#the bear angst

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[ambitiouspotions]

BABY DAZE | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — regretting the shotgun wedding, caring for a five-month-old baby, and wondering why your husband likes painkillers more than you

word count — 4.4k

warnings — addiction, angst, talk of recovery and na meetings, arguing, slightly religious connotations, drug/alcohol usage, stress from motherhood, mom guilt, mature language

author's note — i told myself not to write mikey again so soon, but look at me…also i channel some of my family (sicilian american) when i write these

“fak, come on man, you can't put together a damn crib? you gotta get me out of this hole i’m in,” mikey looked at the stray pieces of wood on the floor, screws in a pile, and neil fak’s unorganized toolbox. the instruction booklet was opened and slightly crumpled from the number of times fak had referenced the pages.

fak’s face was slightly distorted as he looked at the pieces and then back to the instructions. “man, look, i don't know what you want me to do this shit is all kinds of fucked.” the handyman simply could not understand why baby furniture had so many pieces and so many varying sizes. if it was so safe, why was the company recommending it all to be put together with a single allen wrench? there was no way he was only using that stupid allen wrench, not for baby berzatto anyway.

mikey was running his hands over his face and to his bangs that were falling, gripping the ends of his hair tightly. he had promised you the nursery furniture would be completed by the time you arrived home after work. he already had the majority of the room completed without you knowing, moving and organizing the junk he had piled into the spare bedroom as if it were a storage unit. the baby shower had only caused the room to be more cluttered, and on top of the clients, you were trying to fit in for their appointments before going on maternity leave, which meant you never had enough time in the day to organize it yourself. the stress of disorganization and ill preparation led to you biting your nails and peeling the skin away from your fingertips routinely. mikey noticed this and now had the perfect excuse to get the nursery finished and elevate your mood at the same time.

“what’d you do this time anyway?” fak questioned as he propped one board of the crib against the wall and rummaged through his varying sizes of drill bits.

mikey didn't want to admit to fak that he was unwilling to defend you in front of his mother, donna, at a family lunch when she had mumbled something along the lines of ‘your child is still a bastard.’ it was unneeded, unkind, and simply unprovoked after you had put on your nicest attitude to agree to have lunch with her and mikey in the first place.

you both already made the mistake. there was no coming back from that fuck up, so why keep dwelling on it? that was the understanding by the rest of the family anyway, but donna wouldn't ever drop it.

“fak, you fucker, i’d love to know,” mikey held the opposite end as fak skimmed the directions again to install the railing. he didn't need to be told he was in the wrong again, best to just skip that shitty conversation altogether.

“they say the first seven months of marriage are always the hardest,” fak tried to console mikey as he began using the drill. mikey was doubtful the moment fak tried to say anything about marriage, especially coming from a single man. mikey, himself, wouldn't have any pleasant advice to give anyone either because his marriage, more like hasty elopement, was only six months old with a wife who was eight months pregnant. any idiot could do the math on why this marriage was legitimized.

“seven years, the first seven years,” mikey corrected him with a groan of annoyance. “i appreciate you doing this though; my back’s been killin’ me.”

another factor of stress added to the plate, almost two years ago, would mark the anniversary of mikey slipping in the flooding bathroom of the beef so violently that he now had permanent hardware in his spine. along with the surgery came the pain and the way to manage pain—opioids. that was a sick joke. one second, he’s slipping on the tile and slamming into the porcelain commode, and the next, he was relying on drugs to get him through a stressful day.

he didn't know if his back still hurt or if he was accustomed to saying it to convince himself that it was enough of a reason to get high. that was the sad part, mikey was popping pills and you barely had any time to notice because you were always asleep before he took a little something to take the edge off. he didn't need you to have another thing to worry about, so sneakily would replace the pills he took and leave the prescription bottle in the same place. you had no reason to question him because the allergy medication you received from the walk-in clinic almost a year ago sat on that same shelf, and you never bothered to clean it out. he was covering his tracks well; why would you ever notice anyway? especially if he was so good at hiding it?

“it's no big deal, happy wife, happy life,” fak rhymed, adjusting his leveling tool against the boards before drilling them together.

the moment the tattooed handyman was able to support the crib by himself, mikey began working on the other projects to make the room more cozy.

fak made himself scarce once it was close to your arrival time. he was going to let mikey take all of your good graces on the updated nursery.

