#Natalie Berzatto call list | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buggybambi · 10 months ago

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lost in translation | carmen berzatto

you get a job working as a waitress at the bear. if only you knew it would get you here. ─ 3.68k ─ angst and fluff, breakups / fighting, some cursing, reader is younger then carmy.

THE STRANGERS PHASE

The first time you and Carmen met was when Nat and Richie had hired you as part of the Bear staff.

A waitress, and a sweet looking one at that. Younger than him. "You guys finally settled on a candidate?" Carmen asks as Natalie and Richie watch you from the small window in the kitchen.

You sit there for a moment before adjusting the silverware, passing Richie's test almost immediately. "I believe we just did." Nat confirms. Carmen takes a look for himself and swears his heart skips a beat as he watches you for a brief moment before clearing his throat, having to pull himself away. "Okay. Cool." He brushes it off.

He didn't get the chance to meet you right away, not until the night before their soft opening. You'd been through training, getting used to the system at the Bear and getting accompanied with staff. All but one. The head chef and owner, 'Carmy' as everyone called him.

"Hey, you're the new hire, right?" A voice asks as you shut your locker. You jump a bit, as you turn, smiling. "I am." The male nods, holding out his hand. "Sorry about scaring you. I'm Carmen Berzatto, don't think we've had the chance to meet." He introduces.

You accept the handshake, swearing you feel a little spark between you two just from touching him.

───

From there, it was like clockwork. You and him would get stuck closing together, and each night you'd dive into a new part of his past. "So, what made you wanna open this place?" You question. He exhales, momentarily pausing his movements of scrubbing the counters before he sniffles. "My brother left it to me after his death."

You pause, staring at him. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He laughs. "You couldn't have known. It's okay, really. I actually wanted to work here, or what used to be here, for the longest time by his side but he didn't let me. Never knew why. It was the thing he left me in his will." He gives a more in depth answer.

You nod slowly. "I'm sorry about that, Carm. His death and not letting you work here." You specify as you look at him. "If it's any comfort, I think your brother would be really proud of what you've turned this place into." You say.

He nods, sniffling again. You set your rag back in the soapy water, sighing as you mark off your final station to clean on the clipboard.

"See you tomorrow night?" He asks as you begin walking to the lockers.

You smile. "It's a date, chef." You confirm. He blushes at the idea of you and him being on a date.

───

Carmen swore to himself he'd take you on an actual date. The planning was easy, it was actually asking you that he found to be a challenge.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" He asks, trying to sound as casual as he can the next night when you two are closing, which didn't come for almost a week. Though he was grateful, it also felt like torture having to wait to get you alone.

"No, I'm not actually. Chicago hasn't exactly been my Paris, you know? City of love and all that bullshit." You answer as you stare at the chore list for that night. "Check the mayonnaise labels. Does Nat think our mayo is expired?" You question.

“Nat thinks all of our stuff is expired one way or another. It doesn’t expire ‘till the nineteenth of May.” He grabs out a knife to start chopping the vegetables. “Anyway, Chicago isn’t really known for its romance.” He points out.

"So I've been told." You stare at the menu. "What's a vegetable medley?" You question as you look back up at him, catching him staring at you. He clears his throat and quickly sets the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. "Uh, it's a bunch of veggies like green and yellow bell peppers, asparagus and squash topped with balsamic vinegar.” He answers.

You nod slowly. “Only you can explain something like that and make it sound so good right now, Carm.” "Did you eat today?" He doesn't hesitate to ask. "Haven't had a chance to. Richie had me running around all day with the new system, but don't worry, I'm gonna make myself something at home."

"No, come on. I'm- You're not driving home hungry like that. It’s a safety risk. Sit." You go to protest before he repeats himself. "Sit."

The entire night was spent with you and Carmen eating his way too fancy dishes and talking. Sharing memories - childhoods, dreams, stories.

He likes to consider it your first date.

You like to consider it the night you fell in love.

───

You weren't sure what you and Carmen were after that night in the kitchen. Or how to even ask. Do you just come right out and say it? Is there a specific way or time to ask? Google provided zero help, so it was up to you to solve this one.

Maybe that’s what was driving you and Carmy apart for the next week: your mind trying to run through how to even approach that with him. It wasn't until he ambushed you at your locker that you were forced to approach the topic with him. "Not talking to you all week has been driving me insane. Are we okay? If dinner was too much.." He lets his voice trail off.

You smile, as you exhale. "Carmen, I loved dinner. I was just unsure of where we stood. Thought I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out if that was a date or not." You admit. He stares at you, nodding slowly. "Let me take you out to an actual dinner. A real date night." He requests.

You nod. "Okay, I'd like that." You barely have another chance to speak before Richie's calling your name. You place a hand on Carmen's shoulder as you pass him, giving him a small smile before you rush to find out what Richie needs you for.

Carmen watches you leave, wishing you'd come back to him.

Carmen had thought of your date night perfectly. A romantic, rooftop dinner overlooking Chicago’s nighttime streets. “You bring all the girls up to your rooftop, Berzatto?” You question as you stare at the cars passing by.

“Only the special ones.” He’d answer with a grin.

You wished he kissed you that night, but he didn’t. Instead he settled for dropping you off at your apartment before leaving. You could tell he wanted to kiss you, too, but he wanted to wait.

"So, you and Carmen?" Sydney asks as you help her open the Bear that morning, cutting vegetables up with her. You sigh, a smile on your face regardless. "How'd you hear about that?" You question in return.

“It’s the Bear. There’s no such thing called secrets when you work here. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Now, you and Carmy?” She asks again as you laugh. “There’s nothing going on between us. He and I got dinner a few times, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” You say with a shrug.

She stares at you, noticing the blush in your cheeks. You grin. “Don’t even. Nothing has happened between us.” You reiterate. She laughs, grabbing her bucket of vegetables. "Whatever you say!"

You roll your eyes, turning and staring at Carmen in the doorway. There he goes again, staring at you when you aren't looking. It doesn't slide past you that he has a noticeable sparkle in his eyes.

───

Of course the universe would have it out for you and Carmen to close together that night. As you two stand over the counters, cleaning them down, you decide to ask the question that had been plaguing your mind.

