#mikey berzatto fanfiction

[chellestrash]

Birthday Girl

Mikey Berzatto x Female Reader 

Summary: You show up at The Beef on your birthday, a bit earlier than Mikey was expecting you. But that's alright, you'll still get your birthday gift, dont you worry.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, teasing, praises, pet names

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Hi hellooo! So, this is a late birthday gift for my sweet @chelseasdagger because I know how hard she fell for Mikey, especially with how he looks in season 2? The beard?! I mean we all love it right? Thank you @suitsofwo3 for proofreading this mess and I hope those of you who choose to read it will enjoy it. This is my first time writing for Mikey so I hope I did him justice but if I didn't...dont tell me, thank you. 

@chelseasdagger Pea I hope you’ll like this, this is all written with you in mind, and I know we talked about a lot of different ideas for birthday fics over the year and this is I guess a bit different but I hope its still okay. I love you, happy birthday!

You straighten up the dress one last time and clear your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that's about to ensue the moment you step through the door of the Berzatto restaurant. You loved The Beef, of course you did. You enjoyed most of the time you chose to spend helping around the sandwich shop, but you also knew how overwhelming it could get.

Pushing the designated staff door on the back of the building, you step inside.

“CORNER!”

You jump at the sound and smile at Richie, waving your hand as he sets down the tray of dirty dishes and makes his way over to you the moment he notices your presence.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He starts, his arms spread open and a big, welcoming smile on his face as he looks you up and down quickly, nodding his head in approval. You can't help but smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks Richie! I look okay?” You ask, after he hugs you tightly, quickly getting rid of the jacket to fully present your outfit.

“Well, I'd say, fucking great actually, not okay. Okay is not…” He steps back, gesturing over your body, and you shake your head slightly amused, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“Okay is not…doesn’t do it justice, actually.”

You let out a chuckle, rolling your eyes at the compliment.

“What doesn’t do what justice?" Marcus pops his head in from around the corner, and you watch how his face lights up the second his eyes are on yours.

“Oh shit, look who it is!”

“I said that already.” Ritchie points out, and both you and Marcus breathe out a soft laugh.

“Good to see you.”

You step further into the restaurant, meeting him halfway, before he pulls you into a big hug. Brushing his hand over your back, he holds you there for a little longer before finally letting go.

“Happy birthday, that was a special birthday hug.” He announces, and you nod with an impressed expression.

“Yeah?”

Marcus agrees, doing his best to look completely serious before you ask.

“What makes it special?"

Your eyebrows pull together as you watch him attempt to come up with some serious explanation before he shakes his head.

“Can't tell you.”

“And why is that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You blink, not knowing what answer you were expecting, but it obviously wasn’t anything along those lines. He winks, a big smile on his face as you both step into the kitchen now and you’re left with no other choice than to just accept the explanation.

You walk past the stoves, careful not to disturb the somehow chaotic but still functional ecosystem the Berzatto brothers managed to create within the restaurant.

“Behind.” You rest your hand on Tina's shoulder, and she turns around quickly, her whole face lighting up, her arms almost immediately wrapping around you as she pulls you into a hug.

“Ayyy my Love, happy birthday!” She cups your face, kissing your cheek before letting go.

“Thank you, Tina, thank you.” You hug her back, and she nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“How are you, how's the birthday girl, huh?” She asks, glancing over your outfit, clearly impressed.

No one here has ever really seen you dressing up like this. Today was…a bit of a special occasion.

"Weird. Tina, Richie, gave me a compliment. Richie! You believe that?"

“Ey!”

You hear the man's voice from the other side of the kitchen, and both you and Tina turn in the direction of the sound.

“I'm being nice!”

“I know!” You shout back, ducking under Ebra's arm when he walks past you. Smiling from eye to eye once he notices you, the man stops for a moment.

“Beautiful.”

“This?”

He nods, showing you he means the dress and the way you look in it.

“Beautiful.”

You nod with a smile, thanking him for the compliment, before he quickly wishes you a happy birthday as well.

Walking around the restaurant, you quickly greet everyone working today. Passing by Sugar and Syd you stop to talk to them for a little bit and they both give you their best wishes and compliments on your outfit as well. Stepping away after a moment, you look around the place with an intention of eventually finding your boyfriend out there but bumping into the rest of the crew you’re unable to complete your mission.

Fak, in a typical Fak fashion, stands in front of you with his mouth wide open the second he sees you, clearly impressed by your chosen look for this special evening.

“Oh my god, you look so pretty!”

You feel your cheeks heating up, not even trying to hide the way the compliments got to you any longer.

“You think so?”

Twirling slightly, you show off the way the dress moves with your body, the silky, soft fabric contrasting with the harsh, industrial interior of the restaurant kitchen. You feel out of place but at the same time, somehow they all make you feel like you’ve never fit in better anywhere else.

“Yeah, you look like a freaking princess!” He continues, walking around you in a circle before turning to face the rest of the crew. “You guys seen this?”

They all nod, smiling and glancing in your direction, and you feel so thankful for all of them in that moment.

“Seen what?” You hear the familiar voice behind you and quickly turn around to face Carmy. Stepping into the restaurant, most likely after a smoke break, he sees you for the first time that day.

“Hey!” You smile.

“Heyyy, yo…you look great, holy shit!”

Pushing his hand through the mess of blond curls, he scratches the top of his head, quickly glancing up and down your body before shaking his head softly.

“Sorry, happy birthday.”

You both smile as he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Thank you bear.” You mumble quietly, your hand rubbing up and down his back a couple of times before letting go.

“Course! You need anything?" Carmy asks after you two step away from each other.

“Mikey.”

“Oh right, yeah. Office.” He points in the direction of the small room right by the “employees area” and you nod, thankful for the help.

“Thanks.”

You turn back and wave at the few people still looking at you before crossing the hall in a couple of quick steps.

You push the door open and step inside the small, mostly dark room. It's messy, very busy and there's hardly any rhyme or reason to the way the space is ‘organized.’ It screams ‘Mikey’.

You watch the older Berzatto brother while he talks on the phone for another moment, before turning to face you at the sound of the door closing behind you. You wave, not saying anything as you do not wish to interrupt any, possibly, important business. A quiet laugh still slips past your lips, when you watch his eyes open wide at the sight of you.

You gesture over the dress, pushing your hip out to the side before posing. Mikey sinks his teeth into his lower lip, nodding his head to the quiet words on the phone as if the person could somehow see him.

“Hey, I'm gonna have to call you back, man.” He finally speaks up, and you glare at him with a confused expression.

“What? Yeah, emergency.” He lies before hanging up and quickly throwing his phone onto the desk.

“Holy…shit.”

The way his eyes shine when he looks at you makes you feel like your insides are doing jumping jacks. You try your best to remain looking completely unphased but the way his eyes skim over the dress, the way his expression softens and his body slumps slightly, simply just from seeing you there, makes your knees weak.

“Holly Fucking SHIT!” He looks away but quickly turns back to you, squinting his eyes with his head tilted to the side, he attempts to take in the whole picture one more time.

“You like it? Looks good?” You ask, your cheeks aching from the constant smiling, as you feel, possibly, the best you’ve felt all day.

“Good?!” Mikey almost shouts, offended that you'd even try to use such an underwhelming word to describe yourself.

“You fucking-” He starts, taking a step in your direction before you push your leg out, the dress lifting up your leg slight, and he lets out a whine and a grunt before kneeling on the floor right in front of you.

“Oh Mikey come-” You try to stop him, but he doesn't move.

“Holy fuck baby what-you're tryna kill me here i-” He asks, hands already reaching up, longing for the feel of your body against his palms.

You feel yourself getting warmer, the excitement making your heart pound harder in your chest when you glance down to see your boyfriend, Mikey Berzatto, on his knees for you.

“Can I touch you, babygirl? Hmm?” He asks, and you nod, somehow managing to keep your cool and not completely lose it over the way he acts when it comes to you.

“Oh fuck, yeah? Can I touch you here?” His rummbly voice rings out in your head when you feel his fingers brushing the sides of your hips over the fabric of the dress.

“That okay?”

You nod quickly, quicker than you'd like, quicker than a completely composed and not freaking out at the moment person would do.

He hums quietly, tracing over your body for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. Tilting his head up, he stares at you in silence for a couple seconds before speaking again.

“Don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t think you can do what Mikey bear?” You ask, pushing your hand through the thick dark hair, and you watch him hum quietly after he leans into your touch.

“Don’t think I can wait…till after dinner.”

You pause, pulling your hand away, and fight back the smile when he looks up at you, completely serious.

“Mikey.” You start, but he continues.

“You look too fucking good baby, how the fuck do you expect me to keep it together for another.-" He glances back at the small, long broken clock on the wall of the small office before turning his face back to you. “Couple hours."

