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thebearer · 2 years ago

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i'll be so happy loving you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a two for one special- the proposal and the elopement :) or how you and carmen get married.

contains: language, alludes to sexual references, some smut at the end but not super graphic. mainly just lovey dovey fluff!!!

Six Weeks Earlier

“Looks pretty in here, bear.” You hum, looking around the newly renovated restaurant. “I love that painting.” Now that The Bear was bringing in some revenue, Carmen and Sydney could decorate more how they envisioned, tiny touches that made the place dazzle- look and feel more like how they dreamed it would be.

“Yeah? Like it better than the old one?” Carmen grinned, arms looping around your waist, cheek pressed lazily to your own.

You melted into his touch, nodding gently. “Yeah. Much better.” You turn so your noses are nearly touching. “A lot better than that watercolor piece.”

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, I told Sugar it looked weird. Told her we needed fuckin’ abstract or somethin’.”

You looked at the painting, a configuration of muted lines and colors that somehow fit the aesthetic of the restaurant perfectly. “Yeah, I think everyone will like it. Looks perfect.” You mutter, lips brushing against Carmen’s cheek for a sweet kiss. He shouldn’t have flustered so easily, but how could he not? When you kissed him, looked at him, loved him this way.

“So what’s on the menu for tonight?” You asked, turning in Carmen’s arms, lazily looping your own around his neck.

“We’re closed tonight.” Carmen hoped you couldn’t feel the pounding in his heart, running his clammy hands down your waist while your brows knitted together. “Got a private event.”

“Private event? Ooh, very fancy, chef.” You quipped. “How did I miss that? I swear it wasn’t on the calendar-”

“-It wasn’t.” Carmen said quickly, far too quickly to be cool and unsuspecting like he’d hoped. You pulled back, a little shocked at his tone, his hands pulling you back to him, running soothingly down your spine. “I mean… It's a private party. A sort of celebration just for all of us. For the staff. Since we’ve been, uh, doin’ so good.”

You paused for a moment, eyes darting all over his face, trying desperately to read his expression. Carmen hoped you couldn’t see through him, hoped that the lie Richie made him rehearse would work on you. Hoped he wouldn’t ruin this like he ruined everything else.

“That’s sweet.” Your pursed lips melted into a smile. “I think that’ll be really nice, Carm. That’s very sweet. They deserved it. You deserve it, Carm.”

Carmen blushed, letting his eyes fall down between the two of you. He was still getting used to that, after all this time, the sweet compliments you gave him freely. Not as an apology or to get something out of him- use it to control him like others had.

“You deserve it too, y’know.” Carmen could feel his chest beating, rising and stomach turning the way it did when his heat rate picked up. The rational voice in his head was telling him there was nothing to be worried about, but it was a hushed whisper compared to the roar of “what if’s” and self doubting screams that took over.

Your lips curled in a little smile. You didn’t agree, but you didn’t argue either. Carmen could feel the lurch of his heart flutter back down into his chest. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

You laughed, brows lifting in amusement. “Oh? It’s a date? Thought this was staff appreciation.”

“More like a fancy kinda family.” Carmen schmoozed you easily. “But one where you should maybe wear that dress? Or really, whatever you want, but ya know… I’ll be dressed up and so will everyone else. It’s stupid, but-but I wanted it to be nice like the real experience sorta thing-”

“-Carm,” You cut off his rambling with a hand cradling his jaw, thumb gliding over the stubble on his chin. “I think it’s really sweet. I’ll dress up. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I don’t want to be a jack off in jeans.”

“A what?” Carmen barked out a laugh. “A jack off?” You frowned, nodding slightly. Carmen bit back his laugh, lips pulling in a wide smile. “It's a jag-off, baby. Gotta let it roll off the tongue.”

You blushed, rolling your eyes at him to hide your own embarrassment. “You’re a jagoff, Berzatto.” You jammed your finger into his chest, leaving him laughing.

Present

“This is it.” Carmen muttered, pushing the creaking door of the house open. You looked around the room, dimly lit with creaking planks of wood for floors. House plants everywhere and the sound of the waves rolling gently on the water outside when the boats cruised by.

“This is it, hm?” You grinned, looking around while Carmen set the bags down by the door, nervously tracking you.

“Yeah. It-It’s not a lot, baby, I told you it wouldn’t be. But I-I just… Wait until you see the view in the morning or-or at sunset, when it goes down over the water it’s so clear, you won’t believe it-”

“-Carmen,” You laughed lightly, a grin so wide your cheeks were hurting. “It’s perfect. Cute, I love it.” You giggled, pushing the blinds open to let the light in. Carmen’s chest aches with the release of tension from hearing that- that you liked it.

“So where’s this cat?” You hum, ducking under the table and couch to look, eyes scanning the small space of the boat house.

“The cat that doesn’t exist?” Carmen snorted lightly.

“You and Marcus say that but I know it’s here.” You hum, scanning the room for a cat door, anyway that the animal might come in and out. “Probably just scared of the two of you.”

“Kinda the charm of this place, honey. You don’t see the cat. Just feed the invisible cat and water the plants.” Carmen was beaming, watching your frame illuminated by the bright Denmark sun shining in through the windows.

“Hm, I’m gonna see this cat before I leave.” You declared, checking the cabinets, the hall closets- all the places your own cat liked to hide. Anchovy, you and Carmen’s precious boy, found in the dumpster outside of The Bear.

Carmen’s lips quipped in a smirk. “I wanna see your cat. How about that, hm?” It was corny, cheesy, made you cringe and laugh and gag exaggeratedly all at the same time; which is exactly why he said it. Arms wrapping around your waist, he pulled you close, lips hovering over yours.

“Carm,” You sighed gently, a trace of a giggle following with the breathy moan that hitched in your throat when his hands kneaded the fat of your ass. “Thought we had to meet your friend later? I still have to get ready and shower-”

“-We got two hours, baby.” Carmen purred, tongue running over your bottom lip teasingly, feeling you tense under his touch. “C’mon, we got time. I’ll take a shower with you, too. Save time.”

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. He was insatiable, and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you here, back at the “most beautiful fuckin’ place on Earth” according to Carmen. He looked so good, so pretty. The way the sunlight would catch in his eyes. They were brighter here, bluer. You didn’t know how that was possible, but it was, and it left you clinging to his hand while you strolled down the street, gazing into his eyes positively dopey and love drunk.

“You gotta be quick.” You pointed at him with an exaggerated glare, already giving in. “Not like last night. We almost missed our flight, bear.”

“But we didn’t.” Carmen grinned, his breath hot when it trailed down your cheek to your jaw, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in its wake, hands tilting your head back gently to get to your neck.

Carmen walked you back towards the kitchen table, hands gripping and sliding down your waist up to your neck. “You just look s’pretty. My pretty girl.”

You blushed, enveloping his lips fully, letting yourself melt into him, maybe he was melting into you- the two of you molding into each other, fusing together like it was your only purpose in life. Your legs around his waist, lying back on the rickety oak table that Carmen assured “It’ll be fine, just relax, baby. I got ya.” His hand in yours while he rolled deeply inside of you, skin to skin, a chorus of whines and mewls mixing in harmony in the kitchen.

Six Weeks Earlier

“Oh, looks like we’re early.” You look around the restaurant. The tables were set and lights dim, but only you and Carmen seemed to be the ones in it.

“Uh, they-they finished late, but, uh, they’ll be here.” Carmen stuttered, hands running down the front of his pants again, eyes darting around the room.

Your eyes narrowed lightly, but shook it off. Carmen was nervous, he had been for weeks. You thought it was because of the restaurant’s new Michelin star holder status, or maybe because of the countless interviews and press that came with it. Still, that had been weeks ago, the press had died down slightly, and Carmen was still anxious.

“Ah, good evening, folks.” Richie beamed, sliding behind the hostess stand. “How are the two of you this fine night?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Great, Richie. How are you?” You played along.

“I am having a lovely night, even better not that you are here.” Richie schmoozed, leaving you snorting lightly at his dramatics. “Right this way.”

“So what time does everyone get here?” You ask, sliding into the booth.

“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Richie said easily, calming your suspicions. “I'll go ahead and get you two started while you wait.”

“So you didn’t get the night off?” You laugh gently.

“Someone’s gotta take care of everything, sweetheart.” Richie shrugged. “Champagne? Or is that too early?”

Carmen’s eyes flashed at Richie. “I just want water, Cousin.”

If there was any hostility, Richie didn’t seem to notice, simply turning to you. “And for the lovely lady?”

“Uh, I’m good with water for now too.” You nodded. “I’ll wait until everyone else gets here.”

“Wonderful.” Richie grinned, eyes cutting in a glare towards Carmen’s. “I’ll be back with that for the two of you.”

You waited until Richie was gone, turning to Carmen carefully. “Hey, what was that?” You asked.

“What?” Carmen tried to appear calm and chill, his body tensing beside you. “What-What was what?”