“look at that panica,” mikey greeted, affectionately rubbing your oversized belly the moment you walked through the door. his fingers slipped under your bag and dragged it off your shoulder, setting it on the counter beside him.

you eyed him skeptically wondering where his gentleness was stemming from. he had given you dull responses, impersonal kisses, and compliments, just enough to keep you quiet before you shut the door to leave. his pre-sleep painkiller always caused a morning annoyance when he awoke, but you always chalked his bad attitude up to stress rather than thinking he was abusing any type of drug. it was mikey; he had a lot on the line, stress was his middle name, annoyance ran through his veins. he was a berzatto; of course, he had to have some form of mental illness genetically passed down to him.

“what? i can't love on my two babies?” he asked, pulling you closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“what did you do?” you asked, holding each side of his face, trying to find an inkling of his true intentions. it was teasing in a way, but knew he must've had a plan up his sleeve.

“i'm so glad you asked; close those pretty eyes for me,” he chuckled. the singular lift of the corner of his mouth was always enough to make you melt.

mikey led you blindly to the spare bedroom that had been transformed into a nursery, too bad your crumby landlord wouldn't allow the wall color to be changed or mikey would've had that swatch of fern canopy behr from the local home depot on all four walls.

“alright,” he said, clasping his hands together. when you opened your eyes, you couldn't withhold the emotions that had been pent up for so long. you were staring at the crib like it was a winning lottery ticket. the sheets were made, the embroidered baby blanket natalie and pete had gifted you was draped over the edge, the bear stuffed animals were in the corner of the crib as if they were having their own meeting, and the mattress was at the perfect height for a newborn.

the changing table was assembled, and even with one of the drawers being slightly crooked, it was perfect. it was everything you wanted for your baby. it was safe, cozy, organized, and most importantly, it was something you wanted.

mikey had gone beyond your expectations. he had promised the furniture would be put together, but he gave you more than that. he gave you hope. he gave you a reason to relax. he gave you solace in knowing that although you had an unplanned pregnancy, wedding ceremony at the courthouse, and chaotic reception at the beef you could lean on him for support.

“hey, don't cry,” mikey began rubbing your lower back as you reached over the crib to caress one of the teddy bears.

“i’m sorry…this is just really beautiful,” you sniffled, taking the bear into your arms and hugging it tightly.

“would it make you feel better if i said i got you those apple pie egg rolls?” he smirked when you turned around. your gaze had softened more, more tears falling down your eyes with the most genuine type of comfort.

“you got me egg rolls?” you couldn't help but question him in the sweetest disbelief. the tone in your voice was cracking as you leaned into his chest. mikey berzatto was out of the hole he placed himself in just a few days prior.

you were in survival mode and so was mikey. it was nearing the end of your eighth week out of ten from maternity leave at the salon and mikey had barely any time off from his responsibilities at the restaurant. he was trying to split his time as much as possible, but unfortunately, an understaffed restaurant meant he had to be gone more than he liked.

everyone said once the baby arrived, your life would never slow down, and they were right. gabriel michael berzatto was a healthy, gentle, and happy baby, the one people didn't mind stopping to look at in the stroller as you walked past. he was a miniature mikey if anything with his dark hair, crooked smile, and wide nose.

“is your back hurting that bad?” the question hit his ear like a ton of bricks. “i don't think you can drink on those,” you added, picking up the paper plates from dinner.

“what?” mikey asked, pushing his beer on the coffee table that had already suffered enough of mikey's abuse from not using a coaster.

“your back,” you repeated, looking at him from the kitchen. “i didn't even know you took those things still. i thought they were expired,” that's when mikey realized what he had done. he left the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. a mistake he never thought he would make had been done. by the time you went to sleep, he was in a comfortable state of high, and you were none the wiser. then halfway through prep at the beef, he’d take another little pill, and if he was having a particularly shitty day, then again when he went for a smoke break. he seemed to have a lot of shitty days at the beef because everything was falling apart and everything always seems to go wrong. and who knows maybe the days weren’t that bad, but sometimes it just seemed like too long to wait until you were about to go to bed.

“yeah, hurtin’ pretty bad,” he lied, sitting uncomfortably in his recliner now. “opened this thing without thinkin’,” he was looking at the amber-colored glass of the freshly opened beer.

“didn’t even know you needed them anymore,” you confessed, folding the throw blanket that had been discarded on the floor when you rose from the sofa after nursing gabriel to sleep.