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, and he wraps his arms around the top of your legs, right under your ass. Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your lower stomach, following the action up with a theatrical sigh.

“It's too good.”

“I mean you told me it's a fancy dinner Mikey, you shot yourself in the foot.” You talk back, and he thinks it over for a moment, ultimately deciding that you're probably right.

“Yeah well…" He mumbles under his breath, pushing his face against your body again, he leaves a kiss right between your legs through the soft fabric of the dress.

“Fuck baby.”

You feel his hands again, feel how they slowly travel lower and lower down your body, his fingers tug at the hem on the bottom of the dress before you feel his touch on your skin. Brushing his fingers up and down your skin, Mikey keeps his head up, watching your face for ques and indications, a confirmation that this isn't something only he wanted.

You agree, encouraging him with a small nod and a quiet hum, the gentle feeling of his fingertips on your skin makes your body relax, and you take a deep breath in, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning back on the door.

The sensation of the soft silky fabric grazing over your skin as Mikey pulls it higher up your body makes your hips inch forward. Pulling the dress the few last inches up, he stops suddenly.

“Shit.” He whispers, his warm breath glides over your skin, and you glance down to check on him.

“Hey baby? Remind me please…is it your birthday or mine?”

The question caches you off guard, and you bunch up the dress, looking down at him slightly confused.

His eyes are fixed on the cute pair of panties you chose to wear, they were new, he hadn't seen them yet, it was going to be a surprise…later.

He pulls the fabric a couple inches away from your body before suddenly letting go, the waistband snaps back in place, and he looks up at you with a sly smirk.

“Lucky me, huh?” He teases, and you feel your legs pushing together, the way he was able to turn this whole thing around, to get you wet in a matter of seconds was basically like a special skill of his.

Mikey ducks his head under the fabric of your dress and after a moment you feel his warm kisses press against the skin right above the waistband of your underwear.

A gasp slips past your lips when his fingers hook over the hem, and you reach to lock the door behind you.

Both of you knowing what's about to happen.

"Mikey.” Your attempt is unsuccessful, and he chuckles, seeing your efforts after popping his head from under the dress.

“Yeah no that doesn't—it's busted baby, can't do shit about it now, you'll have to be quiet. Think you can do that?”

You nod, eagerly waiting to feel him on you.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” He smirks, holding you a little tighter before he ducks his head under the fabric again.

You feel his lips on your skin again, the kisses travel from your lower tummy, over your panties and down to your thighs. The familiar warmth between your legs feels almost burning hot when you feel his fingers brush over the fabric in the most sensitive spot.

He has your full attention, all your senses focus on him to the point where your brain tunes out your surroundings. The small room feels darker now, somehow more secluded, the background

noise of the busy restaurant disappearing almost completely as you let your body relax into your boyfriend’s touch.

Mikey slowly gets rid of the cute pair of panties, pulling the fabric down your legs, following with a trail of small kisses before finally letting go, allowing them to fall to your ankles.

A quiet moan slips past your lips when he pushes your legs open slightly, his face so close to your core now, his warm breath feeling almost electric on your skin.

Mikey works around you for a moment, his tongue following the path his lips create with the kisses over your pussy, on your highs and right under your tummy. You feel his fingers digging deeper into your thighs and ass before he finally pulls you even closer. And with a satisfied hum, he pushes his tongue against you.

You whine quietly, and he breathes out a little laugh, continuing to work you over and over again while you pull the skirt up and off of his head, so you can bury your fingers in his hair again. Your hips buck forward, working as a cue for him to keep going. Your head falls back, and you bite your lip in order to somehow attempt to keep quiet like he instructed you. The sweet combination of licks, kisses and Mikey sucking your clit into his mouth making it almost impossibly difficult, and some part of you keeps telling you Michael Berzatto was fully aware of what he was doing.

“Mmmm-mikey-“ You start. Feeling your body slowly giving into the pleasure, despite you trying to last longer.

“Mmmhh” He hums gently against you, the rumbly sensation causing another moan to slip past your lips. Mikey knew what he was doing, he knew you, he knew your body and most importantly, he knew what you liked, he knew how to make you feel good. You’ve explained it to him before, and he proved to be a great listener.

With your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking against it repeatedly, Mikey looks up at you, watching the expressions on your face change, your body move as you start to feel yourself getting closer.

Your breathing shallows and you can feel your heart pounding faster now that he’s gotten you to this point.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping his dark hair tighter when you feel your body twitch at the feeling.

“Yeah?” Mikey pulls away finally, his beard wet from you, shining in the dim light of the desk lamp, the only source of light in the small room at this moment. His fingers fill in for his mouth as he continues to work over your center as he talks.

“Yeah? You want it, baby?”

You nod, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip when he pushes his palm harder against you. Rocking your hips back and forth you add onto the feeling and when the heel of his palm hits your clit you whine out, louder than you would’ve liked.

“Shit, you sound so pretty baby, you know that.” He praises, not trying to tease you in any way anymore, clearly wanting this as much as you do. Your little sounds of pleasure making his jeans feel so incredibly tight, he could swear he feels himself getting lightheaded.

“You wanna feel me, baby?” He asks, slipping one finger inside you, but you both already know the answer.

Nodding energetically, you feel yourself clenched around his two fingers.

“Oh fuck, you're so perfect.” He mumbles, his voice almost breaking when he realizes if you keep this up, he most likely won't last much longer.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you need.”

Unable to fight your own body, you lower yourself on his fingers, the wet sound filling the room for a second before you somehow manage to speak.

“I want to feel your-, Mikey, I need-”

The whine bounces around inside his head when he slips his two fingers out of you. He stands up quickly, his hand on the side of your face as he tilts your chin up and his lips press against yours.

Led by him, you stumble towards the desk, not wanting to break the kiss, you lick over his lips, tasting yourself on him for a second before he spins you around.

“This what you want? Hm?” He asks, already bunching up the fabric of the dress, and you buck your ass into the bulge in his jeans as a response.

“Fuck.” He grunts, gripping onto the edge of the desk to hold himself back for a second. “Fuck, that’s my girl, so fucking perfect.”

The repeated praise makes you feel lightheaded, you can barely hear him unbuckle the belt and pull the jeans down before pulling himself out of his boxers.

You look over your shoulder watching him work over his length a couple of times and reach back to do it for him. He grabs your hand, moving it back to the desk before holding both of your wrists above your head while you bend over the wooden counter in front of him.

“No, baby, today is about you. Got it?”

You nod, feeling the tip of his cock tease your entrance.

“Good girl, hold tight.”

You do, you grip the edge of the desk, digging your nails into the wood just as hard as Mikey's fingers dig into your thighs.

The table moves with the first thrust, and you feel your mouth falling open when you feel your body push forward on the wooden counter.

“Oh fuck” You whimper and feel his hand immediately on yours.

“I'm here, I'm here baby, good job.” He praises again, and you grip his hand tighter, feeling his hips begging to rock back and forth, his cock moving inside you. The pace is steady but slow for the first moment, and it doesn't take you long to adjust yourself properly to his size. He speeds up only after your little whines, when he knows it's your way of asking for more.

“That’s it baby.”

He continues to guide you, holding onto your hand, pushing inside you deeper and faster now. Your eyes begin to water and your legs push together, your body's way of telling you it's almost time. You hum, attempting to let your boyfriend know, and he reassures you.

“I know, I know, I can feel it.”

He speeds up the pace one last time, grabbing onto your hips tighter in order to help you move back and forth on his cock, just to make the feeling a bit more intense.

Your lips part and you pant loudly, hearing the pounding of your heart in your head and feeling it against the wooded desk under your chest.

Unable to fight back the sounds anymore, you whine and moan loud enough for him to hear them over his own grunts. Feeling your body tensing up, you cry out his name and when he slips his free hand between your bodies to touch you, your body tenses up one more time before relaxing completely after you come undone around him.

He makes sure you ride out the orgasm, that, or he just can't really stop himself at this point, trying to follow closely after you. With a loud grunt and a couple of swear words, he pushes deep one more time before coming inside you. The thick, warm liquid fills you up just how you like it, and you push your hips back one more time when he attempts to pull himself out.

“Woah, easy.” He laughs, his hand on your ass now as he holds you in place before taking a step back. You feel the cum leak out, dripping down your leg for a moment before he finally speaks again.

“I can't fucking look at that, or we'll have to go again.”

You laugh, still attempting to catch your breath before pushing yourself off the desk. Mikey steps closer, offering you his arm to hold onto as you try to stand up straight, while he lets the fabric of the dress fall back into place. His own clothes already pulled back up, looking somewhat presentable.

“What if…,” You start watching him grab some paper towels from a shelf. “What if I wouldn’t mind going again?” You ask and he snorts quietly, gently pulling your clothes back up before wiping most of the thick white liquid off of the sides of your thighs.

