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thebearer · 11 months ago

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the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching.

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to.

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.”

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning.

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware.

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught.

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in.

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.”

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you.

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him.

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it.

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways.

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier.

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date.

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-”

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-”

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.”

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent.

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.”

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.”

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly.

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-”

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.”

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder.

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other.

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.”

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese.

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly.

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it.

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful.

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming.

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze.

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-”

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly.

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly.

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

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mon-chef · 1 month ago

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“Sydcarmy shippers are creating romance where there isn’t romance!”

“Carmy said Claire is peace!”

“Claire and Carmy should be endgame!”

Respectfully shut the hell up. Carmy is far too busy experiencing the horrors to be correct about anything. This man has to make fancams of Sydney in his brain just to function.

The IMMEDIATE sigh of relief after Sydney pops into his mind is actually hilarious. Carmy is a LOVERBOY.

#the bear #the bear hulu #syd x carmy #sydcarmy #carmy x syd #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #tina marrero #marcus brooks #richie jerimovich #donna berzatto #mikey berzatto #natalie berzatto #carmen berzatto

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thefanficmonster · 9 months ago

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

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

Too Much, Too Late

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

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

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

Summary: see request above

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

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The positive pregnancy test.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your and Mikey's baby.

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

Only one way to find out.

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

This is no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take it, "Hi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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springtyme · 2 months ago

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𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ♡

Welcome to my first ever October writing challenge! 🍂☕️🍁

I’m very excited, and I really hope that I’ll be able to keep up with the schedule. And also a big thank you to everyone who sent in requests ♡

Most of the fics on this list is lighthearted fluff, but pieces marked * are nsfw and only suited for 18+ readers.

𝟏. Coffee shop (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟐. Sick day (Steve Harrington x reader) 𝟑. Rainy afternoon (Carmy Berzatto x reader) 𝟒. Movie night (Simon Riley x reader) 𝟓. Morning drive (Emily Prentiss x reader) 𝟔. IKEA “date” (Kyle Garrick x reader) 𝟕. Sweater weather (Sydney Adamu x reader) 𝟖. Can’t sleep (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟗. Train ride (Aaron Hotchner x reader) 𝟏𝟎. Huddling for warmth * (Arthur Morgan x reader) 𝟏𝟏. Cuddles (Kyle Garrick x reader) 𝟏𝟐. A walk in the woods (Eddie Munson x reader) 𝟏𝟑. Decorating (Joel Miller x reader) 𝟏𝟒. Comfort food (John Price x reader) 𝟏𝟓. The orange peel theory (Chef Luca x reader) 𝟏𝟔. Meet cute (Derek Morgan x reader) 𝟏𝟕. Lazy Sunday (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟏𝟖. Family expansion (Johnny MacTavish x reader) 𝟏𝟗. Hayride (Steve Harrington x reader) 𝟐𝟎. Halloween candy (Roman Roy x reader) 𝟐𝟏. Trick or treat (Aaron Hotchner x reader) 𝟐𝟐. Baking (… x reader) 𝟐𝟑. Party confessions (Sydney Adamu x reader) 𝟐𝟒. Pumpkin carving (… x reader) 𝟐𝟓. Horror movie comfort * (Mikey Berzatto x reader) 𝟐𝟔. Roommates (… x reader) 𝟐𝟕. Haunted house (Spencer Reid x reader) 𝟐𝟖. Pumpkin patch (Richie Jerimovich x reader) 𝟐𝟗. Scary movie marathon (Eddie Munson x reader) 𝟑𝟎. Costume party * (… x reader) 𝟑𝟏. Harvest celebration * (Joel Miller x reader)

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etherealising · 1 year ago

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chapter three | lavender vanilla

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: christmas dinner commences, you and carmy put your differences aside for a night.

wc: 6.9k

The sound of laughter could be heard through the door of Donna’s bedroom. The two women occupying it caught up with each other like no time had passed at all. You were laying down on the end of Donna’s bed, elbow propped up so your hand could hold your head up. Tiff laying in front of you sitting up slightly from you adjusting her pillows when you had first made an appearance in the room.

“Wait so Richie actually blew up your mom’s microwave?” The words coming out between the laughs that had been wracking Tiffany’s body. Eyes glistening with unshed tears as she listened to your account of the story.

You sat up rapidly head nodding to confirm Tiff’s question, “Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and I up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.” You paused as you couldn’t stop giggling at the memory, “He couldn’t find any plates, so he put fucking foil in the microwave, and by the time we got home the house was full of smoke and there were scorch marks on the wall.” You couldn’t help but to lean over clenching your stomach at the belly aching laugh the memory induced. Tiff doing no better hand gently cradling her bump as she tried to catch her breath.

Finally getting enough air into her lungs Tiff spoke up, “Wha-What did your mom do?” She searched your eyes waiting to hear your explanation. Your own laughter had finally settled down allowing you to finish your story, “Absolutely nothing! My mom was so sweet on Richie he could’ve burnt the house down and she would’ve thanked him for it!” The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.

The two of you had finally calmed down sitting in the ambience that a memory from your younger years left behind. Tiff did her best to sit up, careful not to move too quickly in case it induced a bout of nausea. Her hands reached out gently clasping yours in her embrace, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here with us today.” The slight squeeze she sent your hands conveying the raw emotion she felt, the small sad smile gracing her lips doing their best to comfort you.

You nodded, sending your own small smile her way, eyes quickly leaving hers to dart around the room, not comfortable enough to see the earnestness in her blue eyes. You cleared your throat trying to ground yourself, “Ahem, yeah…yeah it's a little weird, first Christmas without her and everything.” You let out a pathetic little laugh doing your best to not let the gloomy feeling settle over the room.

You squeezed Tiff’s hands back finally finding her eyes again, “Speaking of, she actually made something for you-well for the baby actually.” You motioned to Tiff’s stomach trying to move the conversation along to something much more light-hearted. “I’ll just go get it yeah, I want you and Richie to open it together.” Tiff nodded eyes misting at your mom’s selflessness in what must have been a debilitating time for her.

Smiling at Tiff one last time you quickly got up to make your way downstairs to where Carmy had hang your coat and bag. You made your way down stairs laughter and loud voices coming from the direction of the living room. You made it to the closet where your belongings were quickly grabbing your keys out of your tote bag you debated slipping your coat on before ultimately deciding it wouldn’t be necessary. You could hear Mikey’s voice as you made your way out the door, he and Richie recounting one of their many tales. You quickly slipped through the door making sure it closed behind you as to not let any cold air in.

Rushing to your car you popped the trunk reaching for the Christmas themed gift bag. You reached up to shut your trunk wanting to hurry and get back inside when your eyes landed on the large matte black box sitting in your trunk. A matching black bow and envelope atop of it, the white ink that spelled out Carmy’s name glaring back at you.

You let go of the trunk letting out an exasperated sigh. You hand planned on personally giving him the gift and watching as he opened it, wanting to see his reaction. But as your brain thought about the argument you had with him earlier, that hope quickly dwindled. You sat the gift bag on top of the box before reaching to pick up the box itself, shutting your trunk and locking your car. The sound of another car door closing caught your attention, Pete making his way towards you from across the street, hand going up in a little wave to greet you. You smiled racing your hand holding your car keys to return his greeting.

Deciding to wait for him so you could walk in together, your eyes took in the aluminum tray grasped in his hands, “Oh shit.” The expletive left your lips as Pete finally took his place by your side, his wide goofy grin drawing your eyes, he balanced the tray in one hand to give you a side hug that you willingly leaned into. “Baby you look great! How’ve you been?” You smiled, seeing Pete before re-entering the house was like a breath of fresh air. The two of you began your trek up the sidewalk.

“Doing my best Pete. Um what cha got in your hands there?” Your head nodding to the tray held in his hands. Pete followed your vision before smiling back at you “Tuna casserole! Couldn’t come empty handed you know.” Pete’s happy go lucky energy bringing a small smile to your face, the two of you stopped before entering the house. You adjusted the box in your hands, free hand reaching out to gently squeeze Pete’s bicep.