“sometimes, you know that permanent hardware gets pretty damn stiff when the weather changes,” he explained, wiping his hands on his boxers.

“maybe you need to go back to the orthopedist,” you suggested casually, though you were skeptical of his body language. he was tense and unrelaxed, more than he was before you voiced your concern about his well-being.

“you’re right, just need’a find the time,” he agreed, scratching his grown-out beard that seemed to become more unkempt as the days quickly turned into weeks. it was one of the many tasks that got slid to the back burner because the priorities were set on becoming accustomed to demanding needs from the newest member of the family.

“got that big bottle of arthritis tylenol from the costco if you want to take that instead,” you offered, feeling uneasy about the fact that mikey was taking painkillers, painkillers you knew were two years old, though in actuality they were bought from a regular customer at the beginning of the week when mikey went to the restaurant to “check on the gas line.”

“yeah, thanks, baby,” he nodded, clearing his throat. he could tell you weren't convinced, but at the same time, neither of you had the energy to overthink or argue.

gabriel started to cry from the other room, mikey was the first one to move. he was quick with his attentiveness to his knowing he had an easy way to escape the conversation.

“i got this one,” he mumbled, rubbing his face as he slipped past you to enter the nursery. that was the end of that for a while, though it plagued your mind frequently. you started counting the pills in the bottle and it never seemed to lessen. it hadn't become misplaced again after asking him about it. you couldn't prove that he was using unless you were going solely based on your gut instinct.

you were as guilty as mikey. mikey was blatantly lying to you and you were enabling him because you were choosing not to confront him about it. you didn't want to admit to yourself that your husband was abusing painkillers because if you did that meant that your life would already be more stressful than it already was.

it was all making sense now. irritably, mood swings, aversion, questionable decisions, not because he had gotten you knocked up, not because he had to marry you, not because the bills were stacking up, not because he said his family was bothering him, but because he was popping pills.

it was hard some days because you were still figuring out the new aspects of parenting, but a natural and oddly comforting instinct took over you. although you and mikey were able to take care of gabriel and still manage your busy schedules you had an overwhelming amount of dread and guilt hanging over your head. were you doing anything right?

you hadn't known how much weight you were pulling until tonight. five months of night feedings, pumping, juggling schedules, daycare pickups, pediatrician checkups, washing bottles, pump parts, and an excessive amount of laundry which was clean, but piled skillfully on the living room sofa, but you did it because you convinced yourself that mikey was simply too busy to take on all the tasks you were tackling. you believed you had to be the sole provider for gabriel because mikey was the business owner. he was the one that had his valuable time placed on his restaurant, so you refused to mention that you might have needed help.

it was making you have doubts about your marriage. the marriage you consented to because you thought it would make both of your lives more stable and make you more reassured that mikey was going to stick around for you and the baby. the marriage that seemed to put your parents at ease knowing they could pray for the sins of lust and greed that caused an unplanned child. the marriage that at first seemed right, but now felt like a one-sided partnership because you were being stubborn and mikey was being ignorant.

everything seemed to be going wrong tonight (gabriel was fussy the moment you tried to put him down, you wasted eight ounces of fresh breast milk because you didn't seal the bag all the way when putting it in the freezer, and you were on your third shirt change of the night) and mikey was sitting in his recliner drinking a beer. the condensation was beading off the glass bottle and dripping onto his worn spiraled notebook where he kept his business dealings for the beef contained. you were struggling and he was drinking a damn beer.

“mikey,” you finally made him look up, smudges of ink from his pen were on the underside of his hand. “take the baby please,” you said, handing off the teary-eyed baby to your husband who couldn't seem less interested. you were covered in spit-up, from your shirt to your hair because gabriel accidentally grabbed a good chunk of it when he moved his dirty hand. mikey didn't seem present though he was sitting in front of you, loosely cradling his son.

“are you high?” you didn't know why you sounded surprised when you asked that question. you had been avoiding ever talking about that night three months prior. you practically snatched gabriel out of his arms which only made mikey defensive in trying to take him back. “oh my fucking god,” you muttered taking a step back from him.

“come on, i got ‘em,” mikey flicked the condensation that was still present on his hand from the beer, he rose from his resting place on the recliner. he was trying to avoid your line of questioning.

“no, what the hell is wrong with you?” you were placing entirely too much blame on mikey because you were overwhelmed and overworked, well, had been overwhelmed and overworked for months. your anxiety and frustration were spilling over the overfilled glass it had been stuffed into.