"What are you and I?" You ask, looking up at him for the first time. His scrubbing stops, as he looks back at you. "I want us to be together." He answers honestly, and you're a bit taken back by his honesty.

“You seem like you’ve thought about this.”

“More than you know.” Translation: I’ve thought about you.

You nod slowly as you walk over to the sink, beginning to wash your hands. "I want us to be together, too. I just don't want this to be weird between us because we work together, you know." You voice your concerns as you grab the towel, drying your hands.

You turn, finding him standing behind you. "I don't care if we want us to be together. I want us to give.. us.. a chance." He says, taking your hand in his. You stare at your hands interlocked as you hum. "Carmen."

"Yes?" He asks softly.

"If you don't kiss me right now I might just walk out and not come back." You tease.

He doesn't have to be told twice, and he kisses you like he's been thinking about it. Like he's been needing that. Hands cupping your face, yours finding his waist.

You didn't need much of an answer as to what you and Carmen were after that.

THE LOVERS PHASE

You and Carmen had agreed: the staff didn’t need to know you two were officially dating. If it was important enough to share, sure. But other then that, you two wouldn’t go around publicly announcing it.

Turns out, dating Carmen wasn't much different from being friends with him. Except now you were in the kitchen at two in the morning, slow dancing with him.

It'd started with dinner that night. Him holding you from behind,

Frank Sinatra plays lowly on the radio as he spins you around, with you grinning as you sway with him. “Who taught you to dance, Berzatto?” You question.

“Nat did. Taught me for her wedding. Said if I looked like a fish outta water she’d ban me from the reception.” He answers with a lovesick grin. You laugh, throwing your head back. “Sounds like Nat.”

He smirks. “And who taught you?” He asks in return. You hum as he pulls you closer to his chest, as Sinatra’s ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ plays. “I did. Convinced myself when I was a little girl I'd be like Misty Copeland.” You answer.

He grins. Only two weeks had gone by with him being officially yours, and he was falling in love with you. Maybe that’s why it spilled out as he held you close.

“I love you.” His voice is hushed.

You pulled away only a bit to look at his eyes. Maybe searching to see if they were genuine, if he said what you think he did. "Carmen..." You smile, a laugh coming out. "I love you, too." You repeat it back to him.

"Take the too out. Makes it sound like you're just agreeing." He requests softly, lips brushing barely against yours. You giggle at his plea, but comply anyway. "Carmen, I love you." You say it again, this time it feels more real.

Two weeks in, and you two are in love. If you knew any better, you'd assume you were screwed.

───

"What do you wanna do with your life?" The question startled you as you and Carmen sat on the balcony of your apartment, overlooking downtown Chicago. Buildings illuminating the night sky, car horns blaring every few minutes from the nighttime traffic.

"I wanna open a bar. Maybe go to Los Angeles or New York, just open my own place. You know?" You hold your knees up on the patio chair with you, a cup of tea in hand. "Some dive bar but... fancier. Live music, live entertainment."

He nods slowly, grabbing out his notepad. "Get out of Chicago?" He asks. You laugh. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong, I love this city. This just.. isn't the plan." You say with a shrug.

"Mm." He says, scribbling something down on the paper. You lean over, staring at it. "What are you drawing, Berzatto?" You question. "Nothin'. It's a surprise, if I show you it now it won't be a surprise." He points out.

You grin as you lean your head back. "Okay. What about you? Is the Bear your final dream?" You question, still looking over at him. He sets the pen down, looking over the skyline. "I don't know. Though until I met you I had all my dreams and goals figured out."

"Don't say it-"

"You're my new dream." He grins, looking over at you. You laugh, rolling your eyes. "That was unbelievably cheesy, Berzatto. I don't know if I can ever look at you the same after that." You tease.

"You don't have to look at me to kiss me." He points out as you roll your eyes, standing up. You give him a quick peck as you open the door, stepping halfway inside. "Don't take too long getting to bed, okay? It's cold out here." You comment.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He waits until you're fully inside to pull back out the notepad. Sketched on is a logo for a bar, your bar. Your name written in what he imagines is neon lights. 'ANGEL'S BAR'. The way he views you, an angel. His angel.

He hums, standing up and making his way inside, the notepad tucked under his arm. He finds you in the living room, sorting through the mail. “Hey, hey, my old college roommate’s getting married. New York. What a terrifying city.” You laugh as you set the invite down, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you down to the bedroom.

───

Carmen had spent so much time in your apartment that it practically felt like his own. So, the idea of asking him to move in wasn’t totally crazy. His clothes were now hung up in your closet, his cologne and cedarwood soap lingered.

Your relationship with Carmen had grown, so much so that you were now spending time with his family. You stood in the kitchen of the Berzatto home. Your first family dinner with them, and it had been more drama filled then a soap opera. Soft music filled the room, cinnamon roll scented candles lit making the house smell like a bakery. Your scarf hung on the staircase banister.

"First official Berzatto dinner. How ya holdin’ up?" Sugar asks as she slides beside you, handing you a glass of wine to match her own. "Oh you know me so well. It's going.. as good as I expected it to be. Are they always this chaotic?" You question.

"Hell yes. The Berzatto family has never been calm, y'know?" She laughs. "But you seem to be fitting in nicely. And this is the first year of us doing one of these that Carmen truly seems happy, I think you're to thank for that."

You grin. "Well, as long as he's smiling." You and her watch him in the living room, chasing down the younger family members, laughing as they tackle him down to the floor.

"Yeah, well, I've seen Carmen with other girls before, and none of them have made him this happy. So, on behalf of the Berzatto family, thanks for bringing us a smiling Carmy." She raises her glass to you as you laugh, lifting yours as well.

Carmen watches as you clink glasses with Nat as he enters the kitchen. "You two doing good in here?" He asks. "Oh, we are doing wonderful. I should go find my husband." Nat says, smiling and walking out of the kitchen.

You sigh, setting your wine glass down behind you on the counter. "Hi." He greets, arms wrapped around your waist. You hum, wrapping yours around his neck. "Hey you." You reply, pressing your lips against his.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” He says quietly after he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

You smile, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad too, Carm.”

