his shoulder and sees him smiling in the background holding up a case of beer and the piñata.

“Nat. Where do you want these?” Richie asks, referring to the cases of beer in his hands and ignoring the air of awkwardness.

You look between the two choosing to make a mental note of what happened there for when you and Carmen are in bed later.

“You really went all out. Sis, you’ve already won “best party” already for this year. Look at this!” You say to her looking at the life-sized spiders, punch with eyeballs in it, and all of the other realistic decorations scattered across the rooms. The kitchen even had a fog machine going creating a spooky atmosphere.

Everyone dressed according to the theme and went all out with their costumes and looks ranging from scary to cute to “okay, that was a choice”.

In the last 15 minutes you’ve seen everything from Kill Bill to Carrie to Charlie's Angels, and currently you were watching Barbie be whisked away by Mavis from Hotel Transylvania.

After you made your rounds greeting new members from his family it was time to play a few games.

You and Carmy were absolutely crushing it at the “Guess The Horror Movie” game and ended up winning a new blender and a Keurig but you two were still going.

“Baby- Babe, listen to me, focus, come on! I really want that Target gift card. Ooonne twooo-'' You sing to him trying to give him a clue of the movie and he’s shaking his head.

“And that’s time! The correct answer is Freddie Kreuger, Nightmare on Elm Street.” his cousin Erin answers, dressed as Mavis from Hotel Transylvania and her husband dressed as Johnny wins the gift card instead.

“Sorry baby! I don’t know why I got stuck on Friday The 13th for some reason. Next time, I promise.” Carmy apologises and places a kiss on your temple.

“Next time I want you on my team, daughter because I could’ve used that Sephora gift card that was given away earlier.” Carmen’s mother, who’s dressed as Scarlet Witch says to you.

"Oh boys vs girls vs theys next round. We're about to rack up, mother in law!" You say competitively and you both clap hands in agreement.

At some point the two of you are separated and you are locked into a conversation with nearly everyone he knows and all of Natalie’s friends.

They were trying to figure out everything from how you two met, who’s invited to the wedding, and in the process you were both invited to countless holiday parties.

“He has not been to a family event in what- 3 years. He hung around Michael like a shadow. Never brought a girl home. Hell, I thought that maybe he was gay. Nothing wrong with that but all of a sudden little miss sunshine comes out of nowhere and he’s full of life? And she’s got nonna’s ring?” You walk into the kitchen and overhear one of his cousins say to her sister and she nods while swallowing her drink.

“Maybe if you all weren’t such energy vampires draining the life out of him and realised that everyone handles grief differently then maybe you would’ve realised that all he needed was therapy and a lot of love. Which I give him everyday. I’d suggest you spend less time worrying about us and worry about why your husband has been over there eye-fucking Cruella since she arrived after everyone else. Because we’re good over here.” you advise and grab a Frankenstein sugar cookie off of the table next to them.

One of the cousins apologises for gossiping and her sister scoffs past you to go find her aforementioned husband.

You take a bite out of the cookie and watch as Erin walks over to you shaking her head. She hands you a glass of “Witches Brew” and leans against the table next to you.

“About time she got knocked down a peg. Sophia has always been a bitch since we were kids. I’m talking full on chopping one side of my hair to the top of my ear when we were 9 because she wanted to “play hairdresser”. My mom had to tell everyone that I was trying to look like Rihanna with the asymmetrical bob. My hair still won’t grow right to this day.” you both laugh for a moment and she nudges your shoulder.

“For what it’s worth. I’m glad to see him laugh. I haven’t seen him so genuinely happy since he was following Mike around on some adventure of the day. I don’t think many people realise that he was not only his brother but also his best friend. I know that he still blames himself for the disconnect. For what happened… You reached him when none of us could. And you’re glowing so he must be doing something right. He looks at you like you’re made of all the stars and wonders that the astronauts are constantly seeking. I just hope that he doesn’t fuck it up because I’ve already made a new friend tonight.” She smiles warmly at you and you nod.

Erin continues to talk for a while about her new baby and starting a new business as a wedding planner and telling you that you should definitely give her a call when you’re ready to plan for your wedding.

You were swaying to the music and sipping on the glass of “Witches Brew” when you noticed Carmen’s social battery dying mid sentence.

He was zoning out and you can tell that the conversation he was having with his Aunt Catrina was not one that he wanted to be having.

Carmy was ruffling his hands through his hair and picking at his nail beds and you knew that he was having a bit of sensory overload.

Like clockwork his eyes begin to scan the room and you give him a soft smile.

"Love you" you mouth to him.

You watch his shoulders drop slightly and his jaw unclench as he tries to nod along to whatever she’s saying to him.

“Thank you Erin, I’ll definitely give you a call girl because honestly I have no idea of what colour scheme I want or flowers or any of those things. How’s next Wednesday? Perfect. I’m gonna go get my fiance out of that trap.” You say to her as you excuse yourself from the conversation.