Your brows furrowed. “Carmen… Are you ok?” You asked, reaching out to grab his hand lightly. His hands were clammy, tensing in yours, and pulling away quickly to wipe the perspiration on his jeans. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No.” Carmen shook his head furiously. He felt like he might throw up and sob at the same time. Felt like his own heart might just give out entirely. “I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m just… I’m still trying to figure out the summer menu. Make sure it’s good because we’ve never done that before. That’s what we’re trying tonight, and-and I just hope it’s good, ya know?” It wasn’t a total lie, Carmen was worried about the menu and you were testing it tonight.

You seemed to believe him, his chest loosening when you scooched closer to him, cuddled together in the booth. “It’ll be good. You know it will, bear.” You hummed, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, laughing when you pulled apart. “Shit, I’m sorry I forgot I have lipstick on.” You giggle, wiping the imprint away lightly off his blushing cheeks.

“Sorry for the wait.” Richie hummed, dropping the two waters off easily with the new starter for you to try. A classic Mediterranean salad and pita spruced up “Sydney style” as you would say. The term had caught on in the kitchen, finding its way into the names and actions done there. Carmen loved it. Loved the way you said it, the way the staff said it, that it came from you.

“I’ll leave this here, and I’ll be back with the first course.” Richie smiled.

“Richie, why don’t you sit with us and try it until the others get here?” You nodded to the spot beside you.

Carmen froze and so did Richie, the two of them looking at each other for only a moment- but it was a moment too long. Your suspicions rose again, eyes flickering between the two of them. “Ya know, I would love to, but I gotta help the newbies in the kitchen.” Richie said easily. “Gotta make sure they got everything covered. I’m head chef tonight.”

You didn’t laugh or roll your eyes like you normally would. Instead, you glared at him lightly. Richie’s eyes flashed to Carmen’s. “Alright, well, uh, if the two of you need anything? I’m your guy, alright?”

You waited until he was back in the kitchen, Carmen’s eyes focused on the food, knee bouncing furiously under the table. “Carmen, look at me.” You demanded, turning to him fully. His eyes lifted hesitant towards yours, wide and round like a child caught coloring on the walls. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, baby, I promise.” Carmen said quickly, trying to soothe you but his rigid, frantic tone didn’t help.

“Carmen-”

“-It’s nothing.” Carmen said, matching your firm tone. “Just Richie bein’... I dunno what the fuck he’s doin’. Pissin’ me off.” Carmen grumbled, shaking his head.

“Did you two get in a fight or something?” You pressed. “Is that why you’re being weird?”

Carmen blinked. “Yes.” He blurted. That wasn’t true, not even remotely. He and Richie had been getting along great, actually, for once. But if it would throw off your suspicions, then he’d gladly throw Richie under the bus- this once.

“Oh.” You frowned lightly. “Why? I thought you guys were getting along?”

“You know how Richie is.” Carmen rolled his eyes for emphasis. “He just… He can’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut.”

“What did he say?” You asked, reaching for the pita, scooping it in the blended dip of sorts.

“Just… It was stupid and gross. I really don’t want to talk about it.” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about him. Wanna talk to you. How is it?”

You hummed, chewing lightly. “Amazing. As always.” You beamed proudly at Carmen. “I told you it would be. You’re the best, bear.”

Carmen blushed, chewing on his own piece. It was good. Sydney had found the perfect balance, she always did. “Well, this is Syd, not me. Can’t take the credit for this one.”

“Mm, I thought it tasted very Sydney style.” You giggled.

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, hoping you didn’t see the way his hands shook when he took a sip of water. He could barely eat, barely drink around the lump in his throat. “She did most of this, but, uh, I did the dessert.”

“You did?” You gawked gently. “Not Marcus?”

“No.” Carmen nudged you lightly. “Well, he helped a little. But it was mostly me. He said I could take the credit on this one”

“That bad, huh?” You laughed. “Marcus doesn’t even want to put his name on it? Yikes.”

Carmen rolled his eyes, grinning fondly at you. “I think you’ll like it.”

You eyed him playfully. “Well, I have high hopes, Berzatto.”

Me too. Carmen thought, shoving another torn piece of pita in his mouth, hand rubbing anxiously over his pocket again.

Present

“So the two of you met in school?” You ask, hand on Carmen’s knee under the table, lightly rubbing over his slacks soothingly.

“Yes. And he was so much better than me, I thought about dropping out every single day.” Luca grinned playfully at Carmen. “You know, that’s why I went to pastry? Because I knew I’d never compete with Carmen in the other areas, but making a tart? I could outdo him on a tart.”

“I could never get the crust right.” Carmen shrugged. “Could never figure out how to get it flaky enough. Used to drive me fuckin’ insane.”

Luca grinned smugly, refilling his own glass of wine. “Well, your chef, Marcus, has got it. Might have it even better than me. Real talent on that one.”

“Yeah.” Carmen beamed. “He’s good. Real good.”

“He is.” Luca nodded, before looking over at you. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t want to be rude, talking about all this cooking nonsense. I’m sure you’ve had enough of that back home.”

“Oh, no. I love to hear about it.” You beamed, reassuringly. “I wish I could cook like that. You can ask Carm, I’m a hopeless cook. Horrible at it.”

“No, you’re not, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head lightly at you. “She’s good. Can make a better grilled cheese than any of us.”

Luca grinned at your blush, the way Carmen pulled you into his side lovingly. It was good to see Carmen like this. The last time, right after Mikey’s death, Carmen was dull. It worried Luca. Carmen had always been tightly wound, anxious, meticulous to a fault, but it seemed to get more extreme- damaging. It was refreshing to see him now. Luca could hardly recognize him, the relaxed, cool man in front of him. No ounce of competition in his tone, his guard down for once. Here with you; happy with you.

“So, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I have to ask.” Luca said, leaning forward on the table gently. “Why here? Why not at home for the two of you? Not that I mind, at all, of course. I’m honored, but I have to know why here?”

You looked at Carmen, lashes batting lightly. “Well, Carmen always said it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Marcus, too. And… I dunno, I’d always wanted to come, so we figured why not?”

“This place has always been good for me, ya know?” Carmen muttered, his knee bouncing lightly. “I-I… nothin’ bad has ever happened here like it has other places.” He didn’t need to say it, you both knew. “It’s always been good, and-and I wanna keep the good. We’re already good, I just wanna do it somewhere good, too.”

Luca nodded slowly, lifting his own wine glass up to the two of you. “Well, then; to keeping the good.” He grinned, his glass clinking against your own when they touched. “And I’m honored to be a part of this, really.”

“Thank you for bein’ a part of it.” Carmen said, jaw clenched with emotion. “Means a lot, Luca. I, uh, I-I really-”

“Don’t mention it, friend. I’m happy to. Excited, really, for the two of you.” Luca nodded warmly.

“We are too.” You grin, beaming up at Carmen lovingly.

“Yeah… yeah we are.” Carmen hummed, hand sliding down your hip and squeezing it gently.

Six Weeks Earlier

“I think it’s great, but you know me, bear. I’d eat chicken tenders every day if I could.” You giggled.

“Still?” Carmen beamed, eyes dazzling in amusement, huddled into you in the booth like you two were the only two in the restaurant- and well, you were. You hadn’t seemed to notice, thankfully.

“Thought I finally got you outta that?” Carmen teased.

“Nuh-uh, no way, bear. I’m still a tender defender-”

“-Tender defender?” Carmen howled in laughter.

“Yes! I love chicken tenders, and frankly, your disdain for them is off putting, Berzatto. You should love and appreciate all foods, Mr. Michelin star Chef of the year.” You tickled his side lightly, making him squirm gently, a little blushy under your praise.

“Yeah, maybe not tenders. Nuggets? I can get behind nuggets.” Carmen hummed, his smile falling gently when he saw Richie come out, holding the small covered tray. His heart hammered, feeling his stomach turn while you still giggled beside him.

“And dessert is here.” Richie said smoothly, eyes cutting to Carmen’s.

“Ooh, what is it?” You asked, reaching over to pull the cloche off.

“Eh, eh, hold on.” Richie pulled it away gently. “The Chef,” His eyes cut dramatically to Carmen’s. “Wants it to be a surprise. Wants to surprise you himself.”

You looked at Carmen, an amused grin on your lips. “Oh, does he?” You quip.

Richie winked at Carmen, backing away. “Enjoy, you two.”

Carmen waited until the doors shut to look at you, sure his heart was going to stop entirely. “So?” You lifted a brow, a finger tracing the bottom plate lightly. “What’s the big surprise?”

Carmen’s heart fluttered in his chest at your smile, wiping his hands one more time on his pants before he grasped the lid, a white knuckled grip so his shaking would still. “You, uh, you remember how Marcus was talking that one time about the cake he had in Copenhagen? And how-how it was the best thing he’d ever had?” Fuck, he was stuttering, his mind racing, and his hands were clamming all over again.

“Yeah, the sponge one, right?” You asked, nodding gently.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” Carmen nodded. “So, uh, I was thinking… You should try it.”

“Oh?” You grinned, eyes flashing to him excitedly. “Is that what this is? Carmen, that’s so sweet-”

“-No.” Carmen shook his head, watching your face fall in confusion. “Fuck, I mean, yeah, it is- it’s- I’m just-” Carmen took a deep breath, trying to still his nerves, stop his ramblings. “I think you should try it for yourself,” His hands shook when he pulled the lid off, revealing the plate.