───

Arguments in relationships are common. They’re healthy, they bring growth. You and Carmen had a fair share of disagreements but never ones where he called you the name he did tonight: clingy.

“Can you just fucking leave me be for a second?! I don’t need you crowding me and being so- so fucking clingy.” Right in the office of the Bear, as you made sure he understood what was happening with Syd’s plans.

Now here you were, in Nat’s living room. “He probably didn’t mean it, you know?” She asks softly as she pushes some of your hair out of your face, wiping tears that fall down your cheeks. “I think he’s just been so worried about our mom, her issues and the Bear.”

“What if he did mean it though? What if.. What if he was just with me out of convenience or pity?” You voice your worries. She shakes her head. “I have never seen Carmy as happy anywhere else as he is with you. He loves you, Y/n. He wants to be with you, no one else.” She replies.

“You don’t call the people you love clingy.” You point out. She sighs, letting you lay your head on her shoulder. No matter what she said, nothing changed how you felt. Carmen thought you were clingy. Whether subconsciously or not, he thought it.

The thought made your heart ache.

───

You were younger than Carmen, you knew that much from the moment you met him. But it had never been an issue in your relationship, until now it seems. A simple, offhand comment about kids and marriage you had made to Syd. You wanted those things, and you wanted them with Carmy.

That’s what landed you in this position on a cold night, with him sitting on the armchair in front of you and you on the floor, crouched to try and read his eyes. Find any sign that you could get past this.

“We’re just on different paths. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get this close to you. And I should have stopped myself before I hurt you.” Translation: you’re still young and I can’t hold you back.

He didn’t stay after that. His clothes still hung in your closet, with you on the floor of the living room.

Translation: what now?

THE ENEMIES STAGE

“So, plans for you being in New York?” Diane asks as you and her sit on the rooftop of her apartment building. You sigh, as you lean back on your chair. “Drink a lot. Forget my relationship problems in Chicago and hope for the best.” You answer with a nod.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You can’t expect to fix your relationship in different states without talking.” She points out as you look over at her. “When did I hire you as a relationship therapist?” You tease. “Carm and I will be fine.”

You couldn’t find the translation anymore for what “fine” meant.

──��

The wedding was gorgeous. Diane looked stunning and her husband was the sweetest man. The sun was setting over Manhattan, as you sat at the open bar perched on the rooftop. Staring at the missed call from a familiar contact: ‘Chef’s Kiss’. Carmy.

Maybe you had asked him for too much. Wanting kids, marriage. He’d give them to you if you asked, you knew that. But the idea of him just putting up with that just to keep you?

You didn’t return his call or any of his texts. Instead, you kept quiet until you returned to Chicago a week later. A box perched on your apartment doorstep with your belongings. Jewelry, shirts you left at his place. All of them except for the scarf that still sat on Donna’s staircase banister.

Maybe he kept it because it smells like you. Or because it reminded him of something pure. The one thing he really knew was now gone, and the scarf was a fragment of that.

───

It didn’t shock any of the staff at the Bear when you turned in your notice and stopped working there. Or when you took the couch you and Carmy used to sit on during late night conversations and moved it eleven hours with you to New York. Along with his hoodies, the one you wanted to keep most because it smelled like him still.

You didn’t delete the videos or photos you had with him. It feels too real if you do.

You stared at the kitchen. Where he used to hold you, scolding you for how you handled knives. The balcony, where he told you that you were his new dream. The living room where he’d kiss you like it was the first time. The bedroom, where some nights, he made you his own, and others he held you while you slept.

The only thing you found in the apartment that was foreign to you? A piece of notepad paper, with “ANGEL’S BAR” drawn on the front. You stuck that in your pocket as you made your way to your car.

It hurts to look at. It hurts to think about him.

Now it’s just you, in your hundred square foot apartment that you share with a roommate now. You manage to delete the playlist of songs that he loved swaying with you to in early mornings in kitchen lights. You learn his favorite melody by heart: stranger, to lovers, to enemies.

───

Closing that chapter of your life, you focused more on opening Angel’s Bar. His logo on the front, in downtown New York. Soft piano playing as chatter fills the room, drinks being poured in the corners.

It may have just been Carmen’s luck to find you on opening night, chatting around with the customers as he watched from the window, a familiar red scarf wrapped around his neck to help fight the cold air.

Translation: it reminds him of innocence. It reminds him of the better part of himself, the one you brought out in him.

Carmen learned to take lessons from break-ups pretty early on into his life. The one he got from you?

“Falling in love isn't for the weak. So don't try it at home.” He closes the book that he was given as an assignment for his AA class.

Maybe you were his favorite melody after all.

𓍢ִ໋🔪 ♡₊˚ 🧣・₊✧

shine on, shine on, my loves!

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my carmen berzatto masterlist here for more fanfics!

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@wabi-sabi1090

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- mae

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laiiaaa · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

“Carm, I’m serious—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where’s his fuckin’ kid?

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

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

“Well, hello,” you start.

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

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

“I’m here with my daddy.”

“Yeah? Where’s he at?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Sofia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where does she work?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You heard me.”

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

You smile at her. “Yes way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, me too—”

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

“Right, right, of course—”

“And they need me at the—”

“Same here, I need to, uh—”

“Right, yeah, so um—”

“Yeah—”

“I guess I should—”

“Probably—”

“And, uh—…”

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

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

You offer a softened smile. “Guess so.”

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

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

But there’s just something about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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levanterhaze · 1 year ago

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✧ LOVE ME AGAIN WITH CARMY BERZATTO

→ carmy berzatto x reader

→ you and carmy have always had a volatile relationship, and when you decide to break up for good, things seem to take a turn for the worst. carmy misses you and you miss him. everything could change when the bear opens.

→ warning: anxiety, angst, some signs of depression, light smut nothing to worry about

→ 4kish

Your relationship with Carmy was always going to be stormy.

While your friends spent their Valentine's Day in fancy restaurants and luxurious hotels, your Valentine's Day was depressing and lonely with a meaningless box of take-out and too much cheap wine. And then the next day was even worse. The regret and bitterness. The anguish and the fear of losing you, it all came at once, and you could feel Carmy slipping through your fingers like sand, fast and at great cost.