“Perfect- go go go lovebird. I’m going to go see if I can find my “Johnny” around here somewhere.” she says with a laugh and gives you a hug before going about her way.

“Well, I just- just. He- he.” You frown as you hear Carmen begin to stutter, you can tell that he was getting overwhelmed at this point.

You saunter next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, turning to nuzzle his neck and he instantly relaxes into your touch.

“Missed you by my side, handsome.” you whisper against his neck.

“So yeah, Michael called me 5 days before high out of his mind-” Catrina continues and you pretend to stumble into her as you switch on your heels and some of the dark red drink splashes onto her dress , staining her Dolly Parton costume.

“Oh for fucks sake. I am so sorry Catrina. I can’t walk in these damn heels. Honestly, I should’ve just worn sneakers.” you lie and Carmy turns the other way to try and hide his laugh.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Excuse me Carmen. Let me go see if I can find some club soda around here somewhere. Don’t go anywhere.” she says and leaves you two alone finally.

You guide him to a dark corner of the room so that he can catch his breath and relax away from the buzzing of the social scene.

He wraps his arms around you two as you back into a wall and rests against it comfortably.

“Do you want to go home? Just say the word and we can get out of here and into our pjs with the rest of the flan that you made last night. I would be so down.“ You suggest as you sway your hips to the music in the dark corner of the room while Thriller plays in the background.

“I’m okay. Catrina never knew how to read a room and I just wanted you back in my arms.” Carmen wasted no time placing kisses onto your neck and shoulders while his hands trail down your arms while dancing with you.

Albeit, he was a little offbeat but he was making an effort.

You sneakily press against him firmly and you chuckle softly when you hear him let out a little shocked gasp.

You never stop moving your hips to the music as you begin to roll them and feel him harden against your touch while matching your movements.

“Baby you can’t do this right now. I don’t want to go through the rest of this party hard as fuck tonight.” He laughs, laced with a soft groan.

“Who said you had to? I believe that I saw a bathroom down the hall to the right.” You tease and walk away knowing that he was going to be right on your heels.

Carmen knocked three times before you pulled him into the dark bathroom and your lips found his thinner soft pink ones.

He rests his forehead against yours and lets his lips ghost over yours before he pecks your lips again and lifts you onto the black and white marble counter.

He lets his tongue massage yours for a moment with his hands under your chef-style dress and he slides his warm hand into your panties, circling your clit before dipping two fingers into you.

You grab his wrist and try to stifle your moans while Carmy sucks a love bite into the top of your breast.

Carmy currently had the “S” and the “O” of his tattoos in you and was trying to sink the “U” into you while you began to ride his fingers and bite into your plump bottom lip , trying to stay quiet and respectful.

Carmen leans back to give you a look that says “why are you holding it in”.

He wants to make you feel good and he likes to hear you when he makes you feel good he doesn’t really care whomever else hears it too.

You remove his fingers and bring them to his lips and he does not hesitate to lick them clean.

Ever the whore, he makes a show of savouring the taste of you while licking his lips and pulling you closer to him to taste yourself.

“Of all the delicious things I’ve tasted, the best by far will always be you.” He mumbles against your lips.

You move off of the counter and onto your knees, fumbling around in the dark with his buckle before sliding his pants down.

You take a moment to kiss thighs and from base to the flushed head that matches the colour of his strawberry lips while running your hands over his thighs again.

You look up at him as he tries to find a wall to brace himself against while you kitten lick the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft before teasing the slit of him with your tongue. You place soft kisses to the tip to tease him slightly.

“You want it? You want me to take it into my mouth? I need you to use your words.” You tease, still licking from the base to the tip again.

“Yes. Yes, baby. Stop teasing me like this. Come on. Please?”

You take a moment to spit over here knowing that he likes it sloppy. You made sure to look him in his eyes as you slid him past your plush soft two toned lips into your mouth.

Carmen looks down at you smiling for a moment before rubbing your jaw and helping you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Oooh fuck. I’m gonna be honest. If you keep looking at me with them pretty brown eyes I’m not going to last longer than 5.” He admits breathily as you begin to bob slowly, letting your mouth and throat massage over him and you hum really vibrating against him.

“I- I- have to be in you. You’re too fucking good at this and you’re going to make me cum if you don’t- if you don’t come up now.” He says quietly to you and you let out a laugh only further massaging him. You massage his balls softly and he lets out a whine almost, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you off of him.

He once again lifted you onto the counter this time laying you back onto it and pulling you to the edge so that he can have full access to you. Carmen fumbles with your panties for a moment trying to get them out of the way before making sure to slide himself up and down your slit.

Carmy slides against the plush raven colored curls of your mound using this time to return the teasing and coat himself in your honey.

“Carmen.” You warn

“Okay, I know. I know.” He taps it against your clit one last time before pushing into you with a long drawn out moan of your name.