You gawked, looking at the tiny sponge cake, covered in a thin layer of chocolate separating the many layers, a dollop of cream of some sorts on top. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. No, it was the two tickets sticking out of the top, plane tickets to Copenhagen.

“Carmen…” You gasped lightly, looking at him with bright eyes that made his heat leap.

“I think you should get to try it for yourself, there.” Carmen grinned. “I-I want us to go together and try it.”

“Carmen, oh my god, this is-this is just… You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” You grin, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into you in a hard kiss. One that had his mind stilling, body melting to yours. Kissing you always made him feel like that. Like he had no other purpose than to just kiss you, and to him, maybe he didn’t.

“This is so sweet. I-I can’t wait!” You squealed, hugging him tightly. “Oh, I want to go to that restaurant your friend works at! And maybe we could go to those gardens? I saw them on TikTok and I’ve wanted to go so badly since then.”

Carmen nodded, your head on his chest, he was sure now that you could hear his heart still hammering. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. Whatever you want to do.” His eyes closed, taking a cleansing breath. Carmen looked at you, the excitement in your eyes. It’s now or never, Berzatto. Let it rip.

“There’s, uh, o-one more thing I’d like to do.” Carmen shuddered, sliding away from you gently, his hand slipping in his pocket as casually as he could.

You were bubbly, positively giddy with excitement, you didn’t even notice it. “Yeah? What else? Anything, baby.”

Carmen fought back a tiny laugh, his sweaty hand clasped in front of you, free one taking your hand. “I, uh, I-I… I wanna marry you?”

Your breath hitched, body stilling. You were sure you’d heard him wrong, grip tightening in his. “W-What?”

Carmen’s hand opened slowly, revealing the ring, dazzling even in the low light of the restaurant. Your breath hitched, falling out of your lungs sharply at the sight.

“I wanna marry you.” Carmen repeated, steadier this time even of the rapid fire beats of his heart. “I mean, I want to marry you even if it’s not there, but-but we talked about a destination wedding if we ever did… And-And I… I can’t imagine living another day without you. I have never loved anything- anyone the way I loved you. Never been loved the way you love me, and… I want to do it every single day for the rest of my life.”

Your lip wobbled, tears pricking your eyes as Carmen picked up the ring, holding it between his pointer and thumb. Your eyes flickered back to his. “You're the best person I’ve ever met; I ever will meet, baby. You’re-you’re fun, and you’re caring and sweet, and you always are so good to me. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

“Carm-”

“-No, I mean it. You are. You are the best. And I love you so much, it-it makes my fuckin’ chest hurt sometimes how much I love you.” Carmen let out a breathy laugh. Your own watery laugh bubbled out of your chest, making your lip wobble, tears streaming down your face.

“I want to go to Copenhagen with you, and-and I want to go to France with you, and- fuck, I wanna go everywhere and do everything with you for the rest of my life.” Carmen rambled, his own eyes glassy when they looked into yours.

He said your name, letting each syllable roll off his tongue, your own heart squeezing with joy. “Will you marry me?”

Your throat felt strangled with emotions, a wet sniffle and a tiny squeak of a cry falling from your lips. “Yes.” You nodded, your own hand shaking in his. “Yes, Carm, yes. I’ll marry you, yes.”

“Yes?” Carmen was sure he was hallucinating; dreaming, maybe. Had to be. But yet, there you were, wiping your eyes, nodding and giving a watery laugh that had his heart aching in the best way.

“Yes, Carmen, are you kidding me? Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” You muttered, your hands finding his jaw easily, pulling him for another kiss that had his head reeling, a small sob passing through his lips onto yours.

Carmen fumbled through his own teary sniffles, hands shaking with adrenaline when he slipped the ring on, your foreheads pressed together. “Holy shit, it’s… it’s beautiful, Carmen.” You gawked, pulling the ring up to see it. The design, the cuts, it screamed Carmen in the best way- made your lip quiver all over again.

“Yeah? I-I designed it, and I just… It looked like something you’d like.” Carmen muttered, turning to wipe his eyes.

“I love it.” You beam. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Carmen whispered, hands cradling your wet cheeks, moving sweetly back to you.

“So,” Richie’s voice interrupted, halting the two of you. You turned, seeing the staff standing excitedly behind him. “Do you want the champagne now?”

Present

The ceremony was a whirlwind. The two of you, standing hand in hand in the Copenhagen City Hall. Carmen in a suit, sans tie, a blue gray sort of jacket that made his eyes pop even more, if that was possible. You, in your wedding dress, casual and short but still so pretty. You knew when you saw it that it was the one. A tiny veil and a bouquet of flowers, Carmen had surprised you with this morning, your ring dazzling.

Luca passed you the ring, a warm smile when you took it, repeating the vows to Carmen before you slipped it on his inked finger. A couple signatures and a kiss later, and the two of you were married- married. The photographer you’d hired snapped photos in the garden out front, Luca gifted you a bottle of Jouet and well wishes.

Carmen carried you through the threshold, insisted on it, scooping you up and kicking the door open while you squealed and giggled. The two of you were giddy, climbing on a high of adrenaline and oxytocin.

Carmen kissed you in the kitchen, his wife. His hand cradled your cheeks, your hand slipping over his, rings scratching lightly- metal on metal. A reminder that it was real- this was real.

For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto.

For the first time tangled in the sheets with his wife. Feeling your lips against his, your fingers in his hair, diamond scratching his scalp when your fists curled. His ring left an imprint on your thighs when he gripped them.

Carmen’s head was buried between your thighs, lapping at your dripping heat like his heart might give out if he didn’t. “Oh! Carm, right there, right there…” You hummed, eyes fluttering, and back arching off the creaking bed. You didn’t care that it shook, part of you hoped you'd break it.

Carmen could barely hear, your thighs clamped around his head like earmuffs. He was in his own ecstasy driven state, high off the day's events and his love for you, mindlessly lapping at you until he felt your hands push him away.

“What?” Carmen panted, your slickness coating his mouth, pupils blown with lust. “What’s wrong?”

“Look,” You whispered, pointing to the corner of the room.

Carmen turned, hands still gripping your thighs, neck craning to see. There at the edge of the door, two blinking eyes gazed back at him. An orange tabby, perched and clicking back at the two of you curiously.

“No fuckin’ way.” Carmen muttered, cheek resting against your thigh lightly.

You giggled, running a hand through his hair. “Told you! He’s probably just scared of you.” You hummed.

Carmen snorted lightly, standing to coax the cat out gently before he shut the door. He didn’t need you distracted or worse; the cat jumping up on the bed while you two were going at it.

“Can’t believe that fuckin’ cat’s real.” Carmen grinned, shaking his head lightly.

“He’s just scared of you and Marcus. I must have good energy.” You beamed playfully.

Carmen rolled his eyes, pushing you back lightly on the bed. “Just lay back f’me, alright? Let me take care of you, baby.”

You purred, hips grinding into his touch. “Yes, Mr. Berzatto.” You giggled, back arching when he licked a long, flat tongue stripe through your drenched folds. Copenhagen was better than you could have imagined, even better now. Weeks later, you’d frame the photo of the two of you in the garden, grinning fondly at the memory. At your husband. At your life together with him now and forever.

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ciaomarie · 1 year ago

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Waiting on my AO3 invite. Here's a one shot Sydcarmy story. Canon compliant. Post season 2. Please excuse the grammar/spelling mistakes. I need season 3 to get here quickly!

Title: Won't You Be My Neighbor

It was her break and for the 89th time in the last three days Sydney reassessed the apartments within 15 minutes walking distance from The Bear. As CDC she no longer wanted to depend on the train should there be some kind of accident, strike, or weather event. There were three that she could afford on her own and many more options if she were willing to become a roommate. She wasn't. If inspiration for a recipe struck her at 2am she wanted to get up and cook if she wanted. She loved the freedom of walking around naked after a shower, picking out her clothes or getting a snack. Most of all she missed turning up her music and dancing like an inflatable tube man in private.

She had sent a message to each leasing office to schedule an appointment next Monday and two of the three had confirmed a 10a and 11a showing. It had been more than 48 hours since she messaged the third so she called. The leasing agent informed her that the specific unit she wanted was no longer available, but they had a gorgeous 2 bedroom for $3800 a month if she was interested. "Okay, now that's just two options" Sydney muttered after getting off the phone.

"Hey mija, what you looking at?" Tina asked sitting down to eat lunch.

"Just apartments. I finally have the funds to move" Sydney answered with a sigh.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to be getting out on your own?"

"Oh, yeah for sure. It's just I'm really picky"

"Well, it doesn't have to be forever. Just make sure to read the reviews. You don't want roaches or bed bugs".

"Oh, I can't stand bugs! My dad still has to kill them for me, but I better get a fly swatter and spray now that I'll be on my own soon."