“I know you wouldn't sweetheart.” He starts, glancing up at you with the most genuine smile, the love and admiration in his eyes almost making you blush like he didn’t just fuck you over his office desk.

Placing a kiss right between your legs, he quickly stands back up.

“But-” He continues, holding your hand up to help you step out of the panties still stuck around your ankles.

“We have a reservation."

He reminds you of the actual plans for today before bending over to grab the panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.

“We can't be late for that, huh?”

You shake your head, knowing he’s right.

“Yeah, c'mere.” He sits down on the desk chair, pulling you into his lap before wrapping his arms around you.

You sigh loudly, and he lets you rest your head against his chest. Pressing three gentle kisses right at the top, he holds you even tighter. His thumb bushing over your skin, his breathing helping your own slow down.

“You felt good?” He asks quietly and you nod with a smile.

“You know, I always do.”

“Well…I gotta make sure you know? I mean, if there's room for improvement-“

You laugh, looking up at him and cupping his face with your hand.

“I mean I gotta know baby! It’s the law, you have to tell me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they just made it a law this morning.”

“Oh, oh well, that’s wonderful to know.”

“Mhm.”

You cuddle up into him some more, letting your eyes close for a second.

“Yo Mikey, what the fuck are you doing, we need you in the kitchen.”

Carmy.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!” Mikey shouts back, covering your ears before he does so, just to try to not disturb you as much. You both laugh at his choice of words before he leans down for one last kiss.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.” He whispers, his lips brushing over you when you nod softly. Your arms now wrapped around his neck.

"I ain't done with you yet."

You smile softly at the promise.

“Thank you, Bear.”

He winks, walking over to the door.

"Rest up, baby. I love you."

#the bear #the bear fanfiction #mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto x reader #jon berntha #carmy #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #the bear season 2

[drabbles-mc]

Denim

Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical angst

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: grass green

Word Count: 500

A/N: the way it pained me to trim this down to 500 words but we did it! just thinking about carmy and his array of jeans

Carmy sat on the edge of his bed, a mound of clean but unfolded laundry on the mattress next to him. He’d hardly gotten started but he found himself stuck, staring at the pair of jeans that he was holding with both hands.

His eyes were fixed on the grass stains still lingering on each knee, the green color of them still standing out more than he liked despite his best efforts. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from them, couldn’t move onto the next item of clothing. He couldn’t move on from what had happened two days before that caused the stains in the first place.

It was rare that he was ever the one to run physical interference for Mikey—Fak or Richie were usually around for that. That was partially because Carmy tried to keep himself away from those arguments, but it was also because Mikey was bigger and stronger and would have no qualms about putting Carmy flat on his ass if it came down to it. And the other day, that’s exactly what it had come down to. All because Lee had to come around and open his big fucking mouth.

Carmy wasn’t sure if the whole situation felt like a blur because he hit his head at some point during it, or because it really did happen that fast. He just remembered knowing that Mikey was going to do something. Stupid but understandable. He remembered the harsh impact of Mikey’s body against his, how it felt like Mikey didn’t even notice Carmy was there.

They went down but looking back on it now Carmy was certain that was more luck than anything. Carmy had clung to Mikey for dear life once he realized where he had him, remembered the sound of stitches ripping in Mikey’s blue Beef shirt. The words that Mikey had shouted at him and at Lee were nothing but static in the playback of his memories, but they stung at the time.

Mikey had gotten them apart when he was able to plant both palms against Carmy’s chest and shove, fueled by frustration as much as muscle. There were no marks left from Mikey’s hands but Carmy could’ve sworn he could still feel the way his palms scalded him.

Mikey had leveled out as quickly as he’d riled up once Lee was gone. He’d pulled Carmy up off the ground. He watched Carmy brush the grass and dirt off his knees.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Bear,” Mikey said, not really sounding all that sorry. “You know how Lee fuckin’ gets, though.”

He nodded, not just knowing how Lee gets but also knowing how Mikey got even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Yeah, yeah for sure. It’s, uh, it’s fine.”

Carmy shut his eyes tight to get himself out of the memory. Shaking his head, he chucked the jeans right back into the hamper, hoping another round through the wash would save the jeans even if it wouldn’t save anything else.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #my writing #carmy berzatto fanfiction #mikey berzatto fanfiction #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[nolita-fairytale]

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

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

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

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

how you end up meeting mikey:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"everything okay?" you ask.

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

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

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

#the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x oc #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #make my heart surrender #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy x you #carmy x reader #michael 'mikey' berzatto #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey the bear #nolita fairytale's follower celebration #nolita fairytale’s follower celebration #jon bernthal

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i'd like to order whiskey with mikey berzatto and 'don't go anywhere i can't follow', thank you <3

Follow You.

warnings - just a little hint at sexual content. and lots of fluff.

my first mikey fic!! I almost made this really sad, but decided against it. you should all be grateful. it was gonna be brutal. I adore mr bernthal and mikey too. <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He'd made a promise to you, one night.

Tucked up in bed, sheets strewn across your bodies, limbs tangled, hearts content.

You always get clingy, in the afterglow. Like to plaster yourself to him, making sure he doesn't go far.

Mikey gets up to grab you some water, but you whine and pull him back to you by his wrist.

"Sweet girl," he chuckles. "I'm just going to the kitchen."

You smile and climb onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stands up and piggybacks you all the way across the apartment.

"Don't go anywhere I can't follow," you whisper in his ear, half sincere, half joking.

He sets you on the counter, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

"I won't, baby. I promise."

That promise seemed sacred to him.

He locked himself in the walk in refrigerator at The Beef, one afternoon.

The both of you were crying with laughter, in disbelief at the absurdity of the situation. It was just the two of you in the restaurant, everyone else at home.

"Michael! You haven't frozen to death, right?"

"Not yet, honey!"

You're scrambling around, trying to find a screwdriver or a hammer or a wrench or anything that could be remotely useful. Your sides hurt, a giggle escaping you every now and again.

Eventually, you break him out. A mixture of smacking the lock with a mallet and Mikey kicking it as hard as he could did the trick.

You throw your arms around him, both of you still laughing.

"What did I say, huh?" you tease, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold lips. "Don't go anywhere I can't follow. That includes walk in refrigerators."

"I won't do it again, I promise," he murmurs against your mouth, hands grabbing at your hips, seeking your body's warmth. He wraps himself around you, still chuckling.

Years later, gold bands on both of your ring fingers, you're sat out on the porch. Cigarette between your fingers, sleeves pulled down your wrists to shield yourself from the Chicago chill, your husband's chest warm and solid behind you.

He's been quiet for too long. It's unusual.

You turn in his arms to face him, fingertips stroking across his cheekbones.

"Mikey," you murmur under your breath. "You with me?"

He nods, blinking back to reality.

"Where did you go, huh?"

He smiles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Nowhere, baby. Just thinking."

"You made a promise, remember?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't go anywhere I can't follow. That includes in there."

You tap a finger against his temple. He laughs.

"I was thinking about how lucky I am. To have met you. To get to love you."

"I'm the lucky one," you whisper, choking back tears.

"That's up for debate, baby."

Snow starts to fall, flakes scattering your sweaters. You lean back into your husband, his strong arms wrapped around you tightly. The two of you watch the winter come in, bodies warm and hearts content.

#mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #the bear imagine #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fluff #murphy's 3k celebration #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto fluff #michael berzatto fluff #jon bernthal #the bear #mikey berzatto x reader fluff #michael berzatto x reader fluff #michael berzatto imagine #mikey berzatto imagine #the bear x you #the bear x y/n

[thefanficmonster]

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.

#the bear #the bear fic #fx the bear #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto fanfic #mikey berzatto fanfic #michael berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto x reader #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #x reader

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader

read extended cut here [x]

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot). fluff and some angst! 

A/N: girlies, the whore jumped out! Takes place during episode 6 season 2. Credit to the gif creator! I hope y’all enjoy it. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head.

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times and twirling the wine glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” the lookalike chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit constantly and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit. Why Michelle skipped out of town and up to New York. Anything to keep the family an arms distance away. 

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouth pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face in mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikey shoves your panties to the side and rubs his saliva across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceasing to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you begin to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the coil inside you breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck you, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow it all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Exhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.

#Mikey berzatto x fem reader #Michael berzatto x reader #Michael berzatto x fem reader #the bear fanfiction

[thebearer]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"in a good way?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #bearblahs #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #the beef #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

[donatellawritings]

candy necklace - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

content warning(s): language, smoking, age-gap, pining

song: candy necklace by lana del rey

The crisp Chicago winter air hit your tender scalp as you exited the taxi cab and ran your fingers through your freshly blown out hair. It probably wasn't the smartest decision for you to wear nothing but a mere hoodie that belonged to him, a skintight t-shirt that barely reached for belly button, and yoga pants that clung to your skin, but hey, it was your day off and the only outfit appropriate and comfortable enough to get your hair done in and pick up your paycheck in. Plus, you were well aware that he would be at the restaurant today, and thankfully The Bear wasn't busy enough, to where he'd have no choice but to drink in your appearance.