It takes him a moment to bottom out. You were already mewling at the way he tilted your hips and rolled his own into you, stretching you out to the hilt.

Once he set the pace he placed his hands on each side of your face and begin to fuck into you at a rhythm that already made tears prickle the corner of your eyes. He knew your body better than the map of his hometown and he knew just how to stroke you to get you where you needed to be.

His kisses were hot against your skin as he pulled down the top of your dress and bra to your mouth at your nipples. The little soft dark ochre colored buds stood at attention as he sucked skillfully on each.

“You feel like fucking heaven, my love. You’re so warm and wet for me? Is this all for me?” He questions next to your ear before putting his fingers in your mouth, getting them wet so that he can rub at your clit in soft slow precise circles just the way that you like it.

“It’s all for you baby, fuck. I’m getting close. ” You whimper and you wince for a moment at the counter digging into your back from the angle that he had one of your legs on his shoulder and the other one open for him to see all of you.

Carmen doesn’t miss anything when it comes to you and he slows his pace to search your face for the cause of that wince.

He leans down to kiss up your neck and to your lips before looking into your eyes. “What’s wrong mama? Is this hurting your back? You want to switch?” He asks, pulling out slowly and helping you stand up.

Carmen takes a seat on the bathroom counter before sitting you up onto his lap. It was his turn to whine softly as you rocked down onto him.

“All the way to the bottom baby. You can take it. Mhmm, I know you can. Ooh fuck, good girl. You’re so good for me. Taking me all the way down to the base. Good job baby. Fuck, can you feel that?” he whispers against your lips while pulsing inside of you and his brows furrowed together and he tips his head back.

You moan into each other's mouths almost instantaneously when you sink all the way to the base, stretching you out again.

His hands are splayed out on your back and hips and then down under your costume to hold your cheeks and help you bounce at a steady pace.

He resists the urge to spank you and instead opted for gripping your ass like a vice as he begins to twitch inside of you and you open your eyes to look at him.

He smiles sheepishly at you knowing you can feel him practically throbbing inside of you as you tease him at this point pulling almost all the way out and then slamming down onto him again. The lewd sounds echoing throughout the marble bathroom.

“Mhhmm okay, fuck me then. Fuck, get it. Fuck me harder then. Come on. Fuck me harder baby.” He moans and you can only answer him with broken moans of your own.

It felt like he was spearing straight into the spot where you needed him most with every drop and roll of your hips.

You both let out a long sigh when he adds jolts and thrusts of his own in tandem with yours. Carmy’s hands make their way between your legs again to rub at your clit and leans forward to kiss your nose.

“Ah shit, baby , baby, baby, slow down. Baby. I-. Oh fuck, I’m right there. Mama, fuck I’m right there. It’s too fucking good. It’s too good. I’m-” he whines out against your neck and you can feel him finishing inside you as his stomach clenches and he grabs you hard enough to leave bruises on your hips tomorrow morning.

You begin to milk him as you grind your hips slowly as your own orgasm washes over you and the sensation mixed with the way he’s still skillfully playing with you and licking up your neck and the shell of your ear.

“You okay?” Carmy sighs, holding your chin in his hand and looking you over with a small satisfied smile on his face.

You smile against his hand letting out a laugh at your current situation.

“Fucking better than ever, but we’ve got to get out of this bathroom before someone notices that we’ve been gone for like 30 minutes.” you say getting off of him and you both let out a moan at the feeling.

He helps you clean up and adjust your dress before you help him put his hat back on and you leave the bathroom first , laughing to yourself.

You notice some people looking at you and then Carmy walking out behind you and entering the room where the party is still going.

You look around the room and find Natalie dancing next to her mother and Pete and she gives you a wink when her eyes catch yours.

Richie walks over half drunk and with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Well shit cousin, what vampire attacked you on your way to the bathroom?” He jokes and you look over at him with lipstick all over the collar of his coat and bright purpley-red love bites forming on the column of his throat and the side of his neck.

“I don’t know dickhead, maybe the same one that’s on Tiff’s neck over there.” Carmy fires back and Richie smirk drops instantly.

“ Who the fuck invited that ass-wipe? It’s family only.” He says and you both laugh because Richie’s technically not even blood-related but he’s family.

“You coming with us cousin or you’re going to work it out with Tiff? We’re gonna call it a night.” Carmy asks and Nat walks over, giving Carmen the Remy and presents that were lost throughout the night.

“And listen to another round of whatever you two had going on last night? Hell no. I’m going to get this prick out of her face.” Richie says patting Carmy’s shoulder and walking off.

“I’m guessing Remy didn’t make the cut for the little bathroom adventure. Don’t worry, I'll be sending you a bill for the cleaning supplies. Asshole. You two are taking off already?” Natalie says half jokingly, pushing Carmen.