Break was over and Sydney stood up to resume her duties. First she needed to talk to Natalie about the upcoming private party. A celebrity had reserved the entire restaurant next Thursday evening. The names of all staff members on duty that night had to be submitted ahead of time with signed NDAs. It was all happening so fast and The Bear's debt was likely to be paid less than a year after opening. First there had been a Grio article about her being a rising black chef. That led to Keith Lee, the TikTok restaurant reviewer, raving about his to-go order that included the T-Bone and the Michael cannoli. It went viral and suddenly, they were booked for the next three months with a waiting list. She was working harder than ever, getting paid pretty well, and she deserved a place of her own.

After talking to Natalie, she found Carmy working on her prep.

"Hey, thanks! I can take over that now if you want"

"Actually….it's done. I wanted to take you somewhere for like 30 minutes" he said finishing up and cleaning the station.

Sydney folded her arms, her eyebrows raised high.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"I know you've been looking for a place and I think know the perfect apartment for you. Just a 10 minute walk from here. The landlord gave me the key so I could show you today" Carmy said trying to sound casual, but a deep pink flush rose in his cheeks.

"Why is he being weird?" Sydney thought but simply said "Okay, that's dope."

The Chicago air was soft and warm, the clean sunlight making everything look new. Summer afternoons like this made you forgive the brutal winters here. Carmy directed Sydney when to turn left and right, but refused to tell her where exactly they were going. Soon they were standing in front of his building.

The reason for his weirdness was now perfectly clear to Sydney and she felt so flattered that she had to avoid looking at Carmy when she said "So, there's an open unit in your building?"

"Uh, yeah. The people who lived just above me moved and I, uh, thought you might want to see it".

The apartment was on the fourth floor. Carmy unlocked the door and let Sydney go in first. The walls were freshly painted in "Cloud White" and the oak hardwood floors creaked comfortably under their feet. The layout was the same as Carmy's apartment with plenty of windows to let in natural light and a shockingly large kitchen for a 1 bedroom place in Chicago. As Sydney inspected the appliances and bathroom, she decided that if the rent was going to eat up even half of her check it was worth it. She had always admired Carmy's spacious apartment and with her sense of style she could make hers, a cozy bohemian oasis filled with plants, wall art, and actual furniture (eventually).

Carmy had let her roam around in silence for a few minutes, muttering and emitting tiny sounds of joy to herself. When she met him in the living room again, he said trying not to grin too widely, "If you like it, it's already yours."

"How? I know places like this are snatched up fast" Sydney said her eyes finally able to meet his again.

"The landlords, they're a couple, and their 20th wedding anniversary is coming up. They want reservations at The Bear." Carmy explained, desperately hoping to sound nonchalant about it.

"Oh, that's nice work, Carmy."

Then Sydney squealed and cried "This is just what I wanted!!" and she flung her arms around his shoulders in a wild hug. Carmy commanded his body not to shudder as he hugged her back. She was just wearing a t-shirt and without her usual layers of clothing he felt her delicate frame, her slim shoulder blades imprinting on his fingers.

In a moment Sydney pulled back shly and let her arms fall to her sides, her face burning. She made a mental note: Hugging Carmy. Not a safe activity for those who want to cook along side him using sharp objects or sleep peacefully at night dreaming innocent thoughts.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" Sydney said taking another step back and making another turn around the room.

Carmy nodded and concentrated on not melting into the floorboards.

"You're okay with this? We already spend 60+ hours together at the restaurant every week and now I'd be in your building! And literally living on top of you."

"Yeah, well, I want you to. You deserve everything you want, Syd."

"Then I'll take it! Just a warning though. If you hear someone belting out Kpop and an occasional thud, that's just my weekly one woman concert, which will be over no later than 10pm. I'm not being murdered."

Carm was no longer unable to contain the width of his smile. This girl is so cute, his body physically ached. How would he get through service tonight?

With a happy shake of his head, he replied, "Thank you, for the heads up!"

With that Sydney marched towards the door and exclaimed "Take me to your landlord!"

Carmy floated behind her.

Cue: Maxwell's "Whenever, Wherever, Whatever"

#sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #syd adamu #the bear #fanfic #fan fiction #one shot

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leviathanspain · 2 years ago

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don’t let me go

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: you had hoped he would never know, but what was carmy if not complicated

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carmen had been ignoring you all day. it wasn’t like him, but you also never cared before. but that was before, and this was now.

you wiped your brow with the back of your hand, the spatula in the sauce still moving at a furious pace. you looked over at sydney, glancing at what she was doing before you tried to call her over. “yo syd..” you waved a hand over and pointed to your sauce, “try it. let me know what you think.” you stepped back to lean on the counter behind you. sydney smiled slightly as she stepped up to the plate, bringing the spatula up, she let her finger swipe just slightly off the top, before tasting it.

her eyes lit up as she nodded, “holy shit.” she looked at you, “that’s really good- oh my god. what is that?” she looked down at the sauce, and you laughed, “just some-“

“carm’s gotta try this.” sydney glanced back at you before picking up the spatula, “where is he?” she looked at you but didn’t even bother for an answer as she walked around the kitchen.

“syd- maybe it’s not a good idea, yknow carm-“ you tried to explain why it really wasn’t a good idea, but the girl had already started running off with your sauce, getting the rest of the kitchen to taste it.

tina had given her nod of approval, though she avoided your eye. richie had refused to try it, and even if you hadn’t planned for anyone to try it beside syd, you still slipped him a ‘fuck you’.

carmy had been in the office, staring at the mountain of paper work when he looked up, seeing sydney in the doorway with a pot, and you, not even looking at him but hanging around behind sydney. he raised his eyebrows, “what?”

“y/n made this amazing sauce, everyone’s loved it, and you should really try it-“ sydney brought the pot close to him but carm shook his head, “i’m good, i’m good.” his response created disbelief in sydney’s face, but you wanted to scream ‘i told you so’ to the girl. god you wanted to slap him, and you wanted to slap him good.

sydney and carm exchanged a private couple of words until sydney looked at you sympathetically. she took your sauce and you stood there, seeing just carmy’s arm as he moved around in the office.

taking a good breath in, you walked into the office, slamming the door behind you.

“ignoring me is one thing, but refusing my food is another thing.” you stared at him, but carmen instead stared at the wall. silence met your words and you inhaled, “goddamnit! stop being like this, for fuck sakes carmen, it was one time! one really fucked up time.” you threw your hands up, running them over your hair.

carmy stood up suddenly, the sound of his chair being thrown back into his desk met your ears, and you blinked, “you should’ve told me.” he looked at you, “you should’ve been the one to tell me. not tina, not richie, no one.” carmy looked at you and for once, the look in those big blue eyes was something more.

you sniffled, feeling your face get hot at the confrontation. you hadn’t expected it to go like this, but it was carmy, and things didn’t always go as expected.

you shrugged, “what do you want me to say? apologize? i don’t have to because this,” you pointed between you two, “is nothing. we are nothing but coworkers, carm, you’re the one-“

carmy shook his head, “no- this isn’t about that-“

“then what is it about? what else could me sleeping with your brother be? it was one time, carmy.” you kept repeating it, but the words were beginning to lose their meaning. carmen was frustrated, and it was building up in this tiny room.

he laughed, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “fuck this.” he grabbed at the door handle but you threw yourself against the door, “we’re not done. and i refuse to have those assholes hear any of this.” you paused, staring at the floor, “i didn’t know you then, carm. all i knew was that mikey had a kid brother who was this award winning chef. then,” you shrugged, “that award winning chef suddenly became my boss. and my boss became something more.”

carmy was looking at the ground, as if afraid to face the truth.

“carm-“ you called his attention, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “carm. fuck, carmy,” you wiped them away but you couldn’t control the sob that escaped your lips. it was loud, a guttural noise that left you wondering if you had even made it.

carmen looked up, and saw you, red faced and teary eyed, “fucking hold me, carmen.” you demanded, and immediately felt his arms wrap themselves around you.

you let your hands tie at his waist, feeling the cotton material of his ridiculously expensive white shirt, a remnant of the life he had lived in new york.

carmy held you for a while, even tried to let go once but you had yelled at him, “don’t let me go.” the words felt gritty, but so did most things. carmen was most things, whatever it was between you was as electric as it was complicated. you both ignited a drive in the other that normally would’ve caused disfunction between normal people, but you two were different.

except moments like these. moments of true emotion that left you wondering if you weren’t different, if you two were superficial in your hate and anger, and if you truly despised the other.

you heard him mutter your name, “y/n..” you looked up, and carmen kissed you suddenly, a quick kiss that you hadn’t had time to blink, “finish your fucking sauce,” he breathed into your lips. you pulled away, inhaling and fixed your apron, “yes, chef.” carmy crossed his arms, “and get started on those potatoes. i don’t wanna see some mashed up shit anymore, get it right.”