“Oh you poor kind soul, they’re gonna fuck you up in there.” The words cause Pete’s smile to falter as you send him a toothy one of your own before walking through the door and holding it open for Pete to walk through. As you both walked through the front entrance you caught the tail end of what sounded to have been a hostile conversation, Pete stealing the show by making his presence known. You had half the mind to leave Pete to defend himself, but a part of you would’ve felt bad for letting someone as sweet as Pete take the heat alone. You walked around Pete sitting on the arm of the chair Mikey was sitting in, his arm going to wrap around your waist unconsciously.

“You know it’s seven fishes, right Pete?” Mikey’s question drew the rest of the room's attention to the tray Pete was still happily holding. The room burst with voices as almost everyone took turns berating Pete. You leaned back slightly so you weren’t blocking Mikey’s view before turning your head in Richie’s direction hoping to gain his attention.

You reached behind Mikey’s back to pinch Richie’s arm his eyebrows shooting up an offended look on his features as his head turned to you, “What the fuck was that for Baby? Pete’s the one with the eighth fish.” You rolled your eyes hand grabbing the gift bag from its place on the box, maneuvering around Mikey’s imposing body before handing it off to Richie, “Merry Christmas Richie, its for you and Tiff so don’t open it without her,” You scolded raising your eyebrows to further cement your message. “It's from mom, she um, she didn’t get to finish it so I apologize if my knitting skills didn’t do it justice.” The last part quickly added on in a joking tone as you noticed Richie’s eyes taking on a solemn look to them.

He gently grabbed the gift bag out of your hand, a slight nod sent in your direction as he gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you Baby, means a lot.” You smiled back quickly, turning back to the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any more unwanted emotions.

Carmy’s voice breaking through the onslaught of shit Pete was getting, “Hey, family. Come on, let’s sit. Okay dinner’s ready, alright.” Your eyes connected with his baby blues as you subtly tried to adjust the envelope sitting on the box so the bow could hide the recipient’s name. Your gaze was snatched away from Carmy as your attention was directed to Mikey who was whispering in your ear. Carmy did his best not to let the sight bother him, Mikey drilling his ass in the pantry earlier about what he accused the two of you of. It was hard not to though when you had so comfortably leaned into Mikey’s body whispering your own secret back into his ear, the sight of Mikey’s thumb rubbing gentle circles in the material of your shirt that was covering your waist causing Carmy’s head to spin, quickly removing his attention to Pete to ease his insecurities.

You hadn’t noticed Carmy’s eyes glued to you as you exchanged hushed whispers with Mikey, “What the fuck did you end up buying him?” Mikey’s words caressed your lips as his free hand tapped against the present sitting in your lap. You followed his hands before whispering back to him, “Something that I’m not even sure was worth saving up like 10 paychecks for this shit.” You scoffed feeling a bit miffed about the present since you and Carmy were still on uncertain terms. Mikey nodded a smile gracing his lips as he softly bumped his head into yours, “He’ll appreciate it Baby, I know he will.” You sent him a hopeful smile, you may have been annoyed with the youngest Berzatto and his antics, but you really did want him to like the gift.

“Yo Baby, Baby.” Your eyes found Carmy’s as he called for your attention, “What is that? What the fuck is Pete holding?” You quickly looked at Pete feeling bad that he was on trial before finding Carmy’s eyes again, a small smile finding your lips as you sent a shrug in his direction, not wanting to be the one to rat Pete’s good intentions out.

Carmy modded lips pursing as he wiped his hands down his face as he turned his attention to Steve knowing he’d give him a straight answer, “You’re gonna be upset, but his heart was in the right place, Carm. It’s a tuna casserole.” The slight flush you could see creeping up Carmy’s neck indicating the toll this mishap was taking on him.

You leaned into Mikey more, settling into a more comfortable position as you drowned out the rest of Pete’s trial. You were ready for the day to be over and you hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, you could feel your eyes slowly drifting shut as Mikey’s warm body pressed into your side, each rise and fall of his broad chest pulling you into the purgatory before sleep and consciousness.

The sound of Sugar’s voice jumping onto the tuna casserole bandwagon roused you from the little peacefulness you were beginning to find. You watched with drowsy eyes as she snatched the dish from his hands presumably disposing of it, you softly pat Mikey’s thigh before removing yourself from your seat intending to find somewhere to drop Carmy’s present off at. You stopped in the threshold of the door sending Pete a small smile, “If it makes you feel better Donna threatened to beat my mom’s ass when we showed up with collard greens and baked Mac n cheese our first Christmas here.” You gave a soft pat to his elbow hoping the anecdote helped him feel someone better.

You left the living room, eyes looking around for a practical spot to leave Carmy’s present. You debated leaving it on the small side table in the hallway, but you weren’t too sure if anyone would give it a second thought. Carmy stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he found you standing in the hallway, the matte black box still clutched in your hands. He had half a mind to hide out in the kitchen until you left but knew he’d probably get shit from his mom about it.

He cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he took a few steps to lessen the distance between you. His hand raising up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours as he prepared himself to interact with you, “Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. Is your mom doing okay? Was the trip out here too much for her?”

You stared at Carmen eyes cold and unwavering, you knew his question held no malicious intent but it still felt like a slap to the face. The silence from you finally caused Carmy’s eyes to meet your own, the soft color of your irises giving nothing away.

“She died eight months ago Carmen.” Carmy felt like his whole world had stop the voices in the background drowinng out as the bubble the two of you were standing in was filled with nothing but silence.

Carmy’s arm raised his head forcefully running through his hair, head darting to the side to compose himself. “Shit Baby, I’m sorry I-I didn’t know.”

You nodded eyes straying to the present in your hands swallowing the lump in your throat, “How would you?” An out of place laugh leaving your lips as you looked at Carmy, the kicked puppy expression on your face making you feel a little bad. Letting out a sigh you shook your head, “I’m sorry Carmy, that wasn’t fair.”

Carmy copied your motions, his own hand shaking as he reached out a gentle unsure hand to lay on top of yours, “No no, uh I think I deserved that one.” His boyish smile doing its best to offer you some form of comfort in this moment. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, the smile you hadn’t seen in so long unconsciously causing one to appear on your own lips, head dropping to the calloused hand gently on yours.

The hand quickly retreated to its owner, Carmy not wanting to push anymore boundaries, eyes looking at the box one more time a scapegoat from this conversation, “Uh so what’s in the box?” His hand gestured to the rather large decorative box that looked quite fancy now that he could see it up close.

You let out a shy chuckle, “It's uh actually for you. Merry Christmas.” You held out the box to him urging him to take it out of your hands. His eyes shot down to the box, surprised you had even thought about him, “If you don’t feel like opening it now I could just leave it in your room.” Your head motioning up the stairs.

Carmy stepped back nodding his head, “Uh yeah please if you don’t mind.” He sent you an awkward smile, guilt creeping up his chest. You smiled turning to head up stairs and drop his present off, he called out to you as made it halfway up the stairs. You stopped turning to face him, “I uh, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

Carmy watched as you drew your lips up into a broad smile. He knew it was fake though, that small sparkle wasn’t in your eyes, the edges of them not crinkling either the way he had once been used to your pretty teeth not making an appearance for him either. He watched as you sent him a small shrug, “It’s okay Carmy, I wasn’t expecting one anyway.” You resumed your journey upstairs to his room.

Carmen was left alone at the bottom of the staircase, eyes still glued to the spot you were just minutes ago. He closed his eyes trying to get a deep breath into his lungs. Carmy was trying to understand how he had ever deserved to once have you in his life, he was a grade A fucking asshole to you, and you still treated him with the same love and thoughtfulness you always had. Carmy made a decision in that moment, as soon as this night was over, he was buying you a fucking Christmas present.

You closed the door behind you as you exited Carmy’s childhood room, the air of nostalgia pressing down on you while you were in there almost suffocating you. You had been in there entirely too long, easily getting caught up in how much easier life was when you and Carmy used to build pillow forts and tell ghost stories in there. You had meant to just place the present at the foot of his bed and go, but you found yourself getting caught up in the memories and flipping through the various culinary books that had been sitting on the nightstand paying extra close attention to the pages that had been tabbed.