“Yeah, you know how it is. I’m old now. It’s 11. Gotta be up at 5 tomorrow so I’m gonna try and get some sleep. Say goodbye to mom and everyone else for me?” he asks and you give Natalie one last hug.

She whispers a “thank you” in your ear before letting you go.

“Yeah yeah. Get out of here loser... It was nice to actually see you smiling tonight and just being here in general. I’ve missed you, you know.” She says and he nods fully understanding what she meant.

“Family dinner, next week. Our place, Thanksgiving. See you then.” Carmen reminds her and he takes the presents from her and with that you two are on your way home possibly for round two and three and that flan that was mentioned earlier.

4 months away from being married and you still couldn’t be happier with your choice for a life partner.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #the bear #carmy the bear #fanfic for black girls

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blackjack-15 · 4 months

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when the berzattos finally learn to communicate i will throw them a party myself. sugar/natalie is under high stress, i get it, but...damn, kids, calm the eff down

"i'll ask him when he's not dead" i love that carmy's stress/agitation levels actually go down when he's not the most stressed person in the room. it's a brutal coping mechanism, but it's healthier than a panic attack, so i'll take it

richie. what did you do with payroll.

another copenhagen with marcus! once is an incident, twice is a coincidence...

"so you're a psychopath. cool" i love them dearly

the talks between syd and richie (who have a very familial vibe, like a hostile niece + uncle) are nice -- syd sits on carmy's right, richie on his left, and they kind of set the temperature for the episode...meaning if they're getting along (like in ep 2 getting caulk!) that the crap is about to hit the fan

the gunshots scared me, i'll cop to that. crap, meet fan

carmy's "everyone all right?" is great. once again he's painted as the caretaker, rather than the tyrant in charge

richie proving why he's integral to the bear -- carmy's got leadership and experience, sydney's got support and ideas, but richie's got home court advantage -- he knows everyone, or knows someone who knows everyone, and that's how he gets stuff done

i'll admit it, i cheered when carmy said "don't co-sign for a drug addict" to sugar. like it or not, this is her mess, and she probably should have hounded mikey for it, or richie, not carmy who hasn't done anything wrong and in fact has nothing to do with the tax records from 2018

"you're pissing me off" "YOU'RE PISSING ME OFF" and then she calls him a coward for keeping working...this family's got some Stuff huh

whenever carmy's family's involved, we really get to see why he represses and buries everything. talking it out's never helped before, so why would it now? it's messed up but understandable reasoning

#the bear #liveblogging

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ashlingiswriting · 9 months

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Sugar

Natalie Berzatto x Pete, angst and fluff, pre-canon, 1.8k for @drabbles-mc

After Pete’s first Berzatto Christmas, Natalie sleeps badly all night long, getting up to use the bathroom, pulling covers on or off, batting away half-remembered dreams.

Pete's on his phone for hours into the night, which is unusual for him. Usually she gets to stare at him, just something to do while she can't sleep, but tonight he hides with his phone under the covers so the light won't bother her, and as a result, he's become a soft glow and a lump in the bed, hardly a person to look at. At some point the outside world lightens, the birds start singing, and she's so tired she goes into the sleep of the dead and stays there, solid, until the light is pouring in cloud-whitened but strong through the curtains.

Opening her eyes, she sees the ceiling is white too, and perfect. She pulls the covers up over her shoulders a little more and looks over. Pete's gone. That was pretty much what she expected.

She looks back up at the ceiling and waits for it to hit.

It doesn't.

Okay, she thinks calmly. Weird. She's just lost the best boyfriend she ever had in her life, a goofy guy who loves her like it's his job and his hobby and his life's purpose all rolled into one, and she doesn't feel anything about it. She probes at it like the spot where a tooth got knocked out, tongue to tender gum, and decides that maybe she's run out of emotions. She used them all up yesterday and now they're out of stock.

That's good, she thinks. She can work with that.

She sits up. Across from her, hanging on the wall, is a large red and yellow painting of flowers that they bought together at an art festival. She didn't expect him to agree on it—there's a violence to the colors despite the subject matter, and the style is disjointed, borderline abstract—but he goes along to get along, Pete does, and that peace is so peaceful that she's never really wanted to question it. Don't chew your fingernails, Bear, you're not five anymore.

Pete actually peeks through the door, like a kid trying to get away with something. Then he sees her, and sticks his whole head in. He needs a haircut, she notices absently.

"Hey," he says, a little rueful. "Are you awake? Darn."

Pete is the only man left alive who still says darn unironically, and he's wearing a powder blue sweater vest over a collared shirt in his own apartment on a holiday, and Natalie really would have married him.

"Yeah," she says carefully. "I'm awake." If she stays very still, maybe her insides won't get jostled. Maybe they'll stay asleep, and she'll keep on feeling nothing.

"I see." He comes to stand in the doorway, no more comedy to him, and says, a touch nervously, "So, I've been thinking."

"Yeah, it's okay, Pete," she cuts in. She didn't drink much, but she still got a Christmas hangover. "It's okay."