“yes, chef.”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy angst #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy x reader

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puppietooth · 1 year ago

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hi these are some of my sydcarmy headcanons:

* i love reading fics where they both realize they like each other and then start furiously making out but. also. what if carmy asks syd out and she’s a little skeptical about it at first? but she agrees to go on the date anyway — and carmy takes her out to a little fancy joint by the river and is so nervous about messing up that his hands are so so so shaky and he can’t even pour the wine into their glasses right. so he fumbles through some half apology half speech about how he’s just really happy she’s here and how he really really really likes her and how he’s honestly glad that she was willing to give him a chance and how he’s very anxious because she looks so pretty in that dress she’s wearing. and syd realizes that, holy shit, he really does like her — and she thinks she really likes him too. so they wine and they dine and when the night is over he takes her home, walks her up to her door, and doesn’t kiss her because he says that’s something he’d like to do on the third date, if she’ll have him. and of course, she says yes, she would like to go on more dates with him — she says yes like he just proposed to her, because they’re so intense about everything they do.

* i think that syd and carmy, carmy especially, are the type of people to be vaguely private about their relationship. like, it’s very obvious that they are together, they won’t hide it — if you see them in person, if you see the way they look at each other, move with each other, the way they talk to each other, you will know that they’re together. they will casually mention each other in interviews and articles, refer to the other as their partner. but they will not post a million pictures of each other on social media, they are not that couple. there will be the occasional, slightly vague post — a picture of carmy in his chef whites, back turned to the camera, posted to syd’s instagram account to congratulate him on The Bear’s fifth year of service. A congratulations to chef sydney adamu on her james beard nomination tweeted to carmy’s twitter account. and if they ever do attain that level of fame, there will be the occasional pap shot of them walking back from a deli, or a farmer’s market (in true JAW fashion). but unless you’re close to them you’ll only see that surface level to their relationship

* i know that they’re roughly the same height but in my head sydney is just slightly taller than carmy, just by a few inches, nothing too big. carmy is not the type of person that cares about height, it’s not a big insecurity of his, and deep down, he finds the similarity in height between him and syd to be quite grounding and comforting. he likes being able to hug her and comfortably put his chin on her shoulder. he likes how it doesn’t feel awkward when they put their arms around each other, and how neither of them have to bend down or get on their toes to kiss each other.

* another thing i absolutely love in fics — when syd just gets the opportunity to talk about her hair. i don’t think carmy is ignorant, but realistically, he does not know about, for instance, the difference between 2b and 4c hair (as in, the labels) and how to care for 4c hair, which (i’m pretty sure) syd has. like, i think hair care would be such an important aspect of their relationship — syd teaches him about protective styles, tells him why she sleeps with a satin scarf wrapped around her braids, what silk presses are and why she has to spend a good twenty minutes wrapping it up each night before she goes to bed. and carmy helps her take her braids out, because four hands are faster than two, he helps her put twists in, helps her blow dry and comb it out the night before her next appointment. and sixth months into their relationship, he becomes a walking glossary — he will tell you what leave-in conditioner is, what edge control is for, why you shouldn’t buy cantu products, the textural difference between synthetic and human hair. and secretly, he thinks to himself, this will also be useful information for him to know if he and syd ever have kids one day because yes — carmy doesn’t do things halfway and he is already thinking that far ahead.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the brainrot is real #pj rambles

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allbark-no-bite · 2 years ago

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kiss me and apologize || Carmen Berzatto x reader

summary: from private chef to working in a rundown restaurant in Chicago, your life does a 180 as you try to fit into the world that is the Beef. Richie isn’t helping and Carmen just can’t figure you out

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of michael’s death/suicide

author’s note: so um i guess i write for the Bear now?? official obsessed with the show and was inspired by all of the great writers that write for Carmy on here :)

"Carmen? The door?"

"What—? Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry."

He turns towards the door, fumbling for the key with numb fingers, his face burning hot.

He wasn't used to anyone else besides himself showing up to the restaurant so early in the morning, and he definitely wasn't used to you and your pink cheeks and and warm smile greeting him at the door. You were a new hire to the Beef, a godforsaken miracle dressed in oversized overalls who had shown up two weeks ago and been hired by Sydney on the spot.

She had been smitten with you from the start, dead set on hiring you without so much as a second interview.

"—studied in Copenhagen, worked at multiple Michelins in New York. I mean look at this, Carmen. She's a private chef in the Hamptons. We would be stupid not to hired her."

And you were great. You are great. Except for the fact that you're really fucking distracting.

"You sure you got it, chef?"

Carmen can't even blame the heat rising from his cheeks from the cold at this point because his hands are sweating as he jiggles the door knob that somehow always seems to get jammed at the worst possible moments. This is one of those moments.

Finally, he hefts his weight against the door while twisting the knob and it busts open. A muffled snort escapes you from behind him. Carmen steps inside, holding the door open for you with a small wave of his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure this crap isn't what you were expecting when you applied here—"

He's rambling, stomach twisting in knots. His nerves always screw up his stomach—maybe he'll pop a few Tums before—

"It's fine, Camren," you assure him, stepping in from the cold, body pressing against his in the small entry way. "I like it here."

I like you.

"Yo, am I interrupting something, cousin? You and the princess wanna take that shit somewhere else?" Richie's shout can be heard from all the way across the parking lot, and it makes Carmen visibly cringe.

"Fuck off, cousin," Carmen mutters, reluctantly breaking away from you.

Still standing in the doorway, you huff, whatever moment you and Carmen had shared broken by Richie's arrival. The taller man stomps up the front steps, shaking snow from his boots.

So far, he had been the only staff member you found unbearable. Even Tina had warmed to you after a few weeks and now took great pleasure in listening to your elaborate stories as a private chef. Richie, on the other hand, hated your guts.

"You just gonna stand there and let all the fuckin' cold air in? I'll let Sugar know to take the heating outta your paycheck."

"Fuck off, Richie."

The morning is only the beginning of his wrath.

——

"Richie, you fucking imbecile—"

"Every single time you open your mouth, all I hear is this fuckin' bullshit. Jesus, you're so fuckin' high and mighty with your fancy ass college degree," he sneers, looming over you. If he stepped any closer you would have lacked the self control not to hit him. "You wanna come in here, act like you know everything because daddy sent you to school—"

"You don't have to fucking like me, Richie, but what you're not going to do is push me around and be an egotistical misogynist just because you have a set of balls. So give me my fucking knife."

Richie's hand is in the air beside your head, waving about in wild gesticulation that he does not have your knife, or any fucking knife for that matter. "I don't have your shit!"

With your jaw clenched together, you breathe in deeply through your nose and take in the taller man through narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "Fine." You turn on your heals and storm off. "CARMEN."

Richie throws his hands up and scoffs at your retreating back, yelling after you. "Ohh go ahead, fuckin' call mommy. Like I'm scared of him," he snorts.

"CARMEN!" Your fury only fueled by Richie's taunts, your stride quickens as you shove your way through the chaos of the kitchen, dodging both Sydney and Marcus.

"Woah, chef. What's the matter?" Sydney asks as you whip past her, her hands busy with mashing potatoes, but you don't stop to answer, instead rounding the corner like a woman on a mission.

"CARMEN—"

"—What?!" At the third sound of his name, Carmen finally jerks his head up from his prep station, only to be met with you head on. "What's going on, chef?" he repeats, looking back down to his station after taking in your vexed disposition and gathering that no one's dying. He puts on these sort of metaphorical blinders once he's in the kitchen and nothing, not even you, is going to distract him from what he does best. He becomes an entirely different animal in the kitchen.

"That fucking dickwad has my knife and he won't give it back. How am I supposed to—"

Still urgently chopping carrots, Carmen cuts you off. "Chef, just get another knife," he instructs, stepping around you to dump a pile of sliced carrots into the bin.

His dismissal throws you for a loop and leaves you open mouthed, protest caught in your throat. Just this morning he had been stuttering nervously, cheeks flushed as you stood waiting for him to unlock the staff door. Now he's biting and abrasive, domineering in the way he takes control of the kitchen. You know he's just doing his job, doing whatever it takes to keep his head above the water—keep everyone's head above the water, but right now you want to scream at him. "Just tell him to—"

"Yes, Chef," he provides, indicating that he's done refereeing yours and Richie's squabble. He moves across the station so that you have to step sideways to avoid being in his way.

"But I—"

"Yes, Chef?" Carmen effectively cuts you off with a hard stare, momentarily stopping his urgent chopping. His blue eyes are fixating despite their look of wild urgency.

When it becomes obvious that arguing your point further is going to get you nowhere, you nod, growling a reluctant, 'Yes, Chef.'

If Carmen notices your attitude, he either pointedly ignores it or is too busy shouting at Tina about onions to care. You grab a knife laid out at one of the empty stations, purposefully shoving Richie as you round the corner.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Mommy didn't take your side?" he calls from the expo station "Didn't fuckin' see that coming."

You ignore him, deciding that he's not worth anymore of your energy for the time being. There's an entire rack of ribs that needs to be sliced and it's going to take you twice as long with this poor excuse of a knife.

"Chef, how are those ribs coming?" Sydney calls amidst the kitchen chaos. "Doors open in fifteen minutes."

Glancing at the digital kitchen clock, panic sets into you as you realize just how much time you've lost. "Fuck," you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. "Ahh—I'm going to need at least twenty," you shout back.