By the time you made it to the dining room everyone had sat down and the only empty seat was to the right of Sugar and directly across from Carmy. You walked in brows pitched together at the commotion that could be heard, eyes locking with Carmy’s at the same time something aggressively hit your thigh.

A chorus of “Michael” could be heard around the dining room. You looked down at the sound of metal clanging against metal, one fork laying next to your foot another a little ways in front of it. Bending down you scooped the two forks up in your hand. You looked around the table even more confused than you already were eyes darting to Mikey as he threw his arms open in greeting, “Baby! Nice of you to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?” Your eyes flashed to the forks in your hand before taking in everyone’s expressions around the table.

You had no clue what you had just walked into. You looked in Carmy and Nat’s direction, the two of them subtly shaking their heads. Your eyes found Mikey’s again a little unnerved by the look in his eyes, “They were just on the floor so I’ll just go wash them off real qui-.”

The sound of palms slamming against the table cut off your explanation causing you to flinch where you were standing, eyes still glued to Mikey, “Sorry Baby, I’m sorry,” his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just hand me the forks alright, don't needa wash ‘em off,” You gulped your head nodding slowly as you took the few steps in Mikey’s direction. He carefully took them from your grip, a mocking smile pulling at his lips.

You gave him a small nod quickly retreating to your seat. You shuffled your chair in Stevie helping to push the back of it. All was silent for a moment as everyone looked at each other, you doing everything in your power to avoid anyone’s eyes. A quiet laugh broke the silence followed a whispered “Of fucking course.”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to Lee eyes zeroing in on the older man, “What did you just say?” The question sounded more like a demand to your ears. Lee laughed again shrugging his shoulders turning his own eyes to glare at Mikey, “I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

An echo of “Lee,” and “What the fuck,” could be heard from both Richie and Cicero, one trying to the diffuse the situation, the other not settling for the unwarranted disrespect thrown at you. Your head shot up a frown decorating your features eyes locking on Carmy’s as he shook his a head a plea for you to ignore it and not further feed into the chaos

You ignored Carmy turning in your chair to face Lee, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Lee?” Stevie’s hand reached up to lightly pat your shoulder trying to calm you down before aggressively being shrugged off.

Lee faced you with a sardonic smile pressing into his lips “Is somebody gonna tell her? Do I have to tell her?” He looked around the table looking for anyone to take the reins from him, “I’m sorry that nobodies honest with you sweetheart, but you’re just a glorified lap dog.” He shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “Just a bitch he keeps on a leash.”

Your mouth opened a little bit confused as to how this conversation had become a personal attack on you. Everyone at the table had brought forth different reactions after that revelation, anyone who knew Mikey knew he didn’t take kindly to disrespect thrown your way. You felt a foot nudge yours under the table taking you away from the ensuing chaos. You turned to Sugar who was focused on the scene in front of her too worried about Mikey to be paying attention to you. You felt the nudge again, eyes finding Carmen's eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.

The two of you were drawn back to the argument before you as the two men began berating each other again, voices growing louder by the second. You watched Mikey’s face lose any sort of emotion as Lee took a shot at his drug use. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at Mikey’s reaction, you couldn’t lie you thought both men were being extremely childish but you hated how that was one of the things people latched onto when purposely trying to hurt Mikey.

The table remained silent; the only sound filling the room was the ticking of a clock in the background, everyone doing their best to not cause any reasons to incite more violence. The anxiety caused you to bounce your leg up and down unsure as to where the rest of this night was going, you felt a foot gently tap the toe of your shoe, something Carmy used to do whenever you needed reassurance that everything would be okay and other forms of physical contact were impossible.

You watched as Mikey pawned Pete’s fork from its set place, an uproar going around the table pleading with Mikey. You sat there silently watching the scene if 10 other people hadn’t already gotten through to Mikey, you were sure and 11th voice joining the mix would be completely useless at this point.

Sugar’s voice cut through the chaos attention zeroed in on Mikey, “Michael. Please don’t do this.” You watched as Mikey focused his attention on Sugar, “I love you.” Being her final plea as Mikey seemed to be weighing his options. The discourse between the two continued as everybody watched with bated breath waiting to see what the next move would be.

Steve’s unwarranted giggle broke Michael’s focus, his rush of apologies being brushed off by Mikey all in the name of fun. Cicero decided he might be the one to finally get through to Mikey playing his hand at mediator. You watched Mikey’s erratic behavior in silence, you weren’t usually privy to this side of Mikey, never being in town long enough to catch one of his episodes. It scared you, and it wasn’t necessarily Mikey that was scaring you but knowing that his switch could be flipped in such a timely manner that had you worrying about his safety.

The argument being nowhere near resolved as Lee’s constant instigating kept fueling the fire. Mikey’s sudden movement to stand up caused your heart to race, you honestly couldn’t give two shits about Lee’s wellbeing, your only concern was Mikey and what was going through his head at that moment.

You held your head in your hands that were propped up on the table by your elbows, the impending headache beginning to make an appearance. The animal noises coming from Mikey’s direction doing nothing to ease the ache behind your eyes. Doing your best to drown out Lee’s constant attack on Mikey’s character.

The clapping around the table drawing your head up as Donna danced into the dining room, you felt so exhausted you couldn’t even muster up a fake smile to appease her. “What did I miss?” Donna laughed as she made her way to her seat, a quiet “nothing” being her answer. “I missed something,” she said while sitting in her designated spot.

Donna’s eyes met yours, letting out another laugh “Jesus you look fucking miserable Baby. I definitely missed something.” You let out a small chuckle forcing your lips into a pathetic smile, you hand coming up to play with your own fork that was sat on the place mat, “Nothing Mama D, just Lee being a fucking cunt.”

The table fell quiet any hope for a somewhat peaceful family dinner squandered by your remark. All eyes flocked to Donna as she let out a full belly laugh, hand coming down to hit the table. The same hand moving up to point at you, “Now that’s fucking funny Baby.” A shit eating grin stretching across your face, Carmy letting out an exasperated sigh at his mom feeding into your antics.

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie’s about to say grace, Ma.” Mikey interjected trying to stir Christmas dinner back on his rightful course, Donna looked appeased eyes happily finding Steve’s figure as she waited for him to begin. A small back and forth between Mikey and Stevie ensued before that latter began his prayer.

“Um..Hey. Uh.. that we’re all…” Michelle’s laugh interrupting her partner causing you to laugh but quickly stopping at the soft pinch on your thigh earned from Sugar. You fell silent as you listened to Stevie give what seemed more like an awkward ramble rather than a prayer.

You could feel Carmy’s eyes darting across your figure as Stevie gave his explanation of what he thought the seven fishes symbolized. “I think that spending time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them.” You had looked up in that moment, eyes connecting with Carmy’s piercing blue ones. Neither of you gave into the urge to look away, instead drinking each other in like two plants feeling the first drop of rain after a drought.

Your attention both drawn away by Donna’s quiet sniffles a chorus of praises sent in her direction in order to calm her aching heart.

“You okay?” Natalie’s question causes you to flop back in your chair, eyes clenching shut. You knew all Nat had was good intentions and would always be the first one to put Donna’s mental well-being first, but you also knew what it felt like to feel so overstimulated that those two measly would send you in a downward spiral.

“Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you ask me that? Do I not look okay Natalie?” Donna’s mood shifted just as quickly as it had been the whole day. Her unknown limit was reached in the span of a minute.

“Not really.” Michelle’s subtle shade drew a hardly restrained laugh out of you, “Oh, fuck you Michelle.” Donna snapped before setting her sights on you, “Is something funny Baby? Hmm?” The question causes the lingering smile to immediately drop your back going straight against the chair, your head quickly shaking back and forth throat clearing before answering Donna, “No ma’am.” You admitted head still on a swivel to ease Donna’s agitation.

You glanced at Carmy, his whole being sunken in as he looked at you as if your existence was exhausting him at this moment. Regardless of Carmen’s look you know your mom would’ve crucified your ass for walking into Donna Berzatto’s house and feeling comfortable enough to disrespect her not only to her face, but with a bunch of her peers around.