“hey, hey,” he warned, noticing your voice had raised sharply when he went to reach for gabriel. “chill out, mammina.” wrong choice of words.

“chill out? you want me to chill out? you're the one sitting on your ass getting high when i've been running around all evening with my head cut off.” you were trying to keep your tone light after your increase in volume had spooked gabriel.

“i didn't mean it like that, dammit, hand me gabe,” he sighed, though when he went to reach for the baby again you shielded gabriel from being taken out of your arms.

“you're bein' ridiculous,” mikey scoffed, following behind you. his inebriated state was affecting his ability to understand why he wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t be holding his infant.

“and you're high,” you retorted, walking to the bathroom. “can’t even change my shirt because—” you unskillfully managed to open the cap and dump the oxycontin onto the counter. gabriel in your arms none the wiser to the situation. you counted them four times before even looking at him. you had to be sure that you weren’t going mad because the same amount was in the pill bottle as you had counted many times before.

“mammina—”

“where are you getting them?” you interjected, tossing the empty bottle at his chest.

“mammina, give me the baby and go change your shirt,” he insisted, as if you were so easily going to give up the little boy in your arms.

“michael, i am not fucking stupid and you know that. so where the fuck are you getting them?”

“why's it matter where i'm gettin’ ‘em from?”

he had a point; you didn't quite know why it mattered. you knew he'd find a way to continue taking them like he was already doing.

there was a long moment of silence, yet it was saying more than words could. pain, hurt, frustration, uncertainty, and fear were seasoning the bottom of the cast iron pot, and a thick helping of despair was poured over the top. the back of the metal spoon that was used to stir the clusterfuck let everything mingle, and then it had to bake in the oven at 425° until that shit was burnt and stinking up the entire apartment. oh, and then you had to eat that garbage. it was inedible, but you had to choke it down because that was what was happening. you helped enable that mess, and now you, as well as mikey, had to take responsibility for it.

“how long…how fuckin’ long have you been takin’ them?” your nose was buried in the crook of gabriel's neck. your voice was barely above a whisper.

“i dunno,” he wet his upper lip with his tongue, dragging his hand over his face. he couldn't admit that to you right now. that would break you. it would break you knowing you were oblivious for years. he could tell it was already eating you alive that you didn’t confront him properly just a few months ago. you had a general time frame when you thought he started abusing painkillers, but mikey was the only man that knew when his issue truly began.

“you gotta know…” you pleaded softly. your tears were finally falling. you didn't know how they were contained before. gabriel's tiny hand was pulling at the top of your shirt to whine for his nightly feeding. you looked so vulnerable leaning against the bathroom counter, pulling down one side of your shirt and unclasping your nursing bra, allowing your son to nurse. that was life now, having someone that meant more to you than anything else because even if your husband was abusing opioids you had a son that was helpless without you. the world could be ending, but your responsibility would never be focused on anything else except your child. what were you supposed to do in this situation? keep gabriel safe before things get too out of control. that was the answer.

you didn't resent mikey or hate him. he was helpless much like gabriel. though he had unintentionally gotten himself addicted to opioids because of the exploding toilet from the beef, it wasn't his fault. he was caught in a vicious cycle that needed professional help; help you couldn't provide for him.

you couldn't do it on your own either, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. you couldn't leave him because he was the person that you could lean on when you needed him. he was the man that forced marcus to learn how to make apple pie egg rolls so he wouldn't have to keep buying them from the bakery across from the beef. he was the man that sat behind you as you labored because he knew you felt better when he had his chin on your shoulder; he talked you through the entire thing and you couldn't be upset about it because every word he said comforted you and encouraged you. you could let him lean on you when he needed you most as long as it met that gabriel was safe.

“listen to me,” your voice cracked. “i don't know what to do, but i'm going to figure it out.” you managed to loosen one of your arms from gabriel. you wiped under your eyes. a painful and staggered exhale left your lungs. “ i won't be able to do this forever if you don't try to get sober, and it's not because of me, it's because of gabriel. he doesn't deserve this.”

“i know,” mikey said, reaching his hand out to caress his son's wispy black hair. you knew he wasn't going to take him. mikey needed comfort and gabriel was an easy little one to be comforted by. he was small and innocent. he loved his parents unconditionally because he didn't know the horrors of the world. he was being cradled in the bathroom unaware of anything that had occurred. he was blissfully ignorant. he was protected because he wasn't mature enough to understand the complex emotion that was surging through the apartment.