He smiles, brow furrow, all puzzled. "But how—"

"It's okay, okay?" Her heartbeat is starting to get faster, and that odd thing in her stomach might be nausea. "It's okay, Pete. Just. Just go ahead."

She smiles, which is the worst moment to start feeling, and of so course it's the moment the hurt hits her in the chest.

"Okay," he says, a little befuddled still, but relieved. He leaves. There's some sounds from the kitchen. He's packing up.

Five minutes later, he's back, bearing a tray that he sets down on her bedside table very carefully. Then he sits down beside her, pointing, proud.

"So that's fruit juice, morning mix of orange, pineapple, and a little bit of lemon. That's cinnamon sugar toast with loads of butter. I put it in the toaster oven so it would get all, like, caramelized? And that—" Pete pauses. He clearly cannot think of any ingredient or process details that he can elaborate on. "—That's scrambled eggs," he says. He looks to her, hopeful, but all she can do is look at him, then back at the food.

It occurs to her that Pete is quite possibly not breaking up with her after all.

"Oh, are you allergic to pineapples?" he says, apologetic already.

"No," Nat says slowly. He wouldn't make her breakfast to break up with her, right? Because breakfast is kind, but breakfast in bed right before a breakup, that's deranged. "I'm just—" But isn't everyone deranged? "—I'm just wondering, what made you think of cooking today?"

"Well, I read that book Carmy was talking about," he says, and it's the earnestness that gets to her, the excitement. He's got a spiel all ready, he's ready to dive in.

"Yeah?" she says, a new smile breaking across her face.

“Yeah," he says, even more excited than before, smiling now because she's smiling, and that's it. She launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, holds tight. He holds her like he knows what he's doing, all big enveloping warmth, right hand rubbing her back. He doesn't question it.

“How’d you get it so fast?” she says, half-into his neck.

“Oh, I downloaded the Libby app ages ago. You know, it's like the best of both worlds. You get to support the library, but at the same time it's on your phone, so you don't have to worry about losing a physical copy, and—"

Nat's laughing now, so Pete turns his head a little and kisses her. Aims for her forehead, misses, gets all hair. Kisses her again anyways.

"You okay?" he says.

"Oh, I'm just all weird after last night," she says, peeling herself away a little, wiping her hair and tears out of her eyes in one quick movement. "So what did the book say?"

She knows, from the way he pulls one of the blankets up and around her, that he's caught the tears. But he just puts his arms around her little cocoon and keeps going.

"It's really interesting, actually. A little dense, but not academic. Kind of what you'd expect from Carmy?" He thinks on that for a second, then keeps going. "I couldn't stop thinking about this one part, which was less about cooking and more like this essay on personal history, and how sometimes, if there's something you really can't escape, like a thought or a memory or a person or a place, instead of trying to run away from it, you're better off trying to change the context. And there was a bunch of psychology stuff in there, but I'm not sure I really got all of that. Basically, though, it's about changing associations. Or adding associations."

His left arm still loosely draped around her, he reaches out, all six foot one inches of him straining, and manages to pick up the plate with the buttered cinnamon sugar toast on it. He holds it right under her nose, and she inhales. Her mouth waters.

"So," he says. "Sugar."

Nat gets it immediately.

"Sugar," she says, poking one of her hands out of her blanket cocoon to retrieve a slice.

"Sugar," he repeats, and then he sort of arranges himself against the headboard to be that much more convenient a human recliner, takes his own toast, and crunches away. "I'll run laundry today," he says, as if to pre-empt any comments about crumbs, though she wasn't gonna make them.

The toast is crunchy and decadent, with a surprising little edge of salt mixed in with all the sweetness, and Nat melts into his chest. It's a good silence, a long one, long enough to let all the residual doubts drain away.

Shortly after all the toast is gone, Pete's about to go for the eggs, and she intervenes. She kisses him.

The eggs end up going cold. The sweater vest ends up on the floor.

Some time later, right back where they were, though they're naked this time and sharing the blanket. Nat's staring at the painting again.

"We should get rid of that, right?" she says. "We should get something else. I don't know what I was thinking. It's not very you."

"No, I love it."

She looks up at him. He really is so funny, her man. "No, you don't."

"No, but I love the way you love it. Of all the paintings at the fair, this is the one that you stood and stared at the most. And I remember, you didn't even want to talk to the artist cause you wanted to stare at it for longer. You're so smart," he says, like that's not a non sequitur.

She can't help herself. "But you don't love it."

Pete looks from the painted poppies to Nat.

"I love you," he says. "That's, like, the same thing, right? Kind of like the transitive property in geometry."

Her forehead furrows for a second, and she just keeps looking at him. After a while, she finally says, a little slowly, like she's made a discovery, "My brothers think you're stupid."