“Are you motherfuckers okay?” Donna continued on letting her subdued rage out the table silent so as to not enrage her any further. “Fuck you!” The smashing of glass as the plate hit the ground causing you to flinch, leg knocking into Carmy’s from the sudden noise, his knee tapping yours twice to reassure you everything would be fine.

Donna made her exit while berating Sugar, who sat there speechless unaware of why her need to make sure her mom was well was taken as a personal attack. Lee’s unprovoked comment about Donna’s tirade irritating you along with Michelle’s comment about it being her worst moment.

It was funny to you how each and everyone sitting at this table would drag themselves here every year. To sit in Donna’s house, to eat Donna’s food. To reap the rewards of the countless hours of Donna’s hard work, only to dismiss her because she had become so overstimulated the only reaction she knew to give was unadulterated rage.

You saw Mikey’s hand move before the fork flew across the table narrowly missing Lee’s head. The older man jumping up no longer tolerating the eldest Berzatto’s antics, Mikey following suit the clattering of the dishes loud as he threw his side of the table. The two men trying to force themselves out of the arms of the people holding them back seemingly ready to tear each other apart.

Silence fell upon the room as a loud crash was heard, the screeching of tires following after. You stood up from your seat mouth dropping open at the Mercedes Benz now sitting in the dining room. Mikey’s voice screaming at Donna to open the door as Sugar tightly grasped your arm lingering on the table, trying to ground herself. The two of you are the only remaining guests still sitting down. Your eyes followed Carmy’s as he stared blankly at the fork lodged into a cannoli.

Your head was pounding at this point, the small headache from earlier now feeling more like a migraine. You slipped your arm from Sugar’s grasp removing yourself from the dining room table as quietly as you could, you quickly walked to the front door. Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk out that door and not come back, to protect your own peace. You plopped down on the porch step head resting against your knees, as much as you wanted to leave, your heart wouldn’t allow you to leave the Berzatto siblings to this mess alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?” Sugar asked one final time as her and Pete were standing in the open doorway. “Pete will take you to the airport in a couple of hours.” You smiled pulling Sugar into a hug, the two of you lingering in the other’s embrace a much needed hug after the day you had.

You pulled back, placing a kiss against her cheek, “Get home Nat, I’ll have Mikey drop me off.” You could tell she was ready to protest but Pete grabbed her elbow gaining her attention, “She’s right you need rest.” You nodded in agreement with Pete, happy that Nat had found someone who would always put her first.

“Listen to Pete Nat, I promise I’ll be fine,” You gave her hand a squeeze the uncertainty still clinging to her features before she let out an exhausted sigh head nodding as she pulled you into one last quick hug. “Call me as soon as you get home okay?” It was your turn to nod, urging the two of them out the door before closing and locking it behind them.

You leaned your head against the cool surface of the door, you had no desire to sit on a plane for four hours, but you also had no desire to extend your stay in Chicago for longer than needed. Sighing you made your way into the kitchen to make sure all the appliances were turned off before flipping off the lights and making your way to the stairs.

The closing of a door caught your attention, your eyes shooting up and landing on Carmy’s tired face, the bags under his eyes seeming to have darkened from the stress of the day. He stopped in his tracks looking at you as well, eyes not blinking for a moment, “You’re still here?” His question caused you to frown confused at the hostile question.

His eyes darted across your face, throat clearing, “No, I uh didn’t mean it like that. Just thought you would’ve been gone by now.” You nodded understanding where he was coming from. “I’m actually looking for Mikey, have you seen him? He’s supposed to take me to the airport.”

Carmy felt his jaw clench at the mention of Mikey, he was getting real fucking tired of hearing about the two of you together. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much but he hadn’t expected to be spending his first Christmas home in a while worrying about Mikey’s role in your life.

“Uh, Mikey took off a bit ago. I don’t think he’ll be home anytime soon.” You felt your eyes instinctively close a tired sigh escaping through your lips. The last thing you wanted to do was head to the airport this early and wait for your flight. You had hoped you’d be able to catch a quick nap before heading out.

“I could, ahem, I could drive you.” You watched as Carmy ran a hand through his hair, eyes looking everywhere but you, “I mean only if you want though you know?” You felt a small smile tug at your lips, Carmy's awkward behavior endearing to you, you could tell he felt self-conscious about even offering up such an idea, and you understood, it was kind of out of left field for two people who hadn’t been on the best of terms.

“Honestly Carmy I would fucking love that,” You smiled in his direction thankful that you could count on one of the Berzatto brothers. “Um do you think I can take a shower though, kind of just wanna wash the day off.” You gave a small chuckle to try and alleviate any tension your request may have caused.

You watched Carmy’s head nod rapidly, words failing him in that moment. He turned heading to his childhood room expecting you to follow in his footsteps. You entered behind him, the room feeling impossibly smaller with the two of you now taking up space. You watched Carmy frantically move around the room returning to your side with a stack of clothes in his hand, you smiled gratefully taking the clothes from his hand before making your way towards the en suite.

Carmy watched as you closed the door behind you, hands moving to run down his face as his brain tried to piece together how after everything that had gone down today, you were taking a shower in his childhood bathroom.

You stepped out of the shower quickly wrapping the fluffy towel that you had found under the sink around your body. Your hand reached up to wipe the steam off the mirror, you stood there for a moment taking in your appearance grateful to have taken a shower but a little nervous about spending time in close quarters with Carmy after being apart for so long.

Your eyes turned to the pile of clothes sitting atop the countertop, you took inventory of the items. A white tee shirt that you just knew hugged Carmy deliciously, sweats that were sure to be baggy on your frame, a pair of socks and boxers you hoped had been washed prior to being offered to you.

The lotion bottle sitting next to the sink caught your attention, not giving it a second thought as you reached for Carmy’s signature scent lathering it on your body and quickly getting dressed. You exited the bathroom throwing your damp towel in the hamper next to the bathroom door. Taking a step into the room your eyes found Carmy sitting on his twin sized bed, legs propped up as a book rested on his knees, highlighter clenched between his teeth as he raptly read his book.

It wasn’t the position that kept your focus though. It was the tank top that showed off his toned biceps, shoulders sculpted just right. His signature gold chain complimenting the white tank top. You did your best to stop staring, eyes skating across his ink covered skin as an excuse to keep checking him out.

“You’re staring.” Your eyes shot to Carmy’s face, his eyes still stuck on his book. You cleared your throat gaining his attention, hand gesturing to the door behind you, “I hope you don’t mind I kind of used your shower gel…and your lotion.” Carmy nodded listening to you speak, “I drew the line at your 2in1 Head and Shoulders though, that was a real disappointment Carmen.” You sent him a teasing smile as you made your way to his bedroom door.

“Wait where are you going?” You stopped looking back at Carmy confusion washing over your face, “I was just gonna nap on the couch, I don’t want to intrude in your space any longer,” You calmly explained. Carmy stared at you for a few minutes, bright eyes drilling holes into your own, you watched as he moved to the opposite side of the bed before patting the spot he had just been in “Just uh, nap here okay?” You felt your heart rate pick up at the gesture, a little annoyed that basic human decency had your heart trying to race out of your chest.

Carmy raised his eyes in your direction waiting for you to take the spot. You quickly shuffled over, adjusting the pillow so you could lay down comfortably. You laid down on your right side, head facing Carmy, studying his face as he read. Watching as every few minutes he would highlight a sentence he probably found particularly interesting. His eyes so focused on what was in front of him you almost wondered if his body remembered how to blink. Your eyes traced down the side of his face, gliding down his neck and landing on his gold chain that caused your body to warm, your tongue peeking out unconsciously to lick your lips.

Continuing your path across Carmy’s shoulder your hand reached up to gently caress his ‘773’ tattoo. Index finger tracing every number before making its way down to what appeared to be a measuring cup holding the world.