And it wasn't as if he didn't care. You lived in Carmy Berzatto's mind twenty-four hours a day. You'd still be there if the days had more hours. He had too much feeling and not enough showing. And that killed him a bit every day. For it was you. You who comforted him after Mikey's death, you who bandaged all his cut fingers after a grueling day at The Beef. It was you, who watched him take over a new restaurant and start all over again.

You were there and Carmy hated himself for not being able to do the same.

There were times when he was lost in his own head. Fear ate him from within and breathing seemed almost impossible. There were countless times when you received messages from Sydney or even Natalie, when he accepted that he was in need of something, someone. From you. And it was never easy, because he made everything so difficult for himself. He did not want to involve you in the vortex of anxious thoughts that were occupying his mind. He didn't want to drag you into the personal hell that his mind had concocted.

But pushing you away was tantamount to losing you. And for Carmy, it was only a matter of time. Just as the sky is blue and water is liquid and so on, losing you was inescapable. One day it would happen. He didn't know when, but predicting the worst had been a common part of his life.

Then you hoped he would be there on one of the most important nights of your life. You had worked long and hard, and all your family and friends were coming to see the hard work you put into your art. You were happy in spite of everything. It had always been your dream to be recognized for your art, and to see the people you love the most recognizing it, honoring you for it, was priceless.

You kept glancing at the gallery door, waiting for Carmy to appear before you like a perfect dream come true. And with each passing second, it was clear to you that this was not the case. Almost twenty calls and thirty texts and no answer. At this point, you had no interest in the question of where he might be.

And somehow you could understand Carmy's busy and chaotic life. He had too many responsibilities, his mind was like an endless to-do list, and things just kept popping up, even more so after The Bear situation. But the selfish and unselfish part of your twisted mind wanted him to be there, to make time in his evening to be with you. After all, what was important to him was important to you as well. But often it didn't seem that way. And that was hard to deal with.

You heard the door of the small apartment you shared open just after two in the morning. It was dark. Only the lamp was on, which made for a calm atmosphere despite the usual tension in the house. And as soon as he entered the room and saw a suitcase packed at the foot of the bed, you could see the mixture of awe and panic on Carmy's face.

For a few seconds, he just stood there like that. Just standin' there. Blue eyes fading in something you no longer recognized. The distance between the two of you was almost palpable. Your heart crushed in your chest, shattering into a thousand little pieces.

Carmy lowered his head with a sense of defeat. The day he had been dreading had come, and he felt nothing but stupid and incompetent for allowing it to happen, even though he knew it was going to happen. The trembling in his hands was real, and he had to hide them behind the rest of his body so that they wouldn't be noticed.

"I'm sorry." It was the sound of his voice, almost in tatters, that did your heart in.

Carmy looked at you, shaking hands through his disheveled hair. This isn’t something he wanted to say goodbye to. What he had with you was the most beautiful part of his life. To lose you is to lose everything. And he didn't want to lose it all.

One tear ran down your cheek. You wiped it away before a single tear could turn into a few. You wouldn't know how to stop if you dared to cry now.

You said, "There are some leftovers from the dinner in the oven. I've sorted out your last few bills so you can get organized without having to worry, and..."

"I'm so sorry."

"...and the key is where it should be. If there is anything you need, Carmen, you can give me a call and..."

"No. No. I'm sorry."

The realization hit Carmy as hard as rock. He was on his knees in front of you. Feeling his hands around your wrists, you closed your eyes. There was something familiar and cruel about the calluses and the way his thumb brushed the inside of your arm.

You were so much in love with him that it hurt. Loving him like that, it hurt physically.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to be better. I'll get better, I'll focus on the things that matter and... I swear. I promise you, just... Please." His voice was like knives. They cut deeply and hurt.

You gulped, trying to escape the ocean of blue before them. There was so much pain in Carmy's eyes that all you wanted to do was hug him, take care of him and tell him that everything would be okay. But this cycle had to end, and you'd done it countless times.

You tried to get up from your shared bed, but Carmy stopped you. "Carm." You whispered in an attempt to get him to stop.

"Please." He whispered back.

"It's not working. You know I... I can't."

"I fucking love you. You're... I..." Carmy sighed and moved away, sitting down on the carpet a few steps away.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he couldn't. Carmy had the feeling that the floor was opening up and his body was being dragged into this black hole. His heart was beating so fast. He thought it would explode out of his chest. If he was the reason you were leaving, how could he beg you to stay?

And he knew it. He had been reading the signs. All the times he'd been late, even when you'd agreed to go out to eat together. All the dates he didn't show up for. The anniversary that hadn't worked out. That trip to Europe. All the things that piled up. He knew it, and he was there, and he was letting it happen.

But at the same time, he knew that you deserved better than that. You deserve someone who would give you time and love. Who would be there every day. Who would learn to love you the way you deserved. The love he felt for you was far greater than he was able to express, but that would have been egotistical of him.

Sometimes love is not enough. You have been the living proof of that.

"Carm. Look at me."

You knelt before him. He touched your hands once more, which were now touching his damp face. The last thing he would remember, besides your watery eyes, would be the scent of pear and vanilla that permeated your sweater.

"You'll be fine. I hope you're fucking happy and that all your hard work pays off. I'm your biggest fan. You know that, right?" You tried to put on a smile but failed miserably. "Carmen Berzatto, I will always support you.”

Everything I've achieved is meaningless without you, Carmy wanted to say, but couldn't.

Only your ragged breath broke the cruel, melancholy silence.

You wiped your face and got to your feet, ready to leave. Ready to leave behind all of the memories that you had with the man that you loved the most.

Before you left, Carmy looked at you and said, "All those things, they were true. They were real."

You understood his meaning and agreed with a nod of your head.

And so it was only at 2:47 a.m. when you finally left the apartment, that you allowed yourself a good cry.

It had been two months since you and Carmy had broken up. You hadn't heard from him since.

The only close contact you had with Carmy was Sydney, but you had been clear when you mentioned that she could only talk about him if it was something urgent. And nothing urgent had come up in two months.