"Yeah," he says, with the placid acceptance provided to him as a proprietor of two diplomas, a Chicago Stock Exchange salary, and childhood principally featuring a golden retriever named Noodles.

"Yeah," says Nat. "They're stupid."

Pete only laughs. "Oh, Sugar. They're your brothers."

She tilts her head to the side.

"How was that?"

"Sugar? That was..." Natalie thinks on it, then nods. "Pretty good."

"Didn't fix it," he acknowledges.

"But it was pretty good." She settles back into the crook of his arm and lets the twin comedowns from sugar and sex wash over her, warm and sleepy. She closes her eyes. Another silence, this one even better than the last, absolutely content.

The punchline comes months later, when they're both waiting in the hospital to for the chance to meet Richie's little girl. She was supposed to arrive hours ago. The labor's gone badly, Nat's nerves are shot, Mikey's nowhere to be found, and Richie's pacing the hall clutching an un-smoked cigar like it's a weapon. Donna arrives.

Pete says, going loud so she can hear him over the battling sounds of her mother and the nurse, "Now we just need to figure out how to put an Are You Okay in the toaster oven."

Nat laughs so hard that her mother actually stops arguing with the nurse to turn and look at her, but before she can say anything, Mikey comes sweeping in to say it for her: "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Natalie says. "Nothing." She elbows Pete, who's already spotted it too: Richie making a beeline for the nurse with an unhinged glint in his eye. Pete heaves himself to his feet and prepares to try for an interception, while she does hers without even standing up, throws her arm around Mikey and makes him bend down for his hug.

"Always something going on with you, huh, Sugar," he says. He smells awful, but he hugs just as well as Pete does, and she kisses his bearded cheek.

"Oh yeah," she says, with the placid acceptance provided to her as the proprietor of health insurance, half an apartment, and an engagement ring hanging on a chain around her neck, keeping secret till such a time as it will not upstage Tiff's big day. "That's me."

#fanfiction #the bear fx #natalie berzatto #natalie berzatto x pete #the bear fanfiction #mine

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little-miss-moonstone · 4 months

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The Red Thread (Carmy x OC)

ch. one | Carmen Berzatto x fem!oc

warnings for series: anxiety, depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of drug use and alcoholism, violence, grief, toxic behavior, just complete and utter chaos — each chapter will have specific warnings but i just wanted to give an over-all idea of the themes.

this originally was going to be a reader insert story, but the more i began playing around with ideas, she became her own person and she is so special to me that i had to give her a name, eye color, hair color and other little quirks that make her unique. so i really hope you enjoy getting to know her, though I’m sure you will hate her at times.

Rori Cavani had known the Berzatto’s her entire life, well almost, she couldn’t remember before she didn’t. Sugar and Mikey were like her own brother and sister, but being the same age as Carmy they grew up being each other’s best, and only, friend. That was until graduation came and her and Carmy were off tackling their own career paths, which couldn’t have been more different. He became a chef and she went to college and became an author and they both spent several years traveling around making names for themselves and as the years passed they slowly fell out of touch. A few months after Mikey’s unexpected passing Natalie called Rori, practically begging her to come home, wanting nothing more than to have her loved ones close. Rori was hesitant, but she had been craving the comfort Chicago gave her and with Natalie confirming Carmy was still in New York, she figured why not?

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know if he’ll ever come home, but i’m so glad you are,” Sugar smiled, the phone pressed to her ear as she watched her younger brother and Richie walk up her driveway. Little did she know that lie would open Pandora’s box.

a/n: i’m going to try to have chapter one out at some point this weekend:) please feel free to give me feedback on any and all chapters.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear

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dhampiravidi · 10 months

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hot take: I relate to Carmy Berzatto in S2 of The Bear

putting this under a read more bc of the topic (mentioned in tags):

so The Bear wasn't my favorite in S1, but S2 is very well-written, especially when it comes to its portrayal of mental illness(es). I want to start by saying that ofc not everyone experiences the same mental illness the same way. But I really relate to Carmy, so much that it hurts. I realized that I related to him when it's the focus group scene--he says something akin to, "I try to act like there won't be another shoe to drop, but there always is." Then, there's the whole X-Mas episode. And finally, the day the restaurant opens.

I have generalized anxiety, clinical depression & mild C-PTSD. Here's how I viewed the aforementioned scenes:

Focus Group: let me start by saying I've never been to group therapy (& I don't think I will; I just prefer 1-on-1). Still, I talk to myself a lot, which allows me to confront most of my inner feelings/thoughts. Anyway, it was a sad thing to realize that, over the years, I, too, have stopped believing that I have time to enjoy good moments...because there's always some new shit, some new problem to deal with.