Approaching the tall and older man, you shove your hands into the pockets of the sweater, before stopping short in front of him. You watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he wordlessly takes a pull from his cigarette, and loosens his tie to hang comfortably around his neck.

The two of you stand in silence as Richie taps the bottom of his cigarette, allowing the ashes to fall at his shoes, before raising his eyes to meet yours, "You here for your check?" He asks, his raspy voice like silk in your ears.

You nod, "and to see you," you take a step closer to Richie, catching how his shoulders and jaw begin to relax as the distance between your bodies begins to decrease.

Richie allows his shoulders to fall for a brief moment, before shaking his head and straightening his posture, "You're somethin' else, you know that?" His voice raises.

"Richie-" you begin.

"No, you don't get to fuckin' come here and stand there, when you aren't mine - do you not see how fucked up that is?" He rants, keeping his eyes locked solely on yours as you bring your gaze to your feet.

The brim of your eyes burn with welled tears as Richie's hand grabs ahold of your chin, a gentle yet firm touch. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it once you pull away from his touch, with a sniffle, "this isn't fair, you don't get to be upset with me," you hastily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

Richie allows his hand to drop this his side as you point your finger at him, "Y-you let me slip away, that was you, not me," you suck in a breath, "I fucking wanted you, Richie, I didn't want to be with h-" you sigh.

Richie's baby blue eyes glaze over as he watches your emotions overtake every inch of you. He wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, kiss your hair, and tell you that everything will be okay, even if it won't be. And seeing you in his sweater, oh, that is what gets him. Even though your hateful tears are staining your cheeks, he can't help but feel envy of the way that the fabric of his sweater gets to envelope you, while he remains at a dangerously close, yet existent distance from you.

"Your check is in the office." Richie's voice cuts into you with no warning, his face stoic as you blink away any remanence of threatening tears away. You make your way towards the back door, Richie's hand grabbing onto your wrist, before you are able to open the door. Your eyes meet his as he pulls you into his chest and cradles the back of your head. His lips press a warm kiss to the skin of your forehead as you relax in the confines of his warm and slender arms. You inhale a shaky breath as you take in the smell of his cologne, mixed with the lingering air of his cigarette. Richie presses another kiss to your nose, and to your cheek, stopping right before your lips.

"I want you, I-I fuckin' need you, so fuckin' bad and that shit scares me," he rants as he moves his hand to cradle your face, "I hate seeing you with him, I hate that he gets to come home to you, gets every part of you, I wanted that since the moment I fuckin' met you."

"Richie-"

"No- no, just listen to me baby, I'm sorry, I'm fuckin' sorry." Richie pleads, leaning his forehead against yours as you raise your hands to cradle his face.

"Richie, listen to me." You cry, your lips ghosting against his, "I want you to kiss me, okay?"

And so he does. The moment you ask, Richie's lips are on yours and the two of you are feverishly grabbing at each other's limbs, as Richie pushes you against the brick wall, holding one of your hands above your head, interlocking your fingers. A moan leaves Richie's lips as you softly bite down into the skin of his bottom lip, before sucking on it.

"Come home with me," You mutter, breathlessly, licking over your lips, watching as Richie tightens his hold on your waist, "please, come with me and I'm all yours."

"Fuck." A moment passes, before Richie nods his head, moreso to himself than to you, "Yeah, yeah, anything you want, baby." He rasps, his forehead leaned against yours as his baby blue eyes drink in yours.

Richie's head lowers to your neck, his hand that once held onto your waist, now resting on your neck as his lips find the sweet spot right on your pulse, before softly suckling on the skin. Your head rolls back against the brick wall as Richie continues to work on the flesh of your neck. A soft moan leaves your lips as he softly licks the freshly bruised and broken skin. Richie continues this process for a few more minutes, until he is satisfied, pulling his lips away from your neck.

"I want you to leave him." Richie speaks, wiping the corners of his mouth while he adjusts the cuffs of his black button-down shirt, "you leave him and I'm all yours, I fuckin' promise you that."

A smile tugs on your lips as you slide your arms around the tall man's waist and push yourself to meet his lips, "Anything you want, Richie."

You pull away from Richie, your hands now reaching for the tie that messily hung around his neck, before grabbing ahold of the end of it and beckoning him to follow you inside of the building.

-

and that's all for now! I hope you all enjoyed my first writing, I promise that I have longer writings in the works, but I just wanted to post this, just to get a gist of what it's like to post <;3

feel free to send me any requests!

#the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich fanfic #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

[chelseasdagger]

Behind the Red in My Eyes

Mikey Berzatto x Reader

Summary: Mikey comes home, yet again, exhausted after a long shift at The Beef. You offer him some encouraging words and his favorite touch to unwind.

Warnings: cursing

Author's Note: This is my first entry for @bernthirst-events's Beardthal Bash! I had this idea for a while, but I ended up writing way more plot than was needed oops! I still hope there was enough mention of the beard to count!

Word Count: 2.9k+

Mikey Berzatto took pride in his work. It may not be the most glamorous job, but he put countless hours into the family restaurant that he tries so hard to keep afloat. It’s one of your favorite things about him—how much heart he puts into everything he does.

The only downside is how often you’re stuck missing him while the apartment grows too quiet as the hours pass. You have the schedule of The Beef’s hours ingrained in your mind, tacking on the extra time it takes to close up at night. But all the counting does little to stop the frequent checking of the clock on your phone’s lockscreen.

You were thankful when he worked up the deal with Carmy to split some of the necessary management time at the sandwich shop—if you could call it management time. It would be more truthful to call it “babysitting”, taking into consideration the hotheadedness of the staff. And let's be honest, leaving the restaurant in the hands of Richie Jerimovich? Absolutely not.

But, as much as the Berzatto brothers meant well, this plan didn’t last. It worked for a while, Mikey taking the mornings and helping with opening the store so that around the time that the menu changed, Carmy could come in and work until close. They figured it would be the best way to not overwork themselves but still put a healthy amount of time into their family business.

And then one day it was too busy for Mike to come home. Since then, there hasn’t really been a fix to the original plan. You miss him a lot and definitely wish you could see him more, but you feel so much pride swelling in your chest each time you think of how hard he works for that little brick building. No amount of missing him could outweigh that feeling—or how your face feels as if it might split in two when you sneak into the restaurant and see how happy he is to be there.

Nine times out of ten, you walk in and see his smile brightening the whole room as his infectious laugh fills the air. His eyes would be squinted into thin lines as his head falls back and he clutches his chest for a breath. He always cared about the people and wanted everyone to feel welcome there no matter their background or history. You loved seeing him like this and kept these memories at the front of your mind whenever it got harder to be patient on the long nights alone.

Your phone is in your hand before you can even register it. A habit I need to break, you remind yourself, but your screen shows the time anyway. Quarter after midnight. You place the phone down on the coffee table with a sigh, exchanging it for the book that your friend swore you had to read.

Tucking your finger between the pages and your bookmark, you open up the book and scan the printed words until you can jog your memory of the last thing you read. Once you find your place, you tuck your legs to your chest and lazily tug the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover yourself. It doesn’t take long before your surroundings begin to fade and the words paint a picture in your mind.

You look up from your book at the sound of keys jingling inside the metal deadbolt on your apartment door. What time is it? A second later the door is opening and there stands Mikey. He sighs as he holds onto the doorframe before pressing the toes of one foot to the heel of the other, taking his shoes off before bending down to place them beside the entrance.

When he stands back up you finally get a good look at him in the lamplight. His shoulders are slouched, his whole body a portrait of exhaustion. He’s rubbing his knuckles sleepily at his eyes, setting the keys down on the small table beside him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you call to him as his footsteps gently sound out on the wooden floors. He finally glances over to the couch once he notices you and the smile that stretches over his face is tired, yet genuine.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers back to you. His voice is hoarse, mostly likely due to all the yelling in the chaotic kitchen he’s spent the whole day inside of. It’s almost as if his words are caught in his chest, sounding out deep and warm when he speaks. He makes his way to the couch, leaning over the back of it, and placing a quick peck of his lips on your forehead.

As soon as you feel it, he’s gone, making his way to the kitchen in the next room over. You can immediately tell something is off; Mikey gets quiet after a long day of being the loudest guy in the room, but he’s not usually reserved in his affection towards you.

The blanket you were wrapped up in slowly slides down your chest and onto your lap as you sit up against the arm of the couch. You question whether you should push it, but something in your gut wouldn’t leave it be.