You missed him, you couldn't deny it. Life was hell with him gone. Despite all that was bad and rotten, Carmy was kind, gentle, chivalrous, and cared about your feelings. You missed all the mundane things, even the times you ate packs of cheese balls while watching a movie, just waiting for the part where his hand would accidentally slip up your thigh and the movie session would turn into a making out session.

You tried to move on, except for the significant absence of him in your life. Grocery shopping was no longer the same. No cashew juice or fancy, barely pronounceable fruit and spice names. Just the usual bland basics. Maybe that was what it was like to live without Berzatto.

It was a rainy Tuesday, one of those Tuesdays when you just wanted to stay in and not have to deal with any obligations. You were one of the unfortunate ones who had to deal with adult life and buy parmesan cheese because your sister was the only one who could make macaroni and cheese worth eating. There was a place you only knew about thanks to Carmy that sold quality products.

The rain had made your hair wet, and the guard at the small market smiled sympathetically when he saw the miserable situation you found yourself in. You nearly laughed at yourself. Basket in hand, you wandered the aisles singing a pop song from the radio. Your eyes scanned the perimeter of the dairy aisle, and with your finger, you tried to select the best product.

Parmesan, in hand, you froze to the floor. The voice in the back of your head was so familiar, so ghostly, that it made you turn around in a hurry.

And there he stood. In the white shirt and the tattered jeans. His sandy hair so tousled that you felt your hand involuntarily clench in the desire to touch him, to feel his softness. You thought about calling him up, to say hi. The question in your mind was whether it would be too weird. Or perhaps not.

A woman with dark hair and sky blue eyes walked up to him, leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Both of them laughed. You felt your heart sink.

Carmy turned around, a small smile on his face, and when you least expected it... they were kissing.

You felt as if time stopped running. That millisecond was etched in time. You could hear the gasping breath tearing at your chest, the tears gathering at the waterline, and your heart crashing again, for the same person.

"What are you doing? It's like you went to make that damned Parmesan, and I had to check to see if anything was wrong..." As your vision blurred, your sister's voice echoed in the back of your mind.

"Let's get out of here."

"What happened?" She tried to get you to look at her, but you just kept pushing her toward the marketplace.

"Let's take it somewhere else."

"But you said..."

"I'm aware of my words. Now let's just go."

As you dragged your sister down the aisle, Carmy could have sworn he heard something that sounded like you. But he couldn't really be a judge of his own conscience. Unable to tell what was real and what was not, he had been hallucinating for days. He would hear your voice and swear that he saw you somewhere, only to not be able to see you there.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked with a light squeeze of his hand.

"Yes, of course. Let's get going?" Carmy said, forcing a smile. Claire agreed and gave him a kiss again.

Carmen didn't want to relive ghosts from the past, no matter what had happened.

A week later, Sydney and Sugar had a text message that The Bear was finally open for business. The first night they were only opening for friends and family. They insisted that you should come. That it was important not only to themselves but also to Carmy.

You weren't sure about that. You had no idea what to do when you got there, because your presence could mean so many things. And despite everything, there was the news that still lingered in your mind: Carmy had met somebody.

Selfishness wasn't for you. You didn't want his eternal devotion. After all, you had put an end to the relationship. But when it came to him, that little feeling of envy and jealousy still existed. Because in spite of it all, you never stopped loving him.

"Well, you know what? Fuck it."

You yell at the top of your lungs before you start rummaging through your closet until you find the perfect dress to wear.

You once told Carmy that you would always be his biggest supporter and that you would always be true to your word.

You were greeted by Sugar. She looked gorgeous with her pregnant belly and a radiant smile when she saw you.

She said, "I can't believe you came!" She hugged you in a consoling way that only the Berzatto's could do. "You look so beautiful, honey."

"Nah. This is beautiful." You point to the room. "Look at you, Sug!"

"Come on. I'll show you your table." Sugar made her way among the tables. They were already crowded with familiar faces.

You looked amazed. "I'm seated?"

"Of course, dummy. You're one of us. I hope being away hasn't made you forget that."

You hugged her once more. Then you sat down at a small table with your name on it.

"Make yourself at home. We'll serve you soon."

"Thank you, Sug."

Fak almost kicked in the door, breathless. Sydney gave him an annoyed look as she tried to shake off so many orders in front of her, then whispered, "What the hell, Fak."

"She's here."

"Who's here?" Carmy asked, not even bothering to look at Fakerson.

"Your girl." Fak said smiling. "I mean, your ex-girl...?"

"Claire's here?" Sydney said, confused.

"Claire is here?" Carmy looked at him, completely taken aback.

"Why would Claire be here? I thought you guys broke up." Richie shot back before leaving the kitchen.

"Thanks, cousin." Carmy said, noticeably irritated.

"I thought it was obvious they broke up." Sydney grimaced.

"Guys?" Losing a little patience, Carmy put his hands on his waist.

"Wait. You and Claire broke up? Uh, Jeff..." Tina came over to Carmy's station with a pair of frying pans.

"Chefs! Appreciate the interest in my love life. Now, focus, please!" Carmy shouted. Everyone scattered to their stations. "Fak, who the fuck is out there?"

Fak started to speak, but before he could finish what he wanted to say, Richie appeared, wide-eyed.

"She's here."

And Carmy felt his whole body fall numb before he could even understand. It wasn't Claire. The last time they saw each other, she had made it clear that she didn't want any kind of involvement if he still had someone else on his mind.

And from Richie's smile, that could only mean one thing.

Carmy Berzatto was fucked.

Ten minutes had passed and Carmy had already cut his finger twice and almost burned the salmon. His mind was on the small pane of glass that was the partition between the salon and the kitchen.

You, sitting alone at a table, so beautiful and angelical that he felt his chest ache. And he couldn't tell if it was the black turtleneck dress, or your hair, or the red lipstick that outlined every curve of your mouth.

Carmy was at a loss. To bring him back to reality, Sydney had to yell at him five times. There was a kitchen to run and many dishes to do.

Richie appeared at your table from time to time. First it was with your favorite wine. Then with your main course, because you hated appetizers and you were sure it was a Carmy thing. Pork burger with gravy and tomato salad with red onion and Diet Coke. Carmy's first meal when you started dating, right in The Beef's old kitchen. He fed you. Then you had the most intense sex in his office.