“i know you're going to have bad days. i know that you're going to relapse, and i know that this can't be fixed in a week, but damn, you have to try or i'm going to leave with gabriel.”

mikey leaned his forehead on yours. a quiet and consoling agreement that he would try his best. he couldn't ruin this with you. he made enough stupid mistakes with you in high school. he was supposed to be apologizing for those times now when he truly cared for you. he didn't reconnect with you later in life to keep being stupid, okay—maybe forgetting the condom a couple of months before your marriage was stupid, but the point was he wants to make things right.

the rest of the night was painful. you stayed up watching mikey sleep off his latest dose on the recliner and studying gabriel's small figure on the baby monitor. tonight seemed like the night that needed some silence even if it wasn't followed with peace.

mikey had taken your consideration of being sober seriously. he knew you were never one to back down from your word, and that ultimatum made him scared. scared enough to try and get his bearings in order, leave the beef to richie before he was past the point of no return. he was going to attend the narcotics anonymous meetings you had found online because they could allow him to find more resources to aid him. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, hell, he was living through the hardest part, wanting more—another dose—before he even got in the car with you to attend the meeting.

he didn't want to be the dad that wasn't around. he gets sober or you leave with gabriel that was the deal. he couldn't stop this alone but that was the most difficult part—admitting he needed help. he couldn't keep fighting with himself, ignoring his fatherly duties, and he couldn't keep hurting you. he knew he wasn't acting like himself and he saw it most when you gave him that sad smile where your eyes wouldn't crinkle at the edges and your cheeks would barely rise. he knew he had to make a change.

“we'll be waiting for you because we love you,” you whispered in his ear. mikey had his nose buried in the side of your cheek, withholding the tears he so badly wanted to release. mikey was holding the railing to the steps of the church so tightly. his other hand was resting on gabriel's back. he was scared to let go. he knew he had to confront what had been haunting him. it wasn't just a back injury anymore it transpired well past that. it was beyond physical pain. it was an addiction. a festering, evil addiction that constantly gnawed at his entire body.

“i love you too,” he cleared his throat harshly, knowing if he said anything else he would break down. he wanted to do better. he wanted to be better. he needed to do better for the sake of keeping everything he loved.

[eufezco]

Richie with wife reader. Soft!Richie only for his girls!! Anything at all. Fluff and a little suggestive. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

Richie asked you if you could stay with his daughter when Carmen called him from the restaurant to ask him for help. There was only a week left before the opening and even though Richie was on his day off, he could not ignore Carmen when he needed him.

It had been a couple of hours since he had left and little Eva was busy watching TV while you cooked dinner. She had asked a few times where her dad was but she felt comfortable enough with you to forget that Richie had been gone all afternoon. You both had watched a movie, made some drawings for Richie and Tiffany while you listened to Taylor Swift, you had prepared a snack for her when she woke up from her nap and now she was sitting on your couch in her pajamas, peacefully waiting for her daddy.

Richie opened the door of the house. —I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How are my sweetest girls? Oh, you missed me? —He asked his daughter when she stood from the couch and ran to him. Richie picked up the girl and hugged her while he walked towards you to give a quick kiss on your lips.

You hummed when Richie kissed you, glad that he was finally home and just in time for dinner. —We've really missed you —You were focused on mixing the pasta well with the sauce. —Do you wanna tell him why, Eva?

—We took a nap —. The little girl confessed and Richie acted hurt.

—You took a nap? Without me? — Richie asked and Eva laughed He smiled. —Was it good at least? —He asked and the girl nodded. Richie gave her another tight hug and devoured the little girl's face with kisses before putting her down on the floor and telling her to go and wait for him on the couch.

Once Eva was focused on the TV, Richie put his arms around your body, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder while you continued cooking.—I'm sorry, baby. I should've called to tell you that it was going to take longer.

—It's fine, Richie. You know I don't mind looking after her. We've had fun.

He hugged you tighter, you had always been so sweet to his daughter and Eva loved spending time with you. Tiffany had played a big part in it, you both had a lot of respect for each other and she had helped to bring her daughter's relationship with you closer.

—You're gonna be the best mom in the world.