Carmy’s head shot in your direction at the first touch of your soft finger against his skin, he watched your finger carefully tracing the ink lining his arms. He saw the concentration on your face doing his best to hold back a sigh at the feel of your skin against his. He had to convince himself to not reach out and push the hair out of your face to get a clear view of what you looked like at this angle. Carmy allowed you to continue your investigation, his own eyes darting across the visible side of your face, eyes falling to your pulse point imagining what it would feel like to place his hand there. His eyes were drawn to the medium sized ‘B’ in a typewriter-like font painted in the space behind your ear.

Carmy shakily reached out hand cupping the left side of your neck as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the single letter, “Baby?” You looked up at Carmy eyes meeting his as he tapped the ink behind your ear to signify what he was questioning. You gulped feeling the tension in the air as his eyes searched back and forth between your own.

“It could stand for Berzatto if you wanted it to.” You weren’t sure where the confidence to allow that whisper to leave your lips came from, but you weren’t going to pretend you regretted it.

You watched Carmy’s Adam's apple bob up and down. The grip of his hand tightening against your neck momentarily as he coughed before removing his hand. Eyes leaving yours as he shut the book still laying in his lap and placed it on the bedside table, “Ahem, It's late, get some rest I’ll wake you when it's time to leave.” You were given no time to interject as Carmy turned off his bedside lamp and turned so his back was facing you.

You sighed eyes now piercing the space between his shoulder blades. Leaning forward you pressed a small gentle kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. “Goodnight Carmen. Sweet dreams.” You turned as well, not even being able to face his back.

Carmy’s breath caught in his throat, your lips feeling as if they had been branded into his skin. He took the chance adjusting his own body around, the size of his childhood bed causing the two of you to be pressed flushed together. The soft gasp you let out causing his heart to race his mind going a mile a minute, thoughts doing their best to talk him out of whatever the hell he thought he was doing right now.

His arm found its way around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, your backside pretty much in his lap at this point. Neither of you said a word. Carmy's face made its home in the crook of your neck. The faint scent of your lavender and vanilla perfume lulling him into a dreamlike state.

a/n: goodness did i hate the first draft of this chapter : ( and i still hate this draft, but the carmy x reader fluff at the end made me feel better lol. the family dinner truly killed me though and i’m so glad to be done with the christmas arc. i hope you all enjoy please like/reblog/comment or interact in whatever way you feel comfortable. i appreciate you all so much thank you for the support! 💜

idk if this needed to be said or not but this is obviously and AU at this point lol

tag list: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @gcidrvsh @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder @kailyn-g05 @khena

i hope i got everyone, strikethrough means i couldn’t tag : (

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #platonic!mikey berzatto x reader #platonic!richie jerimovich x reader #fem!reader #carmen berzatto fluff #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] 3

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bearsinpotatosacks · 1 month ago

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Some things from my Mikey lives AU

(context: Richie finds Mikey before he kills himself, he gets him into rehab, Richie and Mikey are dysfunctional as Mikey wants to pretend nothing happened whereas Richie's an anxious mess. They have a big fight, Richie gets wankered, they sort things out and realise they both love each other)

Sydney assumes that Richie and Mikey are married (and on the verge of divorce) when she first starts at the Beef

Eva calls Mikey her Mikey Bear instead of dad or step dad. When he picks her up from school, she introduces him as "This is my Mikey Bear" and gets confused when people don't know what she means

Richie and Mikey sitting outside of Eva's ballet class very out of place with the suburban mums. Talking shit about how bitchy they are

They get married very quietly, as neither of their churches do gay marriages. Donna isn't invited and she doesn't know until Mikey let's it slip

Richie encourages Mikey to apply to be a registered guardian of Eva

Richie is in Mikey's phone as "Goddess of Agriculture"

Richie starts learning to cook after Mikey comes out of rehab, especially Polish and Ukrainian dishes

#richie jerimovich #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #the bear #richie x mikey #mikey lives au #eva jerimovich #donna berzatto

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bbruisesamethyst · 4 months ago

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the bear is my roman empire for REAL <3

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heavenbarnes · 4 months ago

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Lucky you!

"The Bear" characters x reader

Contains: The Lucky star of Chicagoland. Tales of loving working in a one-time sandwich shop, come gourmet restaurant.

(Some parts may contain explicit references, this blog is 18+)

(Each part will be standalone and focus on a different character. Does not need to be read all together to make sense, you can pick and choose- however, it will be noted which parts pair well together.)

The series [COMING SOON]: You should be so Lucky - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x reader Just Lucky, I guess? - Sydney "Syd" Adamu x reader Feeling Lucky? - Marcus Brooks x reader Third time Lucky - Richie Jerimovich x reader I'd rather be Lucky than good - Michael "Mikey" Berzatto x reader

(As each part is standalone, the individual parts will not receive sequels.)

#some call it a commitment i call it forcing myself back into writing #i don't foresee these being 'smut' as such but will likely have adult themes #these are more so going to be character studies but you're there!#i will update this as new parts are added :)#the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #sydney adamu x reader #marcus brooks x reader #richie jerimovich x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader

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fandomnerd9602 · 6 months ago

Note

Tara x !GNnegan persona Reader

showing up after Richie betrayal where everyone thought the reader died at the beginning of the movie and gives Richie the glenn treatment

The reader gives them a refresher on who they are, starting with they are Tara's boyfriend

Amber: who the f—k are you?!

Y/N readies his bat…

Y/N: I’m the guy you tried to kill because Tara chose me over you

Tara hides behind Y/N…

Richie tries to attack only to receive a face full of wood and nails…

Amber tries to aim only for Y/N to knock the gun out of her hands and smack her with the same bat…

Sam: Tara, you got yourself quite a boyfriend

Tara: I know

Y/N hugs her tight, gently rubbing her back reassuringly…

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #amber freeman #mikey madison #ghostface #richie kirsch #jack quaid

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juuuulez · 7 months ago

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🎧 | are we still friends?, michael berzatto.

don’t get green skin (green skin), keep contact (keep contact) / don’t say, "goodbye, smell you later" (bye, later) / nah, i can't / i don't want to end this season on a bad episode.

writing this was really fucking brutal for me. i’ll do something nice and sweet another time because this was rooouuughh.

Established Mikey/You, platonic Richie/You, generally just sad stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

Being with Mikey was warm. That’s the only way you could describe it. Warm in the way he’d look at you, the way he smiled, laughed. His tendency to touch everyone. Kisses on cheeks and hugs from the side. You wanted that in your life, you welcomed it, warmth and love.

But now it’s cold and the cold is biting. It’s harsh and relentless, seeping through layers of black silk, penetrating the nice coat you bought for this occasion. The cigarette between your lips flares with each inhale, a reddened spark you cup your hands over, in futile hopes that it’ll give off heat. It doesn’t.

“Nice shoes.” You remark the second they’re in your vision, black and shiny. It’s not like you look up, either, staring down at the pavement and Richie’s pointed dress shoes. But you know it’s him: you can smell his cologne mixing with the smoke in the air, creating a scent that’s harsh and bitter but seemingly appropriate.

“Thanks,” He mutters, following your gaze. “Tiff bought ‘em.”

You want to make fun of him. Make some stupid remark, berate him for folding so easily, for doing what she says with no complaint. It’s what you would’ve done, what Mikey would’ve done: Lettin’ her make you pretty, huh? What— you gonna be wearing lipstick next? It’s so close yet so far, you can basically hear it, and you’re sure Richie can hear it too.

“She around here?” You end up asking instead.

And Richie shakes his head, already lighting up a cigarette. “Had to go relieve Eva’s babysitter. Some fuckin’ thirteen year-old from our street.”

“Yeah, well, one day she’s gonna be that thirteen year-old.”

The silence settles between you again, thick but not suffocating. Just there. You’re fine to leave it that way, you’ve been standing here regardless, leaning against a brick wall in the parking lot across from the funeral home. Five cigarette butts have fallen to your feet, and you intend on adding to the pile.

“Heading home after this?” Richie asks.

You don’t look up because you don’t want to see the look on his face. Worry. You hate worry, because you lived in worry. A perpetual fear, an anxiety settled deep in your gut, making your skin tingle and itch. But Mikey never seemed to mind; he taught you not to worry, to laugh more, to care less.