“Mikey? You okay?” you call out towards the kitchen. The sound of him closing cupboards echoes through the space next. He makes his way to the fridge, opening it before leaning inside and scanning the leftovers from the meals you make while he’s out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds monotonously, pulling away with a glass container in his hand. The slightly blue lighting shines across his face, illuminating his features in a cold hue. It looks almost intentional, as if to reflect his mood. “What is this?”

“Baked ziti from last night. I’m here for you, Bear, you know that right?” You don’t miss a beat, purposefully choosing not to fall for his distraction of mentioning the food. You watch as he pauses for a moment, setting the food down on the counter and closing the fridge before walking back towards you. You never want to push him or demand he open up to you, but you also want him to know he can lean on you if need be.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he sinks down onto the cushion beside you, one arm resting along the length of the couch, the other propping his head up in his palm. You can see all the evidence of his tiring day of work now that he’s closer to you: the dark grease stains along the bottom of his blue shirt, the marks under his eyes indicating he didn’t sleep enough, the new bandage wrapped around his thumb. All signs point to a draining, most likely not rewarding, day.

Gently reaching out for his wrist, you pull his larger hand into yours. “What happened here?” He moves with you, turning his palm face up as you let your index finger gently trace over his skin. The bandage is uneven, and you can see the faint maroon marking under the tan color.

“Was a uh,” he begins, sighing as he rubs at his eyes with the knuckles of his free hand. “Was an accident. Cousin called me while I was choppin’ onions and, well,” he gestures to his injured thumb. You feel your features change as he speaks, the words painting a clear picture in your head of him in the kitchen as he gets hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” you whisper in the small space between the two of you. Your own fingers drag down the inside of his arm, trailing over scars from accidental fryer burns and playing rough outside with Carmy when he was younger. All the little markings on his skin have little stories behind them, and you cherish the boisterous laughter that comes from him when he tells the tales.

“S’alright, baby, happens all the time,” he attempts to reassure you. The tone surrounding his words falls flat and leaves you with the same weariness in your mind. Glancing up at his face, you see the tired lines under his eyes and the way he stares out at nothing while his mind wanders.

Curling your fingers around him tighter, you bring his hand up to your face and place a gentle kiss right under the bandage. It takes him another moment to react due to the other thoughts trailing around in his mind. When he finally glances over, his eyes are fixed on your lips pressing against him, the small peck sending a wave of warmth through him. You continue staring up at him from under your eyelashes; the sigh that leaves him makes his chest deflate when his gaze locks with yours.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, a sad smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” you ask, wanting to try and improve his mood. He twists his back and adjusts himself against the couch.

“Nah, nah, baby, it’s okay. It’ll heal up,” he answers dismissively. It’s clear he didn’t pick up on the other meaning of your question, so you try wording it another way.

“No I didn’t mean the cut, Mikey.” His eyebrows pull together, confusion painted all over his features. “I can see how tired you are,” you continue, watching him sigh again and prepare to defend himself. “I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders, is all. I’m not gonna say to cut your hours back, I know you can’t do that but…” you find your words trailing off when he reaches up to drag his palm down his face.

“You have to at least take care of yourself,” you whisper the final words as his hand drops to his lap. There’s a silence that lingers over the room and you’re worried you’ve overstepped in suggesting the restaurant being the source of a good portion of his stress.

“You’re right,” he speaks up, and you feel the tension leaving your body almost instantly. “You’re right, I just don’t… think about it?” his tone rises at the end, twisting the sentence into more of a question. His eyes find yours again and you give him a slight nod, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“It just… It’s always been the restaurant first, y’know? Like if that goes under then I’ve got nothing left. And then all the things everybody says about me are true.” He finishes the last sentences with an exasperated breath. Your heart sinks at his words, especially after spending one too many family dinners at his mother’s house and hearing how they treat him and his impulsivity. You want to defend him, but choose not to interrupt his venting.

“And nobody in my family knows how to slow down. I mean, shit, look at Carm,” he chuckles dryly as he shakes his head. “Nearly fuckin’ killed himself out in New York. Mom doesn’t have her head screwed on straight, doesn’t know what’s going on half the fuckin’ time. It just—.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low in his hands.

There’s a quick sniffle before he’s raking his fingers through his hair roughly. He sits up and stares down at his fingers, anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. Every fiber in your being screams to reach out to him and comfort him, and this time you listen to your instincts.

“Mikey,” you start, gently placing your hand on his forearm and pulling him towards you. His body falls and you feel his weight instantly pressing into your shoulder. Slumped against you like this, his body heat instantly warms up your side and you melt in turn.

“I know you might not know how to take those breaks, but we can work through it together,” you attempt to calm him. “It might not be easy at first but we can just take it one day at a time, yeah?” You glance down at your shoulder to see him staring up at you with half closed eyes. He slowly blinks before finally registering that you asked him a question.

“I like that plan,” he says eventually. His lips part as a yawn takes over and you smile as his eyes scrunch up while his jaw drops open.

“Oh, poor baby…” you chuckle under your breath. His face rests back in his natural position, but his eyes remain shut. He looks so peaceful like this that it makes your heart warm. Admittedly, it’s been too long since you’ve seen him truly relaxed like this. The last few times must’ve been when you were waking up in the night and happened to catch him asleep.

Stolen glances in the middle of the night aren’t enough, you decide. Adjusting your body on the couch, you angle yourself so your back is against the arm of the couch and your legs extend down the length of the cushions. You pull his body between your legs, guiding his head down to rest on your chest.

“You know none of that shit they say is true… right?” you ask softly as you let your fingers trail down his neck and smoothe down his back. He may not look like it, but Mike is one of the biggest suckers for physical touch—specifically cuddling.

He only hums in response, but still you continue. “The restaurant wasn’t a bad idea, baby. I think it’s sweet you kept something in the family name.” You drag your nails down his broad back softly and feel him sigh deeply, the leftover tension finally leaving his body.

“‘M pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that,” he mumbles out, not bothering to lift his head from you. 

“I swear to god the next time Uncle Lee, or whoever, opens their god damn mouth I’m gonna be the one to throw a fork.” The next thing you feel is Mikey’s laughter shaking you, his rumbly chuckle sounding out in the quiet room. You let yourself smile at the pleasant sound, pressing your fingers into the junction where his neck meets his shoulders. With each push of your fingertips, you try to get rid of those pesky knots of stress that his body is unconsciously clinging on to.

“Seriously though,” you start again, wrapping your arms around his head this time, “we’ll figure it all out. I just want you to rest for now.” You tilt your head down and press your lips to the top of his head. You shut your eyes and try to focus on this moment: the feeling of his body weighing on your torso, his hot breath gently fanning over your arm, his scent relaxing you with each inhale you take.

You let your fingers wander, scratching your nails around his scalp under his hair. There’s a raspy groan that leaves him next and the sound has butterflies​​ suddenly coming to life in your stomach. A giggle slips out from between your lips as you ask, “Feels that good?”

Something bumps the side of your palm as you continue to play with his hair and you reach for it blindly. You try your hardest not to let disappointment wash over you as you stare at the cigarette between your fingers.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Mikey bear,” you speak in a whisper. A little less than a week ago, Mike decided to stop smoking and using drugs. You knew he could do it but you also knew how big of a step he was taking, so you tried giving as much support as you could offer. He tilts his head up at your voice and looks at you with confusedly. He glances down at the tightly rolled paper in your grasp before shaking his head gently.

“That’s from this morning, baby. Cousin offered it when he clocked in and I didn’t want to say no and have him asking a bunch of fuckin’ questions,” he explains exasperatedly. “But no, I-I didn’t smoke today.” His words are bathed with sincerity even through the tired rasp of his tone.

Your face lights up instantly, pride swelling in your chest once you realize that he kept his promise to you—his promise to himself. You can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to cut everything out like that, but you know he’s going to feel better in the long run because of it.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you whisper as your fingers brush down his sideburns and begin to smooth out over his beard. “You’re doing so much and I see it.” You worry your words fall flat, but you also know how sometimes all you want is for someone to say that they notice the work you’re doing.

“Thank you.” You believe for a second that you imagined the words due to the barely audible breath that surrounds them. He reaches up to hold your wrist before turning his head to kiss the back of your hand. Sweet moments like this make your heart melt for him and how gentle he can be. There’s not much else to say so the both of you sit in silence, comforted by the presence of the other.

Your nails drag along the short hair that decorates his jaw and you watch his eyes flutter close for the last time. As you wrap your other arm across his chest and pull him closer, you smile at the sound of his soft snores filling the air. The ends of his facial hair tickle your fingertips but you continue gently scratching, wanting to give him a comforting touch to fall into an even deeper sleep.

“Rest up, baby boy,” you whisper as you kiss his head one final time.

#mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #BeardthalBash #beardthal bash 2023 #chelsea writes

[angelcakestarlet]

white mustang

dbf! richie jerimovich x reader

after your estranged father, mikey berzatto, passes away, who else is there to lean one but his best friend richie?

mike never had to say it out loud, but it was pretty evident that you weren't meant to 'happen'. you were just a reminder that his lifestyle would catch up to him eventually, as it had already done once with you. he tried to be there, bringing you down to the beef on days he could convince your mom to let him see you. he'd keep you in the office with some sandwich wraps to color on and crayons, showing you off to tina and everyone else in the kitchen who had convinced themselves that maybe, just maybe, you would be bear's saving grace. when richie found out mikey had knocked some broad up, he was conflicted. upset because he believed a kid would put a stop to the fun waiting for them in the rest of their twenties and yet to come thirties, slightly relieved because he finally had something worth pushing for. and for a while, you were just that. the staff saw it, richie saw it, you were keeping him just that more sane, just enough. yeah he was a father now but that didn't stop him from joining richie on deal runs, you in the car seat he bought from baby's r us last minute. and until the age of 15, he was (mostly) there, as much as his mind allowed him to be. he had outbursts, your mom didn't want you near him or "that piece of shit restaurant", you and everyone else could tell it was going from okay to bad. and bad quickly became scary, when you wouldn't see him for months. you'd be forced to text richie asking where the fuck your dad was, if he was okay. but richie never had an answer and mike didn't either. but you could see it in his eyes when you would finally stumble upon him after every other month, he had been somewhere inside him that was dark. the longest you went without hearing from him was six months, half a year. your 17th birthday had passed and tina, sugar, pete, ebraheim, cicero, and the rest of the family celebrated with you in the restaurant trying to distract you and themselves from the fact no one, not even richie, could seem to find mike. you saw him one last time, right before he died, after not hearing from him for months he invited you over. it was your second year of college and you were just trying to make it by when you got a call from a number you didn't recognize. you immediately recognized his voice, he was asking you to come over. you reluctantly agreed, being greeted to a messy house with papers everywhere and pill bottles littering little crevices in failed attempts to hide them from himself. that night, he cooked for you one last time. a part of you convinced yourself there was hope left behind his eyes, watching his back profile moving around the kitchen and whipping up a dish like he used to. how he used to sit you on the counter top, made you taste everything with your small hands while richie laughed his ass off at how huge his chain was on you calling you "a fucking g". two months later he shot himself. at the bottom of your stomach behind the sadness and guilt, you almost felt, cathartic? not because he was dead, no. but because you'd never have to wait months to hear from him again, or look down alleyways in hopes of seeing him, or have to look in his eyes and see the glimpse of someone he could have been. you start hanging around the restaurant more despite sugars protests. you never did well coping with your addict father when he was alive, when he'd leave you'd seek that nausea and sinking feeling he brought you elsewhere. it was easy to stumble upon all kinds of trouble, you were young, you were beautiful, and worst of all you were chasing the feeling you knew mike would and could never bring you.

a few months after his death, carmy's recent resurgence, and multiple trips to the bar downtown you decided the comfort of vodka seltzers and the pervy bartender was no longer enough. you were leaving the beef one night, passing by carmy's office to steal his carton of sapphires when you met richie outside for a smoke. "you finally ditch the marbolo red's, kid?" it was a cool spring evening in chicago, you wore your white sundress over warm socks. "you wish, richard" you let out a small laugh, "i'm just saying those are for pansies or hookers no in between, sweetheart." you looked at him baffled by whatever led him to that conclusion. "so what you're saying is the last hooker you had to hire to suck you off smoked malboro's?" you looked at him, reaching into him jean pocket and stealing his lighter. he scoffed, "you know i miss when you didn't have that fucking mouth on ya." he jabbed his cigarette in your direction, clenching his teeth. you chuckled at how easily he got riled up, he just loved arguing. "okay, old man. i'm going down to the bar, you coming or not?" you took a short drag of the cigarette, not used to the taste of carmy's choice in smokes. "why so i can watch you flirt with some jagoff for drinks all night?" he grimaced, "key word is, free, drinks, richie." he stepped on what was left of his cigarette at the word 'free', nodded, and began walking to his car.

richie shamelessly watched your dress hike up the back of your soft thighs as you leaned over the bar to get closer to the bartender. you had that berzatto gift (curse?) of being so fucked up it was hot. richie always felt a tinge of guilt when he perked up at the sight of your legs beneath a skirt, or your cleavage being hugged by your low shirts and dresses. but he told himself it was always okay to look if he wasn't going to do anything about it. and even if he wanted to, he knew mike would've killed him, or carmen, or tina. you sauntered your way back to the table with a round of shots and two beers. "do you have no shame, sweetheart?" he jokingly asked taking his beer into his own hand. "you tell me" you let out before throwing back a shot. he let out a chuckle, you were really something. as you threw your head back with the shot glass he made out the skin and freckles adorning on your neck beneath the dim light. he noticed how quickly you went back for seconds, and a third, until you were leaning over the table speaking to him in a hushed voice. he had downed the same amount as you had, but he was a 45 year old man who towered over you. "richie?" you spoke in a combination of a whisper and giggle, "how much do you wanna bet i can get that guy over there to get us another free round?". richie wouldn't bet a dollar that the guy wouldn't, seeing as he had his eyes glued to your ass the entire night. maybe it was the alcohol, but the guy's looming gaze felt like a god damn bee buzzing in richie's ear. and you entertaining dick's like him made it ten times worse. "god, i never took you as such a slut." he looked at you, eyebrows raised almost mockingly. your tipsy smile fell, "what the fuck, richie". you got up out of the bar stool, making a squeak against the floor and sped your way out the bar. richie took one last swing off his beer before making his way after you. he found you in back of the bar, only illuminated by the yellowish street lamp a few feet away. you were sniffling, crying in between small hiccups. richie kneeled down in front of you and brought his hand to cup your cheek, "you're lost, sweetie, look at you. getting drunk on weekdays and doing god knows what for a free round of drinks. it's not your fault," your tears stopped falling, entranced with how bright his eyes contrasted against the darkness surrounding you as he grabs the hem of your dress toying with it, "you've got no one to guide you, take care of you. you just need someone to take care you, huh?" his voice dripped with a condescension that made something bubble in the depths of your stomach. you nodded your head against his hand, looking at him through wet lashes, "let me help you, doll" he wiped past your tears with his rough thumb. he knew it was wrong, dirty, but he'd rather it be him than some 20 year old schmuck who would pretend to know you. richie knew you, the darkest parts of you. "can you help me, richie? please" you let out quietly. richie smiled, sickeningly sweet, as he brought his thumb down to swipe past your shiny bottom lip that was sticky with lip gloss. you felt your mouth drop open as if his finger took control of you, "poor thing, you've got no clue what to do with yourself. acting like a slut for anybody when you know who you'll come running to." his thumb entered your parted lips, you closed around him swirling your tongue around and humming against him. he let out a groan, "i'm the only one who can take care of you, okay?". you felt like you were floating, between the alcohol and richie's presence consuming you. you stared at his lips with hazy eyes and let go of his thumb with a 'pop', "kiss me" you barely whispered, "don't be rude, doll." he brought his hand down, holding you by the crevice of your neck, "richie, i need you". he roughly brought his mouth down to yours, letting it devour you. you whined into his mouth as he bit down on your lip. he detached himself, a string of saliva connecting you. he brought his hand down his face, staring at your puffy lips. he knew he was fucked.

pt 2?

#richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich imagine #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #richie #the bear fx #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #bear berzatto #sugar berzatto #natalie berzatto

[darlingshane]

> DRABBLES & ONE-SHOTS – Greetings from Boston (GN!Reader) – Secret Ingredient – The Storm * – Something Crazy * – Let it rip, Coach – Burden (platonic Carmy & SIL!Reader)

> CHEMISTRY SERIES – Part 1: Afternoon Delight * – Part 2: Kiss the Cook *

> SALT OF THE EARTH (Michael x OFC) – Chapters 1 - 4 – Chapters 5 - 7 * – Chapters 8 - 10 *

* = Explicit – No use of y/n. No physical descriptions. – F!reader unless stated otherwise. – Check out my main masterlist for other characters.

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #michael berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #michael berzatto masterlist #character masterlist #jon bernthal #michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto x oc #mikey berzatto

[periprose]

The Bear

Michael Berzatto x Reader

Fly Away

↳ friends to lovers, former crush on carm, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n

You’re a family friend of the Berzattos and you’re invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Honey Butter (On AO3, On hiatus, probably gonna be deleted soon lol)

↳ strangers to lovers, mutual pining, you're a food journalist who's friends with Sydney, idk where I was going with this one but I don't believe I'll continue it since it was based on just the first season lol

(More coming soon!)

#the bear fx #masterlist #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x you #x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear x you #the bear imagine #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #mikey berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #michael berzatto

[drabbles-mc]

Drabbles-MC: The Bear Fics

Fic list under the cut!