X-Mas: if I had to be in a real-life situation similar to that episode, I'd definitely have an anxiety issue (I say "issue" to differentiate from a panic/anxiety attack). I'm a perfectionist who cares about pleasing people, even if I dislike said people. So to see Carmy in such a stressful place where nowhere is quiet enough to relax...that was hard. I desperately wanted the mom to get some mental help while someone else ordered in. I wanted Bob Odenkirk/Uncle Lee to shut up because to me, Jon Bernthal/Michael seemed to be both depressed and developing anger issues. I wanted to tell Abby Elliot/Natalie that she doesn't need to worry about her mom. & then the whole time I'm hoping that Carmy doesn't have some kind of a breakdown or anxiety issue, because then everyone will fuss over him to the point of starting a fight.

Opening Day: I knew the moment Claire was introduced that she was going to be the third point in a Claire-Carmy-Syd love triangle, one where Carmy ultimately has to choose between taking time off to cultivate his own happiness (something he doesn't do) & making sure that the restaurant is a success. I was glad that, overall, the opening night was awesome. But 1) I was scared for Carmy because apparently you can die within a couple of hours in a walk-in if you aren't careful, and 2) they had Claire be the one to hear his self-destructive rant. I'm not mad at him for ranting. He's a mentally ill/depressed person who works in an unforgiving industry. Despite the customers' happiness, he didn't have a great night. His brother, who was also in the food business, is dead (which I think adds onto Carmy's desire to be successful). Keep all that in mind. Carmy gave Claire the wrong number because he (in my opinion) didn't think he could juggle his commitment to the restaurant with a romantic commitment...& he doesn't think he deserves to be loved/happy (which he admitted in the fridge). If he doesn't end up with Syd by the end of S2, I think the writers will let him be with Claire because nothing he said was actually blaming her for anything. Depressed people love blaming ourselves.

Anyway, kudos to the writers of the show & to Jeremy Allen White.

#tw: mental illness #mental illness tw #tw: mental health #mental health tw #admin #the bear season 2 #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #hot take

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victoriams · 9 months

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ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴍᴀꜱᴋꜱ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏɴᴇ.

lucy boynton . cis woman . she/her ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s LIVINIA CRANE , the TWENTY-EIGHT year old GAMEMAKER from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol around HER WHOLE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so POISED & OSTENTATIOUS . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

STATISTICS

FULL NAME livinia diana crane

NICKNAMES liv, livi

DATE OF BIRTH may 26, 66th year

AGE twenty-eight

DISTRICT capitol

ROLE gamemaker

GENDER cis woman

ORIENTATION bisexual biromantic

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS intelligent, poised, strategic

NEGATIVE TRAITS selfish, ostentatious, callous

MBTI intj-a – the architect

ENNEAGRAM type 1 – the reformer

MORAL ALIGNMENT lawful neutral

DEADLY SIN pride

HEAVENLY VIRTUE diligence

ZODIAC gemini

CHARACTER PARALLELS shiv roy, succession / claire, fleabag / natalie berzatto, the bear / madelyn stillwell, the boys / michaela pratt, how to get away with murder / blair waldorf, gossip girl / abigail armstrong, dance academy

RELATIONSHIPS

AUGUSTUS CRANE, SENIOR father

RHEA CRANE mother, deceased

AURELIUS CRANE older half-brother

AUGGIE CRANE older sister

MAXIM CRANE twin brother

PRIAM PLINTH husband

BIOGRAPHY

You do not come into this world alone.

Well, this isn't entirely true – you exist in the world for exactly twenty five minutes and thirty-nine seconds before your brother, your twin, your other half – Maxim, arrives, kicking and screaming and demanding your parents' attention. Unfortunately for both of you, two older siblings wait outside of your mother's delivery room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of their new baby brother and sister. They are the heir, Aurelius; and the spare, Auggie. What does that make you and Maxim? Little more than decorative ornaments, bodies to fill up space in the family portraits. Two extra names at the end of birthday cads. Two extra plates at dinner.

There are exactly three things all Crane children have in common – blonde hair, delicate features, and that you are trained to thrive on attention. You all learn to find it in different ways. Aurelius finds it wherever he goes – your father's firstborn, the only child with the genes of his beloved – he seems to do nothing and have everything. He even wins your mother's favour. He is strong, powerful, and disciplined. Your father says he will inherit the earth, one day. Auggie fluctuates between finding attention by being the perfect foot soldier, and by being a wrecking ball. Your father punishes this. When Auggie exists within the mould she has been assigned, your father promises great things. Promises her the kingdom, if Aurelius cannot take it. A step out of line, and she is charged with treason. Your father watches with an eagle eye – he dares her to defy him. She cannot get away with the things Aurelius does by being the golden child, nor what you do by being forgotten. You think it is the scraps of attention, of hope, that keep her coming back.