Carmy knew what he was doing when he used food to bring back memories. So do you.

Sugar appeared again after dessert: pineapple ice cream with blackberries and wine. The restaurant was already very empty, only three tables were occupied, one of them being Sydney's relatives and Natalie's husband.

"Hey. So I had a talk with Carmy and he asked me if you could stay a bit longer..."

"I'm not sure."

"He wants to talk to you."

You had no idea what would come out of this conversation. What you had seen weeks ago still hurt. Talking might hurt you both more.

"Sug, I don't know..."

"Look, I get it. I really do. I'm not just saying this because I care about him. I know he has a lot of feelings for you. I saw how bad he was after you broke up, honey. I don't know what came of it, but... If you still care about Carm, please. I beg you. Talk to him, will you?"

It took a couple of seconds and Natalie was starting to think that you were going to get up and walk away.

"All right, then. I'm waiting."

"Good night, Chef!" Sydney was the last one out the backdoor.

Carmy leaned against the counter and ran his hand over his face. What was he thinking when he asked you to stay?

Now he could see the empty lounge. You sitting there, sipping your last glass of wine. Natalie, afraid of something worse, looked at your table and the kitchen every five seconds.

It was after one in the morning. You were impatient. Fear was eating you alive.

You stood up from the table and patiently walked over to Natalie. "May I go now?"

"He's in there. I'm leaving. Pete's waiting for me outside. Honey... Thank you for your patience. If you need anything, call me. Nice seeing you."

You said goodbye in a hug. "So do I, Nat. Thank you so much for everything."

It was only when you turned to the kitchen door and saw his silhouette inside, waiting for you, that you realized you were alone with Carmy. As you walked slowly, you gathered your thoughts.

Just as you opened the door, Carmen turned around. And by God... you couldn't look more beautiful. Your wine red cheeks contrasted with your red lips and it was driving him insane.

"Hey, Carm." Your voice struggled to come out. Carmy almost broke into a smile when he heard it.

"Hey." He whispered. "Thanks for coming."

"You know I wouldn't miss it. I'm happy for you guys. This place... It's beautiful, Carmy. What you've done to this place... It's just incredible."

"I wish I could have shown it to you sooner, but... Yeah." An awkward smile and a scratch at the back of his head. "Thank you."

You bit your lip, worried. "Did you want to... talk?"

"Yes. I, um, do. I don't really know what... I just... I wanted to see you." He agreed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. I guess."

"Berzatto, history is history."

"No, it isn't." In denial, he took a step closer to you. "If history is history, then why don't I stop thinking about you?"

He had you by surprise. "Carmy."

"I mean it. None of it matters. Why... You're the only person who knows my heart by heart. You're my only true opener. And I know, I know I've failed you a thousand times and you probably deserve a luckier jerk than me."

Carmy felt overwhelmed. Exhausted.

"I love you. I love you so much that it scares me because I've never felt shit like this for anyone, you know? This feeling that suffocates and eats you alive, this shit scares me. And I know I'm a fucking psycho, but that's who I am, and I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I just... Fuck!"

He sniffled. He was trying to get rid of his watery eyes and all the humiliation that came with them.

You were in sheer shock. Carmy had never been so vulnerable as now and the whole situation was startling and unfamiliar to you.

"That's pathetic. I'm sorry." Disguising his shame with self-deprecation, he tried to laugh it off.

"Carmy." You took a step back, getting close enough to see how flushed he was. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this stuff before?"

"Because I was scared. When something good happens to me..."

"You have an automatic assumption of the worst."

He agrees and looks down. You sigh and look at the countertop where his hands are. Exposed tattoos, each screaming for your silent touch.

"If all of this is real. Then why were you kissing her?"

"Claire?" He seemed surprised you knew her. "It didn't last. I don't know... I don't know what the hell I was thinking. In fact, I have a pretty good idea where my thoughts were. It just wasn't about her."

"Carm." You whispered, fingering his hand. "I don't care about the vanity. I just want to know if it's for real. If everything you've said is true."

Carmy felt his heart explode in her chest. Like a rough sea, his eyes watered. He took your hand and held it as he took one last step. The last step for the two of you to merge into one. Like a trap, his lips captured yours. Carmy was beastly, wild, desperate. There was an eagerness in his touch, and in the way that his lips moved around yours.

One of his hands went straight to your neck, gripping it tightly, while the other squeezed the skin around your waist. As he pressed you against the bench, deepening the kiss and moving your head as he pleased, a gasp escaped your lips. You were breathless. You felt narcotized by the longing for him again.

And it wasn't just a physical need. It was a lust for the meeting of souls.

"Is this real enough for you?" Carmy said after the kiss, sucking your lip and making sure you looked deep into his eyes.

You kissed him again with no time to lose. This time you made your way through the kitchen, knocking over utensils and pans along the way until you found your way to the office. Carmy rushed to close it, barely breathing.

Once again, he pinned you against the wall and held your wrists so that you wouldn't be able to escape even for a second. His lips explored your skin, every inch of it, so that you would never forget the taste. He wanted to carve his name into your skin, to worship you, to be devoted to your body and your love forever.

He had never felt anything so intense, and as frightening as it was, it was wonderful.

"Carmy." You whimpered as you felt his hands on your skin, on sensitive spots that made your eyes roll back.

"For old times' sake?"

"For old times' sake."