👀 = smut, 💔 = angst

- After Hours (Carmy Berzatto & F!Reader)

- All Good Here (Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich)

- What Did You Do? (Mikey Berzatto & Richie Jerimovich) 💔

- The Bridge (Carmy Berzatto) 💔

- Closing the Gap (Carmy Berzatto x Luca)

- You Have Friends? (Richie Jerimovich x Reader, Richie & Carmy & Fak)

- Curbside Service (Luca x GN!Reader)

- Latest & Greatest (Neil Fak & F!Reader)

- It'll Get Done, Part 2 (Richie Jerimovich & F!Reader)

- No Good Time For This (Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich)

- Home for the Holidays? (Carmy Berzatto x OC)

- Take It Down (Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich)

- Polyester (Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich)

- Go Ask Mom (Natalie Berzatto & Neil Fak)

- Denim (Carmy Berzatto & Mikey Berzatto) 💔

- Behind (Carmy Berzatto & Pete)

- Close One (Luca x GN!Reader)

- Storm (Richie Jerimovich & GN!Reader)

- Compliments (Marcus Brooks x GN!Reader)

- Side-Tracked (Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich)

#the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich x sydney adamu #sydney adamu x richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #luca #luca the bear #carmy berzatto x luca

[readingwiththereids]

y’all are gonna hate me so bad but you know that scene in s1e8 during the show sequence thing when he’s like “no letter, no goodbye. blah blah blah” like the crowd reactions are just so !! like it makes me laugh every single time 😭

#carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #mikey berzatto

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Two

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: You knew that returning to The Beef wouldn't be easy, but you also didn't know it would be this hard either. 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of grief, death, mental health issues, strained relationships, sharp objects, mild violence, and injuries.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: My sweet snickerdoodles . . . I just wanna say that i adore you all . I completely forgot to mention (wow breadstick you forget a lot for being a fanfiction veteran I know I know) but this is a slow burn . All things will be revealed in due time . Patience will grant you mercy one day, but that day is not today so sit tight and read on ! ! Also, i may or may not have written this at 5 am while dealing with a bout of insomnia which is why the ultra specific time is mentioned at the end lolllll . Ily babes I hope u all enjoy ! 

*Note: "mija", directly translated from Spanish, means "my daughter" but in this, it is being used as a term of endearment (fem.) similar to "darling" or "sweetheart"

Taglist: @marysucks-blog

MASTERLIST / Prologue / Chapter One

The Beef was silent, an accomplishment that would be thrown into the history books. Chef chatter aside, no conversations about the latest happenings, no jokes, and nothing else aside from kitchen happenings was mentioned. 

To say it was tense is an understatement. 

But here you were, ignoring the way that the extremely sharp knife you were using to chop some vegetables would probably struggle to cut the thick tension in the air. 

From across the kitchen and standing by the door of the office was Sugar. 

Her eyes felt like they were seering holes on your back. 

She chewed her bottom lip with her arms crossed and eyebrows creasing, watching you carefully. She noted the way you carefully yielded the knife, avoiding your fingers and skillfully chopped the onions into a julienne cut. 

The memory of when Carmy taught you how to do that, years ago, on a night when Mikey was cooking dinner for all five of you, popped into her mind. She could practically smell the browning of garlic and even hear Mikey teasingly warning Carmy that his girl better come out of the lesson unscathed, Richie laughing loudly in the background. 

With a sigh, Sugar turned to walk back into the office, catching Richie's eyes before closing the door behind her. Richie winced, unsure what to do with Sugar's silent communication of 'do something!'.

Beside you, a stranger grabbed a bowl of chopped onions from you. Turning out of instinct, you and the stranger made eye contact before she smiled briefly and turned away. You couldn't help but feel elated that someone from here, anyone, looked at you without this watery, dejected look in their eye that they either hid or showed unabashedly.  

Carmy barks out a couple orders, as usual, before passing you, "Behind."

He placed his hand onto your shoulder, gripping it softly but right as he put it there, it disappeared. You barely had any time to react to it, feel the warmth for a split second before he moved away to continue his work. Your shoulder twitched as you paused for a second before resuming your task. 

Everyone around you kept moving, efficiently calling out to one another to keep this machine of a restaurant going. They moved quickly and without doubt, from one place to another but they all managed to migrate back to their original stations. 

And here you were, standing over a cutting table, holding a knife, with a never ending supply of onions to chop. 

"Hey…"

The onions just kept coming. 

"Hey uhm…"

Once you thought you finished cutting them all, more just appeared there. You didn't notice if someone put them there but, if you did, you just seemed to block it out. 

"Yo…" 

You could always put the knife down and step away from the onions, but you didn't. This was your station, you were needed here. If you stopped, what would happen? What would you do? What would everyone else do? 

Carmy yelled out your name. 

You whipped your head around, making yourself stumble. Everyone around you looked away in an instant, busying their hands and eyes. 

"Everyone's getting ready to go now," he said, trailing off into a softer tone at the end. 

You blinked and nodded, placing the knife down and wiping your hands on your apron before approaching the office where Sugar stood. There she held your stuff, still looking at you in a way that made that pit in your stomach come back. You forced out a smile, trying to show her that you were okay, but that look never went away. 

As Ebra was about to leave through the backdoor, he paused and turned to you. He nodded and tried to smile but it came out looking like a mix of a smile and wince that made you want to both laugh and cry. 

Ebrahim said your name, making you furrow your brows, before he said, "Your return is welcomed." 

With that, he left. 

Slowly, you began to nod your head, looking off to the side. His words felt oddly comforting. You had known him for a long time now as he was a long time chef here at The Beef and while your conversations used to be extensive, this one line he shared with you now said everything that needed to be said in the moment. 

Marcus and the stranger who smiled at you earlier, whom you came to know as Sydney, were chatting quietly by the lockers before they too passed you as you took off your apron and handed it to Sugar. 

"It's nice to have you around again," Marcus said, before reaching forward to embrace you. 

You embraced him back, squeezing your eyes shut as you were reminded of how every 'hello!' and 'goodbye!' the two of you shared while at The Beef was accompanied with a hug, like a slow simmered and flavorful sauce that perfectly complemented a dish. 

Sydney nodded and gave you a tight smile, "Nice to meet you…" 

You nodded back and cleared your throat, giving her your name as you awkwardly introduced yourself. Despite spending the whole day with each other, you never once formally introduced yourselves, just listened to others throw your names back and forth. 

"It's nice to meet you too." 

The two left quietly.

Tina, Manny, and Angel all walked toward the door. The two men nodded in your direction before leaving while Tina stopped and smiled warmly. 

"I'm glad you came, mija*," Tina whispered, reaching to place her hand on your arm. 

You could feel the worn skin of her hands press into your skin, making goosebumps appear over your arms. 

Hiking her bag over her shoulder, Tina left with a glance back to you. 

The door closed, leaving only you, Sugar, Carmy, and Richie to be the only ones inside The Beef. Fak had left earlier in the day, hugging you tightly much to the dismay of Richie who made it known that he thought Fak was smothering you. But you appreciated Fak's sweet nature for a brief second until it became a reminder of once was, making your mood sour as he left. 

The clank of the back door closing made you look over to the three others in the building with you. Carmy was wiping down some of the tables in the kitchen, Richie was glancing at you from the front counter as he messed with the register, and Sugar was chewing on her lip and staring at the floor beside you. 

All three looked like they wanted to tell you something but couldn't. Well Carmy looked like everything he did want to say was buried deep inside and he was just going to ignore it all, Richie looked like he wasn't sure how to start the conversation, and Sugar looked like she desperately wanted to start the conversation but didn't want to upset you in the process. 

With all your stuff in tow, you gave the three of them one more glance before shrugging and turning around, feeling relieved that the day didn't end in tears, a yelling match, or at the hospital. So you turned around, ready to go home and not deal with this stuffy air or pity and grief anymore. 

"Wait-!" 

You froze, face squeezing together. You were this close to getting out… this close! 

You let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding and slowly swiveled around on your feet, soles squeaking underneath you. 

You knew that all three of them spoke at the same time, voicing the exact same thought at once. But no one spoke when you turned, only looking away from you. 

The lights buzzed quietly and the clock in the office clicked softly, being the only sounds that echoed in the room. Your eyes shifted from each of the three as you felt yourself getting more and more desperate to just go home. 

Carmy was the first to break the silence, making you take a sharp inhale, "You did good today, Chef." 

You sighed, "Thank you, Chef." 

He rubbed the back of his neck, other hand on his waist. His back was still turned away from you so you had no idea if he was cringing from what he said out of the blue or meant it genuinely. Either way, you would've said thank you. 

Sugar said your name before continuing, "It's okay to feel-" 

Richie interjected rather quickly, "Do you have a place to stay, cousin?"