"What? What's taking so long?" Sydney asks. You can hear her moving behind you, finishing up with her own prep.

"Yeah, what's takin' so fuckin' long?" Richie chimes in.

Your grip on the knife's handle tightens, but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his words. "I'm working on it, Syd," you promise her, praying you can somehow speak that confidence into existence.

Richie is still running his mouth behind you. "Y'know, maybe you just aren't cut out for this. It's not too late to go back to makin' your fancy little hors d'oeuvres up in New York."

"Screw you, Richie," you mutter, your brow furrowed as you concentrate on cutting through the ribs. The knife is hardly cutting and it's taking everything in you not to just start hacking away and be done with it.

"This ain't a cocktail party. This is a real fuckin' business, and we don't need you over here messin' us up and screwin' around—"

"Screw. You. Richie."

"What was that? Can't hear you, princess," he taunts.

Just as you turn to open your mouth, ready to snap at him, the knife hits a dull spot and slips against your grip, catching your fingers along the way. Immediately you jerk your hand back, biting back a cry. The knife clatters to the ground at your feet.

"Fucking dammit!" you exclaim, clutching your bleeding fingers with your other hand.

"Oh now you've really fuckin' done it," Richie laughs, shaking his head.

You only glare at him before muttering, "Move," as you shove past him. To his credit, he doesn't say anymore as you shoulder him out of the way.

By the time you get to the back sink, there's blood seeping from between your gloved fingers and onto the floor. You have to fight back a whimper as you peal away the latex from your skin.

"Woah, woah— what the hell??"

Hands appear beside you, grabbing your own bloody hand and wrapping it tightly in a clean kitchen rag. You close your eyes, willing yourself not to faint. The pressure stings but serves to staunch the blood flow and relieve some of your dizziness.

When you open your eyes, Carmen's blue ones are staring at you worriedly. "You good, chef?"

You close your eyes again, this time not because you're dizzy, but rather to avoid the intensity of his stare. "Yeah," you manage hoarsely, finding your voice. "Yeah. Just bandage me up okay? I've still got prep to do."

Even with your eyes closed you can still feel his eyes on you. He's so close that you can feel the brush of his body against yours.

"Yeah, okay," he finally says, but you can hear the hesitation in his voice. Immediate loss fills your body as he pulls away, but then he's pressed up against you again, holding your fingers steady as he wraps them up.

It hurts and you want so badly to just let go of the cry of pain and frustration that you're holding back. But instead you bite the inside of your cheek and watch Carmen bandage your fingers like he's done it a hundred times before. When he's done, he draws your hand up to his mouth and tears the tape with his teeth. You force back a swallow when his lips brush your skin.

"This okay, Chef?" he asks, looking up at you with those ridiculously anxious blue eyes—anxious like he's always got somewhere to be, something to do, something on his mind. Now they're focused entirely on you.

Somehow you find your voice. "Y-yeah—yeah, thank you." You pause, still staring at him, not moving. "I, um—I should go finish prep..."

"Okay," he answers softly.

"Okay."

"—Hey." Before you turn to slip out of his office, Carmen calls after you. He raises a fist to his chest, tracing it clockwise over his heart.

I'm sorry.

Your brows furrow at his apology. "Carmen, it wasn't your—"

"Yes. It was," he clarifies, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the desk. "I blew you off earlier and you got hurt because of it... So I'm sorry."

From the doorframe, you offer him a half smile.

"Apology accepted, Chef." And then you leave him before he can say anymore, slipping back out into the chaos of rush hour.

——

You do end up finishing you prep before opening. Your fingers hurt like a bitch, and you may need to visit a 24 hour clinic on your way home for a few stitches, but you make it though. Rush hour was hell, your head hurts from both screaming and being screamed at, but now the Beef is closed, the kitchen is quiet, and you can just breathe.

Slowly but surely, everyone files out of the kitchen once they finish their end of the day tasks, bidding you goodbyes and see you tomorrows as they leave—except for Richie, who you flip off once his back is turned.

The bell above the front door chimes, announcing Tina's departure, and then it's just you left tending to your station. Sydney had offered to take care of it for you, seeing as you were down a hand, but cleaning your space at the end of the day gives you peace of mind and time to cool down after all the chaos.

At some point, the lights in the back office click off and heavy foot steps make their way towards the kitchen. Carmen appears beside you, arms crossed as he watches you clean. He's quiet, observing the way you scrub the already pristine table top over and over and over. You don't learn that kind of precision from working in a place like this.

You're an anomaly to him and he doesn't know what to do with you

You certainly don't fit in here with your perfectly refined private school vocabulary and your Michelin star palette and your fucking expensive gold chain necklace that's probably worth more than the rent for his apartment.

"What're you doing here?" he finally asks.

"Wiping my station?" Your voice is leaning on the defensive side and he figures that probably has to do with Richie.

"Exactly," he concedes. "So what are you doing here? Because six months ago you were making fuckin' soufflés in the Hamptons."

This time you actually kind of laugh because that statement is not too far off from the truth. "I don't know, Carmen. I was bored?"

"You don't give up the Hamptons because you're bored."

You look up at him for the first time since he's walked up. There's no bristling anger in your eyes like there was earlier when Richie took your knife—he did and you both know it. You just look at him, really look at him, and then you set down the rag and you nod. "Just like you don't give up Noma?"

Carmen holds your heavy gaze for a while. It's as if some sort of unspoken understanding passes between the two of you and eventually he sighs, nodding. "Right."

You look around at the restaurant surrounding you, the stained floors, the rundown kitchen appliances, the framed 'let it rip' note. "Natalie, uh she told me about him—Micheal... I'm really sorry. He seemed like a good guy."

His eyes follow yours to the note, and he doesn't say anything for a minute, which isn't unusual, Carmen has always been decently shy since you met him, but it makes you wonder if it was a mistake bringing it up.

Strangely enough, this is the first time that someone's brought up Michael and he hasn't wanted to slam a door in their face. Normally, he would just nod and say something like, 'yeah, he was a good guy' and that would be his way of wiggling out of another unwelcome conversation, but he doesn't. Instead, he stares at the note and wonders for the first time since Micheal died if he should have gone to the funeral.

It made him feel like a fucking asshole for not going, but he couldn't listen to all those people saying how good it was to have him back—how happy Micheal would have been to have him back—because if Micheal hadn't gone and killed himself, he wouldn't be here anyhow. He'd still be in New York. He'd still be angry at Micheal like he is now.

Carmen sighs. "I—I wish that I had talked to him more instead of just fucking off to New York. Because after that I just hated coming back too all of this... y'know? And then it was like even when I was here, he kinda just knew that I didn't want to be here, and so we spent that time just fuckin'... at each other's throats.." He trails off, sniffing to clear the choked up feeling from his throat. "Just—who the fuck does that?"

He's asking you. Who shoots themself and doesn't even leave a note? Who shoots themself and leaves their little brother to pick up the remains of their shithole restaurant?

"Well," you begin, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. "You're talking to a girl who decided to quit her job after three years as a private chef and is now slicing spare ribs in Chicago for just over minimum wage."

The unseriousness of the confession makes him crack a smile and now he's fighting a grin off of his face. "Yeah, that was uh..." He's still chuckling, shaking his head. "That was really stupid of you. Why would you do that?"

You're fighting a smile too now, heart pumping in your chest because he's really fucking pretty when he laughs. His cheeks are flushed and his curly hair is a disheveled mess and you just want to reach over and smooth a hand through it.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip and his blue eyes don't miss the nervous habit. "Well, there's this guy..."

"Yeah?" Carmen's smiling, the tired expression on his face softened by the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, there's this guy. And I've looked up to him my entire life. He's brilliant—like really fucking brilliant. And I promised myself that if I ever got the opportunity to work for him, I would do it."

Carmen snorts softly, glancing down at the white tile floor a bit bashfully before looking back to you again. "And now you know what a freaking psycho I am, huh?"

You can see it, him retreating back into the mellow, unsure person he becomes when he's not manning an overflowing expo station, a broken freezer, and an entire staff of chefs. It's endearing how timid he is, like he almost doesn't really know himself or how he fits in anywhere outside the kitchen. "I don't think you're a psycho, Carm. I mean, I would be a little crazy too if I had what you have on my plate."

He just nods, still a little sheepish at your praise. Just like this morning, when you had caught him at the back door before opening, he doesn't know what to do with himself when you're around.

You break the silence by turning back towards your station. "I'm going to finish up here. I don't mind locking up if you don't want to stay."

Carmen watches as you lean forward onto the toes of your beat up sneakers to grab the paper towels off the overhead shelf and the hem of your hand cropped t-shirt rides up. His first instinct is to look away because the exposed flesh of your rib cage feels like something he shouldn't be seeing, much less staring at, but it's like he freezes out of panic and now he's looking at the tattoo just under your breast.

He stands there, mouth partially open to reply back to you, but it's like his tongue is numb in his mouth and he doesn't even remember what he was going to say anymore. And then it's gone, concealed again by the hem of your white t-shirt.