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy imagines #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear hulu #the bear imagines #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto angst #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto smut #the bear fx

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scenedenial · 10 months ago

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Sydney Adamu/Richie Jerimovich

i’ll sleep in the rain under your headlights -> 6,407 words “Wow, Richie, that’s so charming. You’re so fucking charming.” “Yeah, sweetheart, you could learn something.” Richie cups her chin in his palm, swipes drool off her mouth. Sydney’s chest squeezes. “Don’t call me sweetheart.” “Sweetheart. Are you gonna bitch at me or are you gonna suck my cock?” i can take you higher -> 11,278 words “You want one, right?” “A star? I mean, yeah. Who doesn’t?” “I think we could do it,” Richie says, pacing the kitchen. “But Carmy —” “Yo, fuck Carmy. I’m saying you and me could do it.” Richie is a different person now. Sydney makes him want to be a different person: a better person. and you’ll feel it all over -> 1,717 words If Sydney was going to have a baby it would not be with Richie Jerimovich. So why can’t she stop thinking about it? i wanna start over, i wanna be winning (slow show part 1) -> 7,427 words “I’m not going to Vegas,” Sydney says again. “I actually cannot think of anything worse than being in Vegas right now.” “Um, I can,” Nat says, doing her bra back up. “Being here. C’mon, it’ll be good for you. Change of scenery.” “I don’t want a change of —” “If you won’t do it for you,” Nat cuts her off, “then do it for me. I need this. Look at me. Look at these fucking sandbags attached to my body. We’ll make it an, I don’t know, anti-bachelorette. Okay?” Natalie is giving her these big begging eyes and Sydney can feel her resolve to soldier on as the world’s most resigned jilted-bride-turned-interim-executive-chef weaken and crack. “Fine. Fine. But you’re buying my drinks. And you better cancel the fucking strippers.” you know i dreamed about you, i missed you (slow show part 2) -> WIP Sydney is still at The Bear because leaving would be losing, would be admitting defeat, would be giving Carmy the easy out. You fucked up my whole life but, okay, let me be the bigger person, let me make your life easier, sure, fine, okay. He can’t do this and not lose anything. He can’t do this and go back to how things used to be. She won’t let him. you never use words you can’t afford -> 1,923 words Richie knows she would never admit it to herself, let alone to him, because it’s totally antithetical to the carefully constructed independent woman take no prisoners masterchef girlboss extraordinaire thing she has going on, but Sydney fucking lives to be told she’s doing a good job. She fucking gets off on it.

Carmy Berzatto/Richie Jerimovich

i put my hand over the stove to make sure i still feel it -> 5,240 words Richie shrugs, paws at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He feels suddenly very fragile, like unstable, like a bomb. Like he could start crying or puking or throwing punches. He remembers this feeling from childhood, like a dam somewhere inside him has broken and if he stands very still that maybe, maybe he can keep the churning contained. Since Mikey left it’s been worse. The pit in his stomach gnawing and expanding and spreading like sour poison into his mouth and fingertips. Mouth and hands that he puts on, in Carmy. Infecting him too. coming clean on a borrowed floor -> 1,796 words Carmen pretends like he’s so fucking complicated with the secretive little notebooks, the rippling muscles, the big sad blue eyes, but Richie knows him – Richie has always known him – so he gets a fist twisted into Carmy’s hair and presses his cheek into the tile and makes it easy. weren’t we the salt in the sea? -> WIP It’s the worst possible thing, especially here and now, walking in the ghost of Mikey’s footsteps, seeing him everywhere, feeling him everywhere. The prodigal baby brother, home at last, playing the role but in no way filling it. Carmy’s presence here only makes Mikey’s absence clearer. He knows it; everybody knows it. It’s all Carmy should be thinking about. It’s all any sane person would be thinking about. Instead, he watches a bead of sweat snake down the back of Richie’s neck as he pulls up disintegrating tile in the bathroom of the restaurant.

Other

i would shovel the worms that inhabit your brain: Carmy Berzatto/Sydney Adamu/Richie Jerimovich -> 10,845 words It’s not that Richie doesn’t like Sydney. She’s pretty and mean and she can clearly cook her ass off. She’s exactly the kind of woman he goes for: smart mouth, long hair, homicidal tendencies. She’s a little young, but other than that, yeah. Richie could like her. The issue is that Carmen acts ridiculous around her. Her first day, him trailing her around the kitchen like a dementedly friendly shadow: here’s the dish pit, here’s the spice rack, stay away from Richie, hardee-har-har. Whatever, Carmy, Richie thinks, it’s not like you had my dick in your throat twelve hours ago. Oh, wait.

#my writing #sydrichie #carmrich #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction

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blackjack-15 · 11 months ago

Text

gary dropping the sign oh my land THE BEAR IS A COMEDY

the pans all being burned after the fire with carmy? love to see it

the nice post-blow-up with richie and syd awkwardness? i'm sensing a beautiful partnership by the end of the season

"i thought i wanted it, but then i wanted to throw up" PREGNANT CALLING IT NOW and now i'm thinking interplay of life and death and i'm worried for marcus' mama (?) all over again

"that can't possibly be true. okay that's probably true" THE BEAR IS A COMEDY

carmy trying to protect natalie from The Bear knowing how much she hated The Beef??? he's such a good boy i love him so much

"sydney asked me to be project manager." "really? that's interesting. what did you say." slow integration of syd into the berzattos.....inchresting

carmy teasing natalie is lovely -- when carmy's not alone (and not feeling like he's alone, more importantly), he's a lot more...not relaxed, but maybe human? human is the word i want

"what's going on?" "oh, you're not gonna like it" "awesome" they're really cute and i ship them, there it is

carmy and nat's immediate worry when syd falls through is cute. she's family now i've decided

"i fell through a wall. good morning" THE BEAR IS A COMEDY

richie this explanation is getting worse. i love that he's got a List of things not to say, a la the douchebag jar

carmy's total lack of surprise hearing about Mikey trying to commit insurance fraud is both funny and heartbreaking

also calling it now passing any fire-related tests is gonna be Rough

carmy repeating to syd what she was saying?? staring after her as she leaves??? i'm dying we're not getting crumbs they're feeding me petit-fours

"keep thinking about [the project manager position]" carmy's asking for help!! he doesn't want her to do it if it'll hurt her, but he knows they need help

*alarm blaring* "is that in my head?" *nat winces* "no" baby boy you are Not healthy but like the bear is a comedy

#the bear #liveblogging #2X01 #i'm sorry it's taking me so long people are TALKING TO ME and i keep replaying sydcarmy stuffs #the latter is costing me more time than the former but like #i am who i am

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let-it-rip-bear · 2 years ago

Note

Any fic recs? :)

oh yes

an unorganized list of The Bear fic recs; most are gen just cuz im not a big shipper

nighthawks (5131 words) by arbitrarily Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sydney Adamu & Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Marcus (The Bear TV 2022), Neil Fak, Tina (The Bear TV 2022), Gary "Sweeps" Woods Additional Tags: Character Study, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Season/Series 01, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death, Unresolved Romantic Tension Summary:

The work continues; the work begins.