Both you and Carmy winced as Sugar and Richie shared a quick glare. They then turned their attention back to you, gazes softening. But you and Carmy both understood the implication, making you both squirm a bit. 

You opened your mouth to respond, before closing it again, feeling a bit like a fish. But nevertheless, you carefully chose your words and continued, "If there's anything you really want to tell me, get it over with now." 

You looked around again. You can feel yourself getting increasingly agitated at the way they all avoided your gaze as if looking at you would be enough to make you shatter into millions of glass pieces. 

Carmy simply nodded and looked away at your statement, making you roll your eyes. So he was just going to ignore everything, okay then.

Sugar hummed to herself, foot tapping on the floor quietly before she finally said, somewhat exasperated, "It's okay to feel… not okay, okay?"

This made you snort.

She looked at you, somewhat taken aback, as you coughed, trying to cover the unexpected snort you just let out. 

"Yea… I know." You said, brief humor disappearing. 

"Have you been to therapy or anything?" She continued, surprising you. 

You stood up straight, actually considering her words. Therapy was something that felt somewhat foreign to you. While you were no stranger to it, having been for other things before, you hadn't gone specifically for Mikey's death. If anything, you avoided it. 

"Uhm… no I haven't…" 

Sugar sighed, "You uhm, if you haven't already, which i'm sure you have, you should consider going…" 

You closed your eyes, the implication of going to see a professional about this making you nervous. But before you could get deeper into those thoughts, Richie spoke up. 

"Where are you staying at?" He asked. 

"I'm at my parent's, right now." 

His forehead creased before he continued, "Are you here for a while or…?"

Sighing you let your hands clap onto your thighs, "I guess so… as far as i know i have nothing out west." 

At this, he perked up, "You'll be okay there..?" 

The way he worded that sounded like a cross between a question and a statement, as if he was both reassuring you that you would be okay at home and asking you if you would be okay at the place where you got the news of your boyfriend’s death. 

"Yea." You stated in a matter of fact tone that even surprised yourself. 

You rolled your shoulders back, holding your head up high. You walked into The Beef earlier that day hoping to pretend that you were the same confident and fun person you were prior to Mikey's death yet all that just melted away the second you were inside. But it was never too late for you to bring that facade back, was it? 

You smiled and took a deep breath, "You all have my phone number, if you need me, call or text me. You also all know where I'm at right now, you are free to come over anytime. It was really nice seeing you all, goodnight." 

With that, you left, closing the door and leaving all the unanswered questions that the people you once considered family had behind. 

You didn't hear from any of them until a week later. You had avoided them and The Beef in the time being, choosing to stay at home whenever your parents tried to get you to do minor outings like joining them to shop at the grocery store or walk around the neighborhood. You knew that you would have to pull your weight around the house soon too, but would probably choose to do laundry, yard work, cooking meals, or cleaning before going out and risking running into someone you knew. 

Or even worse, a reminder of what you lost. 

So you stayed at home, leaving the few belongings you brought with you in boxes around your room. They, like you, were stuck in limbo, unsure whether or not you would be staying or going. 

The only tangible thing you really had anymore were your thoughts. Somedays they made you laugh and other days, they made you cry until you fell asleep with puffy eyes and a nauseous stomach.

When Richie called you three days later to meet him at some random address, you were confused. His rough voice was oddly soft, speaking carefully and clearly. He didn't answer any of your questions either, just reiterating the directions and that he was fine. You were even more confused when you realized that you were meeting him outside an urgent care in the city. The confusion only grew into panic when you saw that he was sitting in a wheelchair with a nurse behind him next to the front curb of the building. 

As your car slowed down in front of him, you quickly unbuckled yourself and hopped out of your car but before you could say anything, the nurse spoke up.

"Make sure he keeps the area dry for the next 24 to 48 hours. He needs to gently clean the area with water twice a day after that. Replace the bandage twice a day and then everytime you clean it. Richard should already know what to do but I thought this information should also be relayed to you." 

"Uh... okay." You said, smiling nervously at her. 

Your eyes shifted to Richie who looked at you guiltily. 

After both you and the nurse helped Richie into the passenger seat of your car, the two of you took off in silence. Soft jazz played on the radio, tuned to some random channel you didn't bother to change because you were too busy wondering how you even got here. 

Once you stopped at a red light a couple blocks away, you spoke up, "Why the fuck are you sitting in my car with stitches???"

Richie snorted and winced, "I'm fine, thanks for asking." 

You groaned, rolling your eyes and accelerating as the light turned green, "Okay well you're alive so that's all that matters. Now tell me why you're sitting in my car with stitches."

Richie leaned his head against the window, looking out, "...Do you even want me to tell you? It has to do with The Beef…" 

You were silent, debating. On one hand, you were worried and wanted to know what happened, but another part of you warned you that this piece of information would only begin dragging you back to the very place you didn't want to go back to. 

Meanwhile, the soft jazz continued, filling in the space of silence between you two. 

"Fine." You finally murmured.

"Shit got messy with this new to-go thing that Sydney added, which was her fault by the way, and fucked everything up right before the lunch rush. Marcus was too busy focusing on his donut to do his job and it all just… blew up in our faces!" Richie gestured wildly, very obviously still upset. 

You nodded slowly, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you imagined what he was saying.

"Carmy threw a fucking fit and was yelling at everyone and when I tried to step in, I only ended up arguing with Sydney and when I tried to be the bigger person and walk away, guess fucking what, i get stabbed."

"What?!" You jerk, alarmed. 

The car swerved a bit making Richie groan as he put pressure onto his wound. You quickly straighten the car and mumbled a curse followed by an apology.

"I'm okay! I'm okay! Sydney was holding a knife and didn't say anything so when I moved with my back to her, I moved into the knife she was holding. It wasn't like she tried to stab me or anything, she was just being stupid." He quickly adds, adjusting himself in his seat with a wince as he tried to quell your fear. 

You slumped back into your seat, chewing so hard on your bottom lip that you hissed in pain when you bit too hard, "Jesus…"

"Sydney quit and Marcus pretty much did too, fucking assholes. I got halfway through the lunch rush before Tina forced me to go get medical attention. Carmy was too pissed off to say anything about it but yea…" 

You parked your car in front of the place you knew as Richie's apartment. You got there purely by muscle memory, which made Richie's chest tighten when he noticed but didn't say a word about. 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, "So you're telling me that all hell broke loose today, Carmy lost it, Syd and Marcus quit, and you got stabbed?"

Richie nodded, "In the ass."

You stared at him blankly. 

"Well fuck."

"Fuck indeed."

This made you both chuckle to yourselves. 

"So what now?" 

This made Richie shrug, "I don't know but, I'm going back again tomorrow and I'll just have to see…

one step at a time." 

Richie wasn't a sap, he knew that. He hated huge displays of affection, greeting cards with cheesy lines, and stickers that were meant to be encouraging but actually seemed condescending. 

So when he randomly blurted out that last part aloud to you, he thought he would grimace the same way he does to sappy things he hates. 

But he didn't. 

It felt right in the moment and judging by the way he noticed your tense frame soften in your seat, it felt right for you too. 

"One step at a time," you repeated, turning to smile softly at him.

Richie sagged in his seat, swallowing the knot in his throat. He hadn’t seen you smile this genuinely since before Mikey’s death. 

That night you laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, doing what you seemed to do best nowadays: thinking. 

So much has changed since you were last here, not only with the places but the people. Yet, you felt the exact same. Cutting your hair, living in a new place, and leaping into the arms of a new person never once changed you. 

But in that brief exchange with Richie before you dropped him off, something inside you changed. You couldn't pinpoint it, no matter how many hours you spent lying awake trying desperately to figure out what it was. 

As scary as it was, it also felt good. It felt warm and soothing and not at all artificial. Not at all like what some words said to you after the funeral services were like.

It was at 5:17 am, in the darkness of your bedroom, that you decided that you would go to The Beef the next day and take it one step at a time.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto imagine #mikey the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie berzatto imagine #richie the bear #richie jerimovich #sugar berzatto #natalie berzatto

[thefanficmonster]

The Bear Masterlist

*- Fluff

⨀ - Angst

Full-length Fics:

Just how fast life changes (Mikey Berzatto x Reader, Carmen Berzatto x Reader) ⨀

Jealousy (Carmen Berzatto x Reader) *

Too Much, Too Late (Michael Berzatto x Reader) ⨀*

Happenstance (Carmen Berzatto x Reader) *

Headcanons:

Carmy x s/o with an ED ⨀*

Relationship dynamic (Carmy x reader) *

Carmy x reader - jealousy headcanons *

Carmen Berzatto relationship headcanons *

#the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #mikey berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #sydney adamu #sydney adamu x reader #sydrichie #sydney x richie #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #x reader #request