Look where that got you.

“Dunno,” You shrug, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor. It sizzles on some residual snow, which you squish down under your nice heels. “Was gonna try and back out of the lease.”

“Thought you loved that place?” Richie is quick to counter, “Y’know, green tiles and whatnot.”

It was a little apartment, one you’d found after hours of hunting. The green backsplash in the bathroom had caught your attention, and you’d spent days chatting anyone’s ear off about how you’d style it.

But now you shrug it off, appearing indifferent. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It’d been five weeks. Five weeks of domestic bliss, or, your equivalent to that. Of finding little trinkets and unique homewares to furnish the new place. Of getting excited after work, because you get to come home to your boyfriend, instead of an empty bed.

Boxes were still shoved into most corners of the place, not yet unpacked. For a moment you wondered if that was the intention. That, in not unpacking, Mikey was saving you the grief of eventually removing his presence from your place. He was making it easier, cutting out the middleman.

“Maybe Chicago isn’t for me.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, and you’ve finally looked up, meeting Richie’s gaze. It’s odd because he’s looking at you, and not at the same thing, like his mind is elsewhere. You get it. Your mind is also elsewhere.

“Fuckin’ stupid,” He mutters, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

So you shrug, another cigarette pinched between your teeth. You don’t remember lighting it. This weird haze has you on autopilot, you’ve been in it all morning. Maybe all week.

“I dunno. Might be good to get away for a bit.” You try to justify.

“Nah, fuck that. You’re not goin’ all alien on us,” Richie continues to contest. “There are people here for you. Y’know.. Tina ‘n all the cooks, and fuckin’.. fucking Fak, and Nat.”

“Natalie said—“

“I know what she fuckin’ said, it’s bullshit.”

Richie flicks out his cigarette, letting it drop into your little pile. His jacket is ironed and those shiny shoes are covered in snow, and for the first time in ages, he looks nice. You notice it. You notice the effort he’s put in, despite everything, and you know he feels the way you do.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” He begins. “You’re gonna come to The Beef once a week. Eat a sandwich, talk to us, ‘n shit. And you’re gonna come to family, too. Always.”

There’s a grimace on your face at the idea. Stepping foot in the restaurant seems like a colossal task, let alone attending family. Because that’s the thing, you weren’t family, not anymore. You’d hoped that one day you would be, for certain, a Berzatto. And now that wouldn’t happen.

“I’ll try.” You end up saying, even if dread builds in your stomach. It’s the most you can do.

Richie seems to understand, letting the silence linger for another moment. “C’mon,” He sighs. “We’re getting a drink. I’m gonna pull one smile outta you tonight.”

The notion of smiling, today, seems foreign. Yet you obey regardless, following along as Richie’s hand finds your back, and he swipes the cigarette from your mouth to throw into the snow.

It ends up being a good night. As good as it can be, at least. Each memory shared, each story told is laced with an underlying bitterness, something that settles on your tongue and behind your eyes. It’s thick and equally cold as the air; prickling like goosebumps. Richie feels it too. Everyone does, but you convince yourself that it’s not forever, that it’ll go away and the warmth will return.

#michael berzatto #mikey berzatto x you #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich x reader

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southsideserendipity · 7 months ago

Note

I saw your post about Mikey so I hope this is okay & what you were looking for. Mikey meets a girl that is like sunshine whenever she walks in the room & makes him finally feel worthy/valued so he’ll do anything to make her feel special in return

Sunshine (Mikey Berzatto x Reader)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of weed and alcohol.

Word Count: 4.2k

I found a good boy and he's on my side You're just my eternal sunshine, sunshine

“John, John- you listenin’ to me?!” Mikey was pacing his office, trampling over receipts and month-old sticky notes while aggressively combing his hands through his tussled black hair. “I’ll have your money. When have I not paid you, goombah? I didn’t see the invoice, you should see this fuckin’ office, not enough time to organize this damn shit show” he responded, kicking a stack of papers in the process.

Bending down, he began rummaging through the various papers littering the office floor, attempting to compile them into categories. “John! You there?! Fuck.” Mikey frantically pat himself down, a sudden yearn for nicotine overcoming him. Finding his carton of Marlboros, he slipped the end of a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Letting out a sigh, John grunted, “Yeah, I’m here, Mikey. I’ll give you a couple more d-” before being interrupted by the vibrations of Mikey’s phone.

“Fuck me, that jagoff is calling” Mikey thought out loud. “Listen, John, I hear you, you’ll have your money, mmkay? On my ma, I swear to ya, I gotta go though there’s another ball-buster on the other line. K? Ciao.” Before John could respond, Mikey stood up to accept the other call.

“Mark, brother, hey, before you start… I know, I know.” He picked up his phone, taking it off speaker to slip it under his ear. “I— Listen, I know. I hear you. I- Hey, you gon’ let me speak, or wha’?!” Speaking with his hands he continued to pace around the room, his booming voice stifled by the cigarette.

The lunch rush at The Beef was dying down, exposing you to increasingly longer bits of the chaotic conversation occurring in the office. This was Mikey’s typical presentation; disheveled, malnourished, and overexaggerately buzzed off of caffeine, nicotine, and italian-ness. Although he was impossible to reason with in this state, you took it upon yourself to fix him up his favourite; a mortadella sandwich with sundried tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella.

“You think I don’t know that? Pft, c’mon! Mark, man, you’re killin’ me!” You stood in the doorway, observing Mikey as he stood with one hand on his hip, the other flailing around to exemplify his frustrations. In one of your hands was the plate holding the lunch you made; in the other was a Chicago Bears BIC lighter.

Subtly knocking on the already open office door, Mikey whipped around to face you, his inconvenienced facial expression seamlessly evaporating into his wide-tooth grin. Mouthing ‘meet me outside’ was all it took for him to fake an excuse off of the phone and trail in your footsteps.

Albeit cheesy, you had that captivating effect on him, your hidden-well insecurities and past failed relationships blinding you to the fact that Mikey was infatuated with you. That, in combination with the 15-year age gap between you two. For Mikey, none of those factors changed the fact that you were his daylight, sunshine in human form.

Outside in the back you sat on a milk crate, the pre-Spring Chicagoan air fluttering over your skin. Moments after, Mikey joined you by sitting on an adjacent crate close to you after propping open the door. “Thanks, Bella” he said as he leaned over, his palm squeezing your thigh in an attempt to physically communicate the appreciation he held for your act of service.

You offered out the plate to him, prompting him to begin devouring. He gruffly moaned after taking his first bite. “Mhhhh, shit, this is like Marry Me chicken but in sandwich form.” You giggled in response with your hands resting in your lap, watching as he attacked it hungrily. Mid-bite, he motioned with his head towards the other sandwich on the plate, “Ain’t gonna eat itself, Italiana.”

“I’m not hungry right now, Mike,” you responded, suddenly losing your appetite as you thought of the most effective way to check in on him without him brushing it off. Mikey had a fortified ‘I’ll deal with it maself’ attitude; his hard-headed, traditional Italian, ‘Godfather’ persona caused him to keep you far away from the messes he had gotten himself into. In his eyes, you are more than capable of dealing with life’s bullshit, but his innate urge to protect you from harm’s way and unnecessary stress made it difficult to involve you.

“What was going on in there?” you motioned towards inside with your head. “Ah, nothin’ doll.” He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to brush off the topic, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Just some bills that need payin’, I got it covered. Business good today? Any jagoffs give you trouble?” He frantically read your face, urgently hoping you’d buy his not-so-discreet attempt at changing the topic.

“C’mon, Mike. Cut the shit. You’re suffocating in that office.” The only person whose bluntness Mikey could listen to happened to also be the only person he’d accept ‘Mike’ from. He took the cigarette that had been hanging from his lips in his office out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to light it. Taking the first drag of it, he flicked it, holding it out to you.