When you walked into the Beef two weeks ago, your tattoos had been strangely surprising to him at first. He hadn't pictured you like that in his mind—bronzed skin and tatted forearms and cherry glossed lips—just grunge enough to make anyone who passes you look twice. Now you're all he thinks about.

"Carmy. Carmy?"

You're staring at him, head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in confusion and—God, he wants to kiss you.

"Are you oka—"

"Can I kiss you?" He blurts out the question as if he won't be able to finish it if he doesn't get it all out in one breath. Like he knows that if he doesn't ask now he's never going to have the courage to do it again, and he'll be stuck shoving down these feelings for you for the rest of his life.

When you stare at him, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights, he knows he screwed up. His stomach drops and—fuck, he really needs a Tums right now. He looks away, hand reaching to his hair, eyes darting to the ceiling because he can't take the embarrassment of looking at you.

"I—fuck, I'm sorry. That was totally—um. I shouldn't have—"

"Shut up, Carmen."

"No, that was stupid of me. I—"

"Shut up so I can kiss you, you moron."

Stepping forward, your hand curls around the back of his neck, drawing him down to close the gap between the two of you. Even then you have to stand on your toes to reach him. Although the tense, anticipatory stiffness of his body against yours is screaming wait, you press your lips to his before he has the chance to back down.

It's everything that a first kiss should be—hot and sweet and a bit awkwardly reserved. You can tell he’s nervous. Nevertheless, you can't help the hum that escapes you at the feeling of his plush bottom lip pressed between your own. If given the choice, you’d never pull away from the warm taste of his mouth.

Carmen's breathing heavy, heart pounding in his chest, hand pressing into your back, pulling you closer as he kisses you impossibly harder. He's never kissed a girl before and he decides then and there that he never wants to kiss any girl that's not you.

It’s not clear which of you pulls away first—coming up for air more than anything—but it leaves you both nose to nose, mouths still inches from each other, still sharing the same air that you would had your mouths been connected.

“Carmen?” you ask softly, nose brushing his as you speak. You can feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Yeah?” he replies in same breathy tone.

“Did I mention I really like it here?”

#carmy the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto imagines

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 2 years ago

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Syd & Carmy- Romantic Beats

Preface:

Studying this I see the second season uses steps 3-7 since we had our chemical equation and met cute the 1st season. You'll see gif examples 3-7 that show the beats of the season two.

Billy Mernit defines the “seven basic romantic comedy beats” in his book Writing the Romantic Comedy. I'm observing that writing a romcom for a TV series is like a rollercoaster for beats, taking curves and dips that keep the series at a pace where the viewer is guessing. So beats repeat themselves and set themselves up for the next season.

The romantic beats are described as--

1. The Chemical Equation - The setup, there's something wrong in the protagonist's life. There's a missing piece in the main character's story. This is where we identify the protagonist's external and/or internal conflict.

2. The meet cute or catalyst - The incident that brings them together - and this should relate to the theme of the story. This meeting sets the tone for their relationship.

When the secondary lead is introduced- there should be some hints that this romantic interest is the missing piece of the Protagonist's chemical equation.

The Bear: I'd also add that with romantic comedies, the meet-cute should have some humor in it. (What’s UPS, is that in Chicago, or?) . As we talk on this platform- the meet cute was the proper example of a romcom.

3. The Sexy Complication -This is the first proper clash between the heroine and the hero. Higher stakes define the main character's goals. Typically, the external problem keeps them apart, or you can use internal conflict that keeps them apart. Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 1, a new development that raises story stakes and clearly defines the protagonist’s goal.

Season One episode Three: Syd is officially the sous chef and has a hard time with the staff. She comes in with the intention of changing The Beef for the better, however, Carmy is stuck in his old ways and past toxic experiences in the kitchen.

Season two episode three: The first clash starts 2x03 Sundae, after their technical meet cute- 2x02 pasta showing new closeness for season 2, however After 2x03 Sundae we see repeats of the sexy complication- since Syd and Carmy's relationship is the plot of the show- the stakes rise as the pressure to open The Bear is approaching and Claire comes into the picture- causing a bigger complication between Syd & Carmy.

4. The Hook. The midpoint scene sticks the two characters together. There's no way out, and this should reflect the theme of the movie.

This hints at the outcome of the relationship and gives hints of the potential between the two characters. There can be sexual tension involved or a detailed moment that shows the two characters are becoming closer.

Season one episodes Three and Five: Syd and Carmy reach an understanding and episodes three and five show vulnerability as Carmy reveals his brother was an addict and Syd shares the failure of Sheridan Road catering.

Season Two Episode Nine: After complications, Syd and Carmy reach a moment of understanding. This is the most romantically suggestive scene with prominent sexual tension.

5. The swivel - This is the moment after the hero and heroine have become closer, when their conflict comes back again, in a different form. a turning point that makes the stakes higher and hurts the main character's goal, or vice versa, leading to a changed goal. The main character is forced to choose between love and the goal.

Season one and two: in both seasons Carmy loses his cool with Sydney. The first season she walks away and the season two Syd calms Carmy down.

What's interesting is that the song Spiders (kidsmoke) by Wilco plays in both scenes giving us hints of parallels.

6. Dark Moment – This is the consequence of the swivel. The characters have to reveal private motivations, and it seems that either the love or the goal is lost forever. The main character is at their most vulnerable point.

Season One Episode 8: The revealing of private motivation occurs in 1x08 When Carmy is in al-anon. He reveals that his trying to fix the restaurant was him trying to fix the relationship with Mikey. At this point, love (Sydney) and the goal (fixing my relationship with Mikey) are lost forever. The vulnerable point is Carmy facing the chaos in his internal world.

Season Two Episode 10: I'm a fսckin'... I'm a fսckn' psycho. That's why. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fսck¡n' bullshit, right?

Wherein the consequences of the swivel decision yield disaster; generally, the humiliating scene where private motivations are revealed, and either the relationship and/or the protagonist’s goal is seemingly lost forever.

7. Joyful Defeat – reconciliation between the characters that remind the audience how important the relationship is to them, usually (but not always) with a happy ending that implies marriage – but usually at the cost of something the main character has had to sacrifice.

Season One Episode 8: Two tops? Booths?

Nuff said.

Season two: We're left with a cliffhanger for the Joyful defeat. Will the reconciliation happen in season three? Will we have a happy ending and what will Carmy sacrifice? Will he choose love or the goal? Will Syd choose love or the goal of getting the star?

Oh the slow burn is real! Storer, what are you doing here? This is a romcom!

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #carmy and sydney #chef's kiss #the bear meta #the bear #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear spoilers #sydney x carmy #platonic and messy #charged and sexy #thoughtful chaos posts

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mxmajor · 1 year ago

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Alright SydCarmy Mafia AU Premise

There are still chefs, same family restaurant and other businesses, psuedo family, but the businesses are used as a money laundering front.

Richie is still involved with drugs but is a higher ranking lieutenant, Natalie still has that finance degree and background, works at the bank as a cover but is involved.

Just like in canon, cousin Michelle is a restauranteur, something the family doesn't see as viable like real estate had been as a cover, but as things bloom for her, they see the opportunity to move into a larger bracket because a lot of money moves through fine dining establishments each week.

And with that, they invest in the beef a bit more, and when they see the nascent talent of a prodigy, they push for Carmy to be out in the world to become the canon chef we know.

Mikey hopes that being away from the family will keep Carmy on the straight and narrow, clean and unsullied by their bullshit. Mikey failed to make it beyond the Berzattos, but Carmen would be different, if he keeps him at arms distance. Little did he know, the Family was reaching further than he could push his baby brother away.

Syd is tapped after catering for a private party to stage for a CDC position at one of the BZ Group restaurants, an opportunity that could take her 20 year plan to have her own restaurant as a culinary iconoclast and cut it in half. They had inventive and successful establishments in New York, California, and here in Chicago, and if she could lead a program in one of their kitchen's to snag a F&W award, or retain and increase one of their Michelin Star kitchens...This could accelerate her career way more than micro-planing citrus.

The Restaurant group has a reputation in the city, but in the food world, that reputation is a life time opportunity. And one of the reasons for that reputation is successful, famous, nay, legendary hometown hero Carmen Berzatto that might even be her EC if she nails this. It's not like she'll work their forever, right?

Possible routes:

Shy anxious Carmy is a cover to get her to join in and she falls deep into the life before realizing what this is all a front for. he's been in on all of it and groomed to take over, he just needs a partner to expedite by his side.

Carmy is trying to keep her out by being an asshole because he doesn't want her to get sucked into their underworld as he tries to figure out if the story he was told about his brother's death was true.

Sydney witnesses something she Should Not See™, so they have her marry Carmy so she can't testify against him (fake marriage au) but they fall for each other over time as they bond over food in the menu of chaos around them.

BONUS: Mr. Berzatto was taking care of and/or his family was offered up as collateral because he owed folks money. but he is still out there and might come back 👀👀

Or he's the big bad boss behind it all but none of his kids know him or see him "for their safety"

Okay, I am handing off this baton lol.

(when I say pass the baton, i mean i'm tryna crowdsource a mafia au, please add an idea or take an idea and run with it lol.)