Sunday Special (2073 words) by LearnedFoot Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sydney Adamu & Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu & Richard "Richie" Jerimovich Characters: Sydney Adamu, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich Additional Tags: other characters make appearances too, Friendship, Found Family, Christmas, Post-Canon Summary:

The Bear stays open for Christmas.

the trap (5957 words) by bartonbones (@bartonbones) Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, NYC Chef Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, a meager attempt to supply some h/c in this ao3 tag bc im getting desperate, Minor Injuries, Verbal Abuse, im legally required to tell you to not do the first aid depicted in this fanfiction, One Shot Summary:

You need to fucking be better at this, Chef says.

Yes, chef, he says.

Get better at this.

Yes, chef.

Calling out orders. Hands. Plating with tweezers and holding his breath. Wiping plates. It’s funny because before this, he’d think that it's a mistake you’d only make one time. He’d think getting shoved and screamed at and sent home to shake apart and wonder if you’re wasting years on your life on a thing you fucking suck at would be enough to remind you not to forget to wipe a plate again, but the truth is that it’s not, that nothing is, the truth is that it’s a fucking trap. He’s always going to forget something again.

OR: How Carmy got that scar on his hand.

I Cannot Put My Thumb On When I Went So Numb (1517 words) by neonsandwich Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Richard "Richie" Jerimovich Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Michael "Mikey" Berzatto (Mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide Summary:

Carmen’s meds stopped working.

Carmen had known that for weeks, months even. His meds had been steadily decreasing in effectiveness for a while, but there was always something more pressing going on in his life than trying to schedule an appointment with his doctor, much less enter the process of trying to find a new antidepressant and dealing with the potential side effects from that. Carmen would just deal with the dread and extra self loathing at night and maybe the occasional suicidal thought. It wasn’t like he was going to act on those thoughts anyway, not after Mikey.

he said only sundown, sundays, christmas (2117 words) by hyacinthdreams Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu, Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Michael "Mikey" Berzatto Additional Tags: implications/references to suicide, implications/references to ptsd/grief, Dysfunctional Family, Character Study, No Beta, the Berzatto family, Atheist Character Summary:

carmen berzatto somehow screwed over the guardian angels in his life enough that he was going to a wedding, a funeral and a kid's birthday party all in one week, (bad things only came in cases of three or some shit like that, right?) all while trying to make sure his restaurant didn't go up in literal and metaphorical flames.

a study in carmy

ghosts and empty sockets (20510 words) by bartonbones Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu & Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Michael "Mikey" Berzatto Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sibling Love, Found Family, Nightmares, Eating Disorders, sort of...mostly just whatever carmy's got going on with his stomach issues, Self-Esteem Issues, look. he's a miserable little guy and it's my job to write about the misery of little guys, Grief/Mourning, shrimp boy carmy real, pre carmen/sydney if you squint, a lot of handwaving over timeline and career details dont acknowledge it pls, Yearning Summary:

"Again, their breath moves together, only instead of a sigh of relief it holds still, caught in their throats. They seem to both acknowledge a door half-open, a window just cracked. Sometimes it’s like this—working on the Bear, talking about Mikey when they have to, when they mention the money or the inspiration or the afternoons Carmen has to plan around in order to attend the AL meetings.

They are always on the edge of talking about it. Sometimes Carm feels it like a lighter, finger pressed down flat, letting all the gas out, never making a spark. It never catches, it never burns, but it’s there, fucking up the ozone layer or some shit like that. He’s always fucking up something."

OR: After months of hard work, The Bear is nearing opening, with a inaugural write-up in the Tribune to go with it. The only problem is: Carmy can't talk about the restaurant without talking about Mikey, and he can't talk about Mikey without talking about himself.

Close Enough (1678 words) by bloodinthecut Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Richard "Richie" Jerimovich Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Takes place after ep 8, Carmy is Not Okay, And we love to see it acknowledged Summary:

Richie is in the passenger seat. This is not by Carmy’s choice.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you skippin’ family, again,” he said as they finally closed up, chucking his keys at Carmy’s head and barely missing his eye. “You’re driving. I can’t get caught up in any more shit after that assault nonsense.”

In which Richie confronts Carmy after everything.

Salve: something that soothes or consoles (20764 words) by ouroboros_ontology (@eroticwound) Chapters: 6/? Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Sydney Adamu & Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto & Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu, Michael "Mikey" Berzatto, always haunting the narrative tbqh, mrs. berzatto, Marcus (The Bear TV 2022), Pete (The Bear TV 2022) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Hand injury, Grief, carmy is the boy on fire of my dreams, Multiple Perspectives, Angst, Post-Finale, Touch-Starved, Burns, Emetophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, corpse description, Canon-typical Cursing Summary:

Despite the money in the cans, Carm's still been off. Worse, maybe.

Or an accident in the kitchen puts everyone on the same page.

Yes, Chef/No, Chef (4991 words) by WatchMyFavesSuffer Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, New York Chef (The Bear TV 2022), Richard "Richie" Jerimovich, Michael "Mikey" Berzatto Additional Tags: Angst, Panic Attacks, Emetophobia, Verbal Abuse, Cooking, The French Brigade System, Fine Dining, Self-Esteem Issues, maybe hints of eating disorder (depending on how you look at the vomiting thing), mild body horror (in carmy's head), Perfectionism, black swan vibes, Whiplash (2014) vibes, Pre-Canon, Noma era, author watches a lot of cooking shows Summary:

“What the fuck is this?”

“Grilled branzino, Chef.”

“Wrong. This is dogshit.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Noma-era flashback, feat. abusive head chef, heavy Carmy angst, and a lot of kitchen jargon.

Bear Market Blue (4094 words) by threesmallcrows Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Characters: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto, Sydney Adamu Additional Tags: Eating Disorders, Past Sexual Abuse, Depression, Carmen "I'm straight up not having a good time" Berzatto, Character Study, Anxiety Summary:

In the intake room, he says to the nurse, “I mean I work in a kitchen for chrissake. I eat all the goddamn time.”

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