Pursing his lips to blow out his puff, he responded confidently. “I got it all figured out, sunshine. Plus, I got cousin helpin’ me with the books and shit. Just gotta pay back those muthafuckas who keep callin’ me. They’re all, ‘where’s my money!?’” he playfully rolled his eyes, making hand gestures and displaying a funny face as he imitated the callers. You both knew damn well they had every right to be calling him.

“You telling me that Richie is on the books is supposed to bring me a sense of comfort?” Asking him that question with pure seriousness and handing him back the cigarette, Mikey stifled a laugh. “Hey, him and the IRS are like this” he crossed his middle finger over his index while winking and making a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Cousin, where the fuck are the receipt rolls, the office looks like an abandoned and pissed-in office depot” Richie’s exclaiming became increasingly louder the closer he got. “Feels like we change the damn paper in that thing ever- oh shit, pardon my interruption to your rendezvous. Were you guys about to fuck? I can leave” Richie pointed with his thumb towards the kitchen as he sported a fake-worried and devious expression, slowly inching backwards.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “No one’s fucking anyone, Rich.” Mikey looked to the ground as he faked a chuckle, ignoring the slight pang of hurt in his chest.

“You want a mortadella sandwhich?” You held out the plate to Richie, knowing he couldn’t resist. “Uh, DUH,” Richie grabbed an additional crate to join the two of you, immediately beginning to eat.

“Oh fuck, are you fucking serious right now?! Mikey, if you don’t marry this girl I’ll do it for you. ‘S like a mouf orgathm” Richie had just begun eating yet he already had food on the corners of his mouth. You chuckled, choosing to ignore the marriage comment. “Here, you child. You’re such a slob” you threw him a napkin you had stored in your apron.

“Hey, the real slob is right over there” he pointed directly at Mikey, not even bothering to wipe his mouth but proceeding to take a another massive bite. “Something’s gotta be done about that cesspool of an office,” Richie shook his head disapprovingly, despite also functioning well in chaotic enrivonments. Mikey took yet another drag, the stress of you and Richie’s indirect demand to get his shit together getting to him. “It’s organized chaos, I know where everything is, s’all that matters.”

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This was the third night in a row that you had difficulty falling asleep. You had tried everything in your arsenal of melatonin-producing activities, and yet, your brain was spiraling, most of your thoughts pertaining to Mikey.

You weren’t going to kid yourself. You needed something and you knew exactly who to get it from. Picking up your phone, you made the call.

“Rich?? You awake?” You rolled over to your side, holding yourself up by your elbow and propping your head up with the palm of your hand. “Yeah I’m awake, but why the fuck are you awake, missus?” “I need a favour…”

Richie’s dirty mind figured any call from a woman at this hour was for sex, but he also knew about Mikey’s schoolboy yearn for you and wouldn’t dare make any advancements. The silence on his end was telling. “Not that type of favour, God, Rich! Stop being a man for a second. I need weed.” You huffed out, a whiny tone of desperation heavy in your voice.

“Now that I can help you with” he chuckled.

“YES thank you, Rich, oh my god” You sprung up out of bad as if there were hot rocks in it. “I will meet you at The Beef, okay?!” And that was where he met you.

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You and Richie sat at the back of The Beef, exactly where you had had lunch earlier that day. “You want to do the honours, stoner?” Richie held out the joint and lighter for you. You faked an annoying look and exaggerately took them from him. “I’m not a stoner, Rich. I just have an undiagnosed sleeping problem.” You put the joint between your lips and lit it, taking an ungodly large pull from it.

“Woahhhhh cheech and chong, relax” Richie practically yanked the joint from you. You immediately began coughing as you hadn’t smoked in a while. “What or who the fuck are you trying to forget, Italiana?” Richie’s joking tone didn’t conceal his concern as he took a puff himself. You looked at him, tilting your head to the side to signify confusion.

Richie took another pull before returning the joint to you. “If you’re calling me at 12am to smoke because you couldn’t sleep, it tells me your big brain was overthinking.” You took a moderate inhale this time, the buzz beginning to radiate out to your extremities. “What were you thinking about, Richie? Something tells me you were awake for similar reasons.”

“I’m not sayin’ anything ‘til you do” he responded whilst shrugging.

Making a sour face, you attempted to restore the saliva in your mouth. “I have cotton mouth like a bitch, I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?” you asked, heading inside before he could interrogate you further. “Get me a brio!” You chuckled to yourself, shouting back “You know you’re not Italian, right?!”

You walked over to the walk-in fridge, grabbing Richie’s Brio and a Fresca for yourself. On the way back out, Mikey’s office door caught your attention, and you suddenly had an idea. “Rich. Oh my god. I know exactly what we can do.”

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“I… I think we just made things worse.” Looking up at Richie in horror, he mirrored your reaction. “Yeah, we fucked up cousin. We’re in some deep shit.”

You and Richie were both sat on the office floor, waist deep in the paper equivalent of a small forest. You took a swig from your Fresca, attempting to decipher where to start. “We can do this. For Mikey. He deserves this, and fuck, let’s face it, he was never gonna do it himself!” You attempted to motivate Richie, knowing his child-like attention span and patience were on their last legs.

Picking up various pieces of paper, you attempted to make sense of them. “Okay… I’ll make one pile for receipts, and I’ll sort them by date, and then-” You felt Richie’s eyes burning a hole into you, causing you to look at him and flail your hands around. “What?!” Impatiently waiting for his response, you began gnawing on the inside of your cheek, nervous that he was onto you.

“You like him.” Richie slowly grinned from ear to ear as he stated it matter o’factly. “You like like him.” You flung your head back and groaned. “‘Like like?’ C’mon, Rich, what are you, 12? Shut the fuck up and help me.” The blood rushed into your cheeks almost immediately at his accusation, the THC physiologically betraying you and making it impossible to put on a front. “You like him. Oh my god. I fuckin’ knew it,” he giggled.

“I don’t know whether it’s the weed or the fact that it’s 3am and I’m reaching the point of delirium, but since I’m not a pre-teen, I’ll admit that you’re not wrong. But it’s never going to happen. He’s mentally ill with a fucked up family and so am I- that doesn’t tend to be the ideal romantic combination. Now, lets finish this so we can still go home and get some rest before shift starts.” You looked at Richie with a stern look; he was shocked at your mini rampage, and internally, you were petrified about the fact that you had just spilt your guts to Mikey’s bestfriend.

“And don’t get any ideas, because this conversation does NOT repeat itself, you hear me, Jerimovich!” When you addressed someone in the kitchen by their last name, they knew you meant business. “Uh-huh, yup, yes ma’am.” Richie gulped, considering you just displayed more emotions in the last 5-minutes than you had for the entire length of time he has known you. It didn’t help that he was beyond stoned and couldn’t quite comprehend the nature of what you had told him.

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“Cousin! What the fuck is this? Why can I see the floor?” Mikey was standing at the doorway of his office in utter disbelief that morning. Richie jogged over peaking his head into the office. “It was Italiana’s doing, she just told me what to do. We were preeeetty fried” he chuckled to himself, recalling last night’s events. “Surprisingly, we didn’t throw anything out. She’s got a real knack for organizing, should’ve let her do this months ago. The IRS and I aren’t going to have anymore beef, see what I did.”

Richie couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. His nervous rambling was an attempt to not tell Mikey about your confession. Knowing how much Mikey admired you, it was killing him to not be able to tell his own bestfriend that the girl of his dreams reciprocated his feelings. Mikey slowly turned to look at Richie, hands still on his hips. “What the fuck did you smoke, crack? Why are you acting all fucked?”

You had walked into the kitchen at perfect timing before Richie blabbed your secret. Going to hang your purse up, Mikey called you over; he didn’t even need to see you to feel your presence. “Italiana, come ‘ere!” You sped walk over and stood in the entrance, your hands folded in front of you with a nervousness. A part of you was worried that messing with Mikey’s ‘organized chaos’ was going to disorient him, but you wanted to lessen the stress he was experiencing. That was what you did for the people you loved; especially the man you loved.

“You did this?” He looked directly at you; despite being an expert in Mikey’s nuances, you couldn’t tell whether he was pissed or overjoyed. “Uh, yeah! It’s all pretty self-explanatory but I can go through it with you if you want? I just thought it’d make your life a lil easier. And Richie’s! Of course.” You rubbed your arm with your hand as a means of self-soothing.