#sydcarmy #major bear tag #don't ask me why i wrote this instead of finishing my chapter of Who's On Family #just appreciate the times we have together #and contribute to the vision lol #sydcarmy mafia au

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tvgremlin · 5 months ago

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hi hi! if you’re still taking requests i’d love to see your take on a claire pov of sydcarmy! love your work Xx

I am and I would be happy too! This is my first time writing Claire and as a result it is very brief, but this was a popular request so another interpretation of Claire reacting to Sydcarmy is coming soon...

Smoke and Snow

It’s Christmas time in Chicago. The ground is frozen solid and she is outside, smoking against her better judgment.

Inside her mother is grilling her new boyfriend, a surgeon with sad eyes and a bright future. By this time next year, they will be engaged, but she doesn’t know that yet. For now, all she knows is that across the street, Carmen Bearzatto is also having a smoke, with his sous chef at his side.

She stares at the two of them, marveling at how they seem to act as mirrors of each other. Every movement and sigh is perfectly aligned. Sydney raises her cigarette to her mouth just as Carmy does the same, each blowing smoke in her direction.

She knocks ash onto the ground, watching it land beside her mother’s glowing lawn Santa. The garish thing looks back at her with its dead eyes. She thinks, in its own sick way, that it knows.

Knows what she couldn’t piece together with all the evidence in the world.

Carmy and Syd have finished smoking now, and his arm is around her waist. She has her head on his shoulder, the two talking in hushed tones. In the space between them hangs the truth. A truth she could never understand.

She is no idiot, she suspected something from the start. Still, it was easy to ignore how Carmy’s attention was always diverted to Sydney in public when in private he held her close and said everything she wanted to hear.

He was a fantasy to her, the culmination of some girlhood dream. He had known her since braces and glasses, and he still wanted her.

In the aftermath, she came to terms with the fact that their time together served a similar purpose for him. He got the girl his brother wanted for him, yet she didn’t make him happy.

No one did back then. Not even the woman who now stands beside him.

Or at least, that's what she wants to believe.

#sydcarmy #the bear #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #syd x carmy #fanfic #fanfic writing #claire the bear #carmy bear #carmy bearzatto fanfic #carmy fanfic

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corporatecatering · 4 months ago

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A World Of Flavors: What To Expect From A Private Chef near Sydney

Hiring a private chef near Sydney opens up all the worlds of culinary delight that satisfy every palate. The rich flavours of Italy and innovative Asian fusions to freshly prepared Australian dishes are all options. It is convenient to relax and enjoy fine dining tailored to taste without any hassle. Treat yourself. Discover the variety of cuisines enjoyed through private chefs in Sydney, and elevate your next dining experience to become something truly memorable!

#Private Chef Sydney

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thebearer · 2 years ago

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How do you think Carmy would react to living with a naked gf( she hates having to wear clothes so if she’s at home she is usually partially or fully naked)

ah so she is me??? lmao. i hate clothes. the second i get home everything is off or mostly off.

i can see him not really giving a shit tbh? it's a little like woah when it first starts to happen, but now he's like eh no big deal.

but like picturing richie and marcus and tina and sydney and ebra are coming over to try some new recipes out and have like a family there. carmen would pause, stopping them outside the door. "hey, uh, gimme one sec before you come in." and he slips inside.

they're all like??? and richie's like going inside bc "what the fuck, cousin? kid's got no manners, i swear."

and they hear him through the door. "yeah, they're here. sorry baby, i meant to text you. just, uh, put some clothes on."

they're all like????!!!!! lmao. "uh, chef, we can- we can leave." marcus nods when carmen comes back out.

"yeah, if you're busy. very nice, cousin." richie grins.

"no, it's not... no, it's good." carmen is trying to hide his blush, rolling his eyes. "just-just set up."

and you come out, smiling and nice in carmen's sweatpants and a hoodie and they're just teasing you both to no end and carmen doesn't want to say "oh no she just walks around naked" so he just lets it happen lol. not bc he's embarrassed but bc he's private ya know? possesively private to a fault that he doesn't want them to know about that... esp not richie.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff

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nerawrites · 3 days ago

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Chapter 24: Going Solo

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Ships: The bear x Fem!oc

Warnings: none (i think)

Song:Motion Pictures Sound-Radiohead

Masterlist

The apartment was quiet when Alicia woke up. For a second, she thought she had slept through work before remembering—they had the day off.

She stayed in bed longer than usual, scrolling through nonsense on her phone, trying not to think about what she had agreed to last night. The competition. Lloris. Everything she thought she had left behind.

By the time she dragged herself to the kitchen, David was already up, flipping through something on his laptop. His glasses were slightly crooked, a half-empty coffee mug sitting next to him. He barely looked up when she entered.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Alicia grabbed a mug from the shelf, ignoring him. “You find anything on your secret project?”

“Secret? No. I don’t keep secrets. Private? Maybe.” He turned the screen toward her. “Got more info on that competition, though.”

She leaned against the counter, glancing at the webpage. The name of the event was stamped in bold, sleek font—La Toque d’Or.

“Huh.”

“Huh?” David scoffed. “That’s all you got?”

“I’ve heard of it before.” She skimmed the details. “Exclusive, invitation-only. Usually low media coverage.”

David tapped the screen. “Not this year. They’re opening it up. Still invite-only, but they’re doing select media coverage. Not full reality-show bullshit, but enough to put some eyes on it.”

Alicia frowned. “And you knew this before nominating me?”

David grinned. “Nope.”

She groaned, running a hand down her face.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” David drawled. “It’s not like they’re gonna shove cameras in your face 24/7. Just interviews. Features. Maybe a few highlights on social media. You can cope. Plus you lived your whole career moving around to only show your work, shouldn’t be hard.”

Alicia shot him a glare, but he wasn’t wrong.

She sighed, scrolling further. “It says here competitors can enter as a solo chef or as part of a team.”

“Yeah, caught that too,” David said. “If you wanna drag someone else into it, you can.”

Alicia considered it. The idea of a team had its perks—more hands, shared workload, less pressure to do everything herself.

But—

“No,” she said eventually.

David raised an eyebrow. “No?”

She stared at the screen. Lloris. The name lingered in the back of her mind. She’d spent so much time running from it. But last night, spilling everything to David, something had shifted.

“I’m doing this alone.”

His lips curled slightly. “Going full Lloris then?”

Alicia exhaled. “Yeah.”

David shut his laptop with a snap. “Good. I put you under that name anyways..”

Back in Chicago

The kitchen at The Bear was as chaotic as ever. Even with Alicia gone, the place moved like a machine—yelling, clattering, the occasional curse thrown across the line. But something was missing.

Sydney felt it. So did Marcus. Even Richie, though he’d rather die than admit it.

“She still hasn’t texted back?” Marcus asked, nudging Sydney as they plated dishes.

Sydney shook her head. “Nah. Just some vague ‘I’m alive’ bullshit.”

Marcus sighed. “Man. Feels weird without her here.”

Richie snorted as he walked by. “You miss her? That freak abandoned us in crunch time.”

“Like you weren’t the first to ask where she was,” Sydney shot back.

“Shut up.”

Before the argument could escalate, Carmy walked in, looking distracted—more than usual. He had a piece of paper in his hand, skimming over it with a tight expression.

“What’s that?” Sugar asked, walking past him with a clipboard.

Carmy hesitated, then handed it to her. Sydney and Marcus leaned in, catching a glimpse of the header—La Toque d’Or.

Sydney’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a competition,” Carmy muttered. “Invitation-only. Just got this in the mail.”

Sydney snatched it from Sugar, skimming the details. “This is huge. Why do you look like someone just shot your dog?”

Carmy ran a hand through his hair. “Dunno. Just… wasn’t expecting it.”

Marcus peered over her shoulder. “Says you can enter as a solo chef or as a team.”

Carmy was quiet for a moment. Then—

“We’ll do it as a team.”

Richie blinked. “We?”

Carmy looked up. “Yeah. The Bear. All of us.”

Sydney let out a low whistle. “Shit.”

Marcus grinned. “I’m in.”

Richie crossed his arms. “This some fancy-ass food competition?”

“Yeah,” Carmy said.

A beat.

“…Alright, fuck it. I’m in.”

Sydney smirked. “Guess we’re doing this, then.”

Later, when the rush had died down, Sydney found Carmy standing alone in the kitchen, staring at the invitation like it might catch fire in his hands.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

Carmy exhaled through his nose. “Dunno. Maybe not.”

Sydney studied him. “Then why do it?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“It’s The Bear. It’s all of us. Feels right,” he finally said. But his voice lacked conviction.

Sydney folded her arms. “We barely made it through the opening without everything blowing up in our faces. And you wanna throw us into this?”

Carmy sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I just— I dunno, Syd. Maybe we need this.”

“Or maybe you need this,” she shot back. “Because you don’t know what to do with yourself unless you’re chasing some impossible shit.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s an opportunity.”

“It’s a distraction.”

Carmy looked at her then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You in or not?”

Sydney sighed. “Yeah, I’m in.”

But the doubt lingered between them, thick as smoke.

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