You hummed again. Richie, with his head tucked on your neck, tickled you with his beard. You closed your eyes, feeling Richie's hands caressing your belly over your clothes. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother to his kids, but with all the chaos after the wedding and the opening of the restaurant, you had been too busy to stop and think about it.

—Why don't we start now? —He murmured in your ear. Richie's hands started slowly moving from your belly to the elastic of your pajama pants. His face on your neck started kissing your skin there. You bit your lower lip and stopped mixing the pasta to give him a gentle slap on his hands to get him to behave.

—Richie, Eva's here —. You whispered.

He huffed and let his forehead fall on your shoulder. You giggled at his reaction and put one of your hands on his head to caress his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Richie didn't want to show you how overwhelmed he was with everything related to the restaurant opening, but he didn't have to because you already knew. You both worked there, you knew how it worked. The only thing that made you relax these days was coming home together and realizing that you had each other. Marrying you was the best decision he had ever made in his life, there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about how lucky he was.

—Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go and take a shower?

Richie nodded and let his arms go from around your body. You turned around and kissed his lips. He showed you a satisfied little smile and went in for another kiss. Then, Richie walked over to the couch and planted a kiss on the top of Eva's head, who was too distracted by the TV.

—Wait —. You said before he went into the bathroom. Richie turned and saw you walking to where he was. His blue eyes lit up.

—Want to join me? —He asked excited. You nodded and his excitement grew. Richie's great imagination was already working and he couldn't have liked more all the images that went through his mind.

—We won't take long.

—We won't?

You shook your head and laughed. His daughter was there and the dinner was ready but food could wait and if Eva needed anything she could knock on the door or just call you, your apartment was not that big, and you would hear her just fine. By the time you finished thinking about it, the bathroom door was already closed and Richie's lips were on yours while he pulled on the hem of your pajama shirt.

@pear-1206 <333

[springtyme]

51 ✨ for carmy 🐻

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐀𝐭 𝐀 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, anon! I hope you like it 💕

Carmen Berzatto x reader || Carmy playlist || Main masterlist

51: “I can’t live without you.”

The strain of Carmy's new responsibilities at The Beef has taken a toll on your relationship, leaving you worried and questioning your place in his life. And you're scared, but not for the reason Carmy thinks.

Angst (with a happy ending). Hurt/comfort. Mention of what happened to Michael.

word count: 2.1k

You stand in the dimly lit hallway of your apartment, anxiously tapping your foot against the worn floorboards. It’s late, much later than Carmen had told you he would be home. The clock on the wall mocks you with its ticking, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your relationship with Carmen has been strained lately, the weight of his responsibilities after taking over The Beef after Micheal’s death has taken a toll on both of you.

You and Carmen had met in New York, about two years ago, when he had moved into the apartment next to yours. You had not looked for a relationship and neither had Carmen, but it was like fate had kept pushing the two of you together. 

It had just started out with a few chance encounters in the hallway or at the local grocery store, with him stumbling slightly over his words as he asked you about your day or offered to carry your groceries. 

But it had been a power outage which had left the whole building in darkness that really had brought you together. You had fumbled your way out in the hallway to figure out if it was just your apartment that had lost power or if it was the whole building. And that’s when you had bumped into Carmen, literally. His strong arms had wrapped around you instinctually, preventing you from falling on your ass. 

You had candles in your apartment, unlike Carmen so you had invited him in to share the light and wait for the power to be restored. As the hours passed, you two ended up talking and getting to know each other better. It was a simple yet intimate evening, and from that moment on, you felt a connection that you couldn’t ignore and a sweet friendship had blossomed between you.

He didn’t have much time off, literally working at one of the best restaurants in the world, but the moments you did spend together were cherished, and it hadn’t taken long before your connection had grown even stronger, evolving into something more than just friendship and eventually blossoming into a real and deep relationship. 

You had not hesitated to say yes to move back to Chicago with him after his brother had passed away.

You never got to meet Michael, Carmen didn’t really speak to him through all the time you dated, you've never fully understood what had happened between them, but you have a feeling that Carmen didn't really knew it either, and he has never really liked talking about his family in general, but you do know that he loved Michael a lot.

You had tried to convince him to go to the funeral, telling him that you would be there for him, but he had kept shooting the idea down. He kept excusing it by saying that he couldn’t, his contract at the French Laundromat hadn’t expired yet, and despite that being true, you had a feeling that going to the funeral would make the loss of his brother feel all the more real, and that was something he wasn’t ready for.