For you and Maxim, attention is much harder to come by. You're not sure whether your parents had even wanted any more children. They had their heir, their spare – and sometimes you think that Maxim and you had been unfortunate byproducts of an ill-fated tryst. You are never particularly close with either of your parents. Maybe they had loved each other, once, but by the time you are old enough to recognise it, any affection is long gone. You don't know why the wedge exists between them – maybe your mother could never live up to the woman she'd replaced. Or maybe your father resents the way she bleeds his resources dry. But, apparently, you remind him of her. Unlike Maxim and Auggie, you possess your mother's features. Her pointed nose, her pale face. Even her demeanour, to a certain extent. Your father resents you for this, and he fails to see you beyond a pale, and far less useful, imitation of the woman he'd married.

Your father may not be your father's daughter, but you are certainly your mother's. She tends to you like her own personal garden, sewing poisonous seeds that will forever be rooted in the back of your mind. She can never decide whether she loves or hates you; whether she wants to use you to correct her own mistakes, or send you down the same treacherous path out of spite. You had been a sweet child, once. You had loved dancing and music. You were afraid of the dark and monsters under your bed. You don't remember that girl now. Your mother said that softness wouldn't serve you in the long run, and so she eradicated it. She teaches you to look in the mirror and despise what you see – to strive for better. To starve and groom yourself until you can no longer be criticised. To hide your teeth behind a smile, to never display weakness. She tells you that you have started life at a disadvantage – that the only way you will ever make it in this world is through underhanded tricks and strategic alliances – nobody will ever give you anything for free.

You hunger for perfection. You hunger for her approval. You hunger for your father's love. You will always be hungry.

We would, of course, be remiss to talk about your childhood without mentioning your twin. Maxim exists by your side as a shadow. Save for your shared birthday and upbringing, you have little else in common. And yet, he is the person you feel closest to in the world. He is the only person who has ever existed on equal ground – looked at you, not as a competitor, or an asset, or a liability, but as a friend. He is also the only one who can see past the facade build. You had quickly learned that scrutiny hurts less when your exterior is made of stone. Easier to be criticised when you know the person they critique is a fabrication – made up, not you. Maxim sees through it, and, in turn, you see through his loud, blustering, careless charade. Maybe it really is a twin thing, or maybe you just both know how to craft yourselves into something you aren't. You both know how to identify the gaps in a structure and squeeze yourself into them. You become ice – cold, calculated, indifferent. Maxim becomes fire – warm, raucous, passionate.

You are married when you are twenty. It hadn't been your idea, but you go along with it nonetheless. At the time, you are your mother's only eligible daughter, and she seeks to secure your family's social and financial status with a neat little union. You won't get anywhere without a husband on your arm, Livinia. At the time, her words had felt like gospel. At the time, you had been a sickly, wretched thing – living off scraps of love and affection and little else. Begging simply to be seen, to fill the void inside of you. At the time, you think that maybe marriage will fix you. That it will satisfy the relentless hunger that has existed within you since you were a girl. Your mother seems to think that it will, anyway. Priam is a decent enough candidate – the second born son from a well-off family. He is a few years your senior, chivalrous and kind. He takes a position at your family's company along with your hand.

You are married, and yet you are still hungry. Garden parties and book clubs and gala dinners bore you. The idea of children nauseates you. You watch Priam go off to work each day and realise you have nothing to keep yourself occupied, you are alone in a big, beautiful, empty, dreadful house. Your parents have pushed you from one cage and into another – but you come to realise that they have forgotten to lock the door. Outside of their house, you feel more free than you ever have in your life. You may not have chosen Priam, and you are not sure if you will ever love him as you are supposed to, but he cares for you. He supports you. It is not something you have experienced before. Maybe you are selfish, but you cling to it, you consume it, like a ravenous creature. You cling not to your husband, or the vows you had made, but the sanctuary he provides, the way his doting makes you feel. You become more emboldened – dressing in different clothes, speaking your own mind. You enjoy things – not for others, but for yourself. And yet, freedom and affection do not satisfy your hunger.

You had never really given much thought to what the future held in store for you – part of you, buried and subdued, had always longed for greatness. That part of you had wanted the throne, but the more rational part of your mind knows it was never going to be yours. Your father and your siblings have made this abundantly clear. But, without the constant, overwhelming pressure to be the perfect daughter, you realise you want something. You have wasted your life hungering for attention, for respect, for love – but now you turn your appetite towards something more substantial – glory.

You take inspiration from your late uncle, and manage to secure yourself a role as an apprentice gamemaker. It is the perfect fit for somebody like you – so clinical, calculating, methodical. Your parents do not approve of the choice – your mother, because it does not follow the plan she had made for you; your father, because it is the job that had gotten his brother killed, that had cast a stain on your family's name for almost two decades. Where you once would have shrivelled, you hold firm. You rise through the ranks quickly – you become known not for your name, or your looks, or your husband, but for your skill, your intelligence, your wit. You think maybe this will be enough to satisfy the hunger, but it's not.

You taste greatness, and you want more, more, more. Come to think of it, maybe your siblings have four things in common. It is not in your natures to be satisfied.

#mj.intro #livinia – 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝒹𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 #mhm new and (not) improved babey

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