“This is great, Bella. Truly. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen it look like this ever” he motioned towards the filing cabinet and the paper baskets you had labelled appropriately, using his other hand to comb through his hair in shock. “I couldnt of done it without Richie. And Richie’s weed! It was nothing, Mike” you smiled at him and showed yourself out as nonchalantly as possible.

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You were waiting the last tables of the day - mainly consisting of left behind beer bottles and plastic sandwich baskets - when Mikey came up behind you putting one hand on your waist. “Meet me in the office when you’re done here, yeah?” As he whispered into your ear, you had to keep your knees from buckling. “Yeah, Mike! Okay!” Fucking Richie.

You attempted to stall for the inevitably painful conversation that awaited you, slowly walking towards the kitchen. While washing your hands, your brain began to spiral. Wiping your hands on your apron, you attempted to bravely walk towards the office, standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” You halted in your tracks almost immediately as you noticed the charcuterie board Mikey was standing in front of and the bottle of red wine in his hands. “Fuck me. Okay, listen.” You walked closer to him. “Before you say anything, I don’t know what Richie said to you, but as someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re, he has no idea what he’s talking about. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Mikey looked at you like a deer in headlights. “What the fuck are you talking about,” he chuckled. There was that dimpled smile. And now you were confused (and distracted) before you realized Richie didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to thank you for organizing the office…” Mikey explained, twisting the bottle of wine open and pouring you a glass. “I know how much you like your charcuterie. If Starbucks ever stops selling those little boards I’ll wonder what you’re gonna eat.” He earned a laugh from you for joking about your mild salami addiction.

You sported the fakest wide tooth grin you could muster. “Hey, I’m Italian. I can’t help it. I think I’m keeping them in business though” you joked in response. He held out the glass for you and winked. “Thanks, Mike” you smiled, hoping he couldn’t pick up on your nervousness.

“Okay, let me show you what we’ve got here.” He clapped his hands together, excited to introduce you to his concoction of Italian meets and cheeses. Hunched over his desk with both of his hands planted on the surface to support him, he pointed at each meat and cheese as he went through the board’s contents.

“We’ve got cacciatore, prosciutto, mortadella, then I added parmesan - I know how much you like it - along with romano and gorgonzola. I was thinking we can add it to the menu. We’re no hipster yuppies but throw some olives and overpriced crackers on here and I mean, we’re talkin’ business, baby.” Looking up at you, he attempted to read your face for your thoughts.

Mikey was passionate. That was his entire nature. And when he presented you with ideas, he seemed to put your approval and opinion on a pedestal. You had helped significantly with business at The Beef, assisting in bringing Mikey’s visions to fruition while also providing your input where necessary; he valued your insight more than you realized.

Taking a baguette slice, you added cacciatore and parmesan onto it and bit in. “Fuck, Mike.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you let out a near moan. “We gotta add this. It could even be part of a date night special. The charcuterie as an antipasto, a soup or salad, a main, and then dessert” you presented.

Mike glanced up at you with a smirk, content with your proposal. “Have I ever told you that I love your brain, Italiana?” You giggled as you continued to devour the board, attempting to ignore his blatantly obvious attempt at flirting as you couldn’t believe he could possibly be interested in you.

The rest of the evening was spent brainstorming business ideas, reminiscing on memories shared between you, Mikey, and Richie, and consuming copious amounts of wine.

“Oh my god, Mike. You remember when Richie tried picking up that blonde girl at the bar with a magic trick, and you- y- oh my god.” You flung your head back as you cackled; you were wine drunk and snortling to the point of incoherence. You were sat across from Mikey who was planted behind his desk, his ankle resting on top of his other knee. His forearms rested on the arms of his chair, and he loosely held a glass of whiskey as he watched you with amusement and a sly grin of admiration.

“You had to go over there and save him from the embarrassment. Poor thing.” You chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the chick he was tryna bag had started flirting with me,” Mikey said, taking a sip of his whiskey and raising his eyebrows as he attempted to recall the events of that evening.

You looked intently at him, not breaking eye contact. “Can you blame her?” The wine encouraged a new-found confidence to emerge from within you. There was no way you would’ve been this direct with Mikey while sober.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey leaned forward to put his glass on his desk then returned to his laid back position. With a dumbfounded look on your faced, you laughed then displayed a look of annoyance. “Don’t play stupid. Look at yourself, Mike.” You stood up, put the wine glass down, and rested both of your hands on his desk, leaning forward until you were mere inches away from his face.

Looking into his right eye, glancing down at his lips, and looking back up to his left eye, he began to shift in his seat. It was evident that you were both under a hazy and horny alcohol-induced influence, the sexual tension very obviously suffocating the room. “Now take me home before I say or do something I’ll regret.”

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As Mikey walked you back to your apartment, you held onto the side of his frame with all your might. He guided you through the streets of Chicago with ease; he was nowhere near the level of drunk that you had achieved. “You okay, darlin’?” He looked down, a slight smile on his face as he recognized your drunken effort to walk in a straight line. “Yeah, Mike. Thanks for tonight. No one’s ever gone through such an effort to appreciate me.”

You peered up at him with a smile; you wanted to put into perspective how much his actions meant to you, however, Mikey felt an even stronger urge to spoil you moving forward. Quite frankly, he was bewildered that his small gesture that evening exceeded all that you’ve known.

Arriving to the door of your apartment, you began rummaging through your purse for your keys. Finding them, you held your arm out straight and dangled them in front of Mikey. “You’re gonna need to unlock the door, mister. I do not currently possess the fine motor skills” you joked, earning a laugh from him.

You caught the glimmer in his eyes. Mikey felt like your fierce protector. You both knew you didn’t need protecting- while this was a part of you he admired, his masculinity often fought for dominance; for the chance to show you how well he could look after you and how much you deserved it.

He opened the door, propping it open for you as you stumbled through, immediately attempting to take off your shoes. You hadn’t thought this out thoroughly as you ended up toppling over, Mikey catching you in the process. “Easy, doll. Here, sit down,” he motioned toward the ottoman in the foyer of your apartment, guiding you as you lowered yourself.

He crouched down at your feet and placed the heel of your foot on his thigh, proceeding to untie your shoes. Grasping your ankle one at a time, he wiggled your feet out. You looked down at him, admiring his gentle touch, the concentration present in his furrowed brow; you loved to watch him, whatever he was doing, and you’ve known for a long time that you’ve loved him.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Holding out both of his hands for you, you stood up, letting him walk you through to your bedroom. You had a case of the over-tired drunken giggles, prompting you to laugh as you slurred your intentions to take off your make-up.

Mikey picked out some pjs for you, then proceeded to pour you a cold glass of water while you got changed. Opening the door to your bedroom, you motioned for him to come inside. “Sleep next to me?” You proposed with a curious tone despite knowing he’d decline as he (annoyingly) insisted on being a respectful gentleman at all times. “S’all good doll, I’ll be good on the couch” he motioned to the living room with his head. “Lemme tuck you in.”

As you got under the covers, Mikey offered you the glass of water to which you happily obliged. Handing it back to him, he placed it on your bedside table as you snuggled yourself into the sheets. He turned off the lamp, the room engulfing with darkness save for the midnight blue hue that the window cast in.

Mikey began to walk out of your room when you called out to him. “Hey Mike, c’mere” you turned over, watching him as he slowly approached. Motioning for him to come closer, you whispered into his ear. “I like like you.”

Knocking out after the words escaped your lips, as if they were made of melatonin, Mikey smiled to himself as he looked down at you. “And I love you, sunshine.”

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EEEEEEEEK my very first Mikey imagine! Which means I am still learning to integrate his personality into my writing- it’s hard when he has extremely minimal screentime. ALSO I am writing this in whatever year Mikey was operating The Beef, so Carmy, Syd, and the others aren’t there, and Richie and Tiff are still together. I am completely open to feedback and would also love to get more requests for Mikey. Let me know what y’all think!!! :)

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