You also had the feeling that he didn’t want to see his mother, at least not in that setting, so you had just decided that you would let him grieve in his own way, and just be there for him in whatever way he needed you to.

It had been the same you had done with his job after all.  

You know that he had loved his job in New York, in his own fucked up way. It was a messed up, down right toxic, work environment, and it had hurt to see him come home every night, tired to the bone, both physically and emotionally drained, yet he kept doing it. His ineffable love for the culinary arts that just couldn’t be extinguished kept him going. It is just after you moved to Chicago a month ago that he told you that he would throw up every morning before work.

It crushed you to hear that Carmen was suffering silently, but you understood why he continued to push through. The restaurant industry was demanding and competitive, and Carmen was determined to prove himself. You had hoped that the move to Chicago would bring some relief, a fresh start away from the toxicity of his previous job. However, the weight of his responsibilities at The Beef seemed to have only deepened the strain on your relationship.

You love him, and you want to be there for him, no matter what. But the constant absence and distance have started to make you question where you stand in his life. But most of all you’re just sad that he is sad, or really it's more that you're sad that he is in a situation that should make him sad, it's like he doesn’t even really allow himself to be sad, and that really hurts to watch. 

You try to push away those negative thoughts, you try yo remind yourself that Carmen is just going through a difficult time, but that just makes the worried feeling in the pit of your stomach feel even heavier.

As the front door finally creaks open, your heart skips a beat. Carmen steps inside, his weary eyes meeting yours. The exhaustion etched on his face is painfully evident, and your worry intensifies, yet you're just so happy to see him. As he slides off his jacket his white t-shirt comes into view, it’s stained with sauces and his hands bear the marks of countless hours spent in the kitchen, but it’s the weariness in his eyes that tears at your heart.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse from lack of rest. “Why are you still up?

You muster a small smile, trying to hide your concern. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admit softly, stepping closer to him. “I was worried about you. You said you’d be home earlier.”

Carmen sighs heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I know, I’m sorry, it was just... things got really busy tonight.”

You nod, biting your lip to hold back the words that threaten to spill out. You want to scream at him, not from a place of anger, but frustration, to make him understand that his health is more important than any sandwich on the menu. But you also know that he pours everything he got into the restaurant.  

“I’m just worried about you, Carmy,” you finally manage to say, your voice tinged with both frustration and concern. “You work yourself to the bone, and it’s taking a toll on you. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know,  but there is not much I can do about it, okay. I’m sorry for putting you through this. But I can’t just abandon the restaurant. If I don’t fix it Jimmy’s gonna sell it and turn it into a fucking Applebee’s.” 

Tears well up in your eyes as you take a step closer to him. “I get that, Carm. I do. But you need to take care of yourself too. It hurts seeing you like this.” 

Carmen looks at you, his tired eyes searching your face. There’s a mix of frustration and resignation in his gaze, as if he knows you’re right but doesn’t know how to change the situation. The weight of his responsibilities seems to visibly crush him, and it breaks your heart.

“I know, I know,” Carmen says, his voice tinged with defeat. “But it’s not that simple. The Beef is struggling, and I need to turn it around. I can’t just walk away.”

Your frustration builds, and you can’t help but argue back. “I understand that, Carmy, but you also can’t sacrifice your well-being for the sake of this restaurant. There has to be a way to find a balance, to take care of yourself too.”   

“I know I need to take care of myself, and I don’t want to keep putting you through this,” his voice taking on a more frustrating tone, he isn’t yelling, but there’s an edge to it. “But I just... I don’t know how to do that right now, okay”

The tone of his voice makes you pause for a moment, he has never talked to you like that before and you can’t help but slightly flinch. You know that he is just frustrated but it still makes you feel a deep pang of hurt. It’s not that you’re scared or anything, you know that he would never ever hurt you, you’re just sad that it has come to this. 

But seeing you flinch clearly affects Carmen, his frustrated expression softening, turning into an expression of guilt and regret instead.  

You swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure before saying what you need to say. “I love you, Carmen, and I want you to be happy. But I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself in the process.” you’re taking a deep breath before continuing, “you’re scaring me.” 

Carmen’s gaze meets yours, the expression in his eyes breaking your heart. “I never wanted to scare you. And I-I would never hurt you.” 

This makes your heart break even more, yes you had flinched at his tone of voice, but not because you in any way had thought he would physically hurt you, never. The thing you’re scared of is that he’ll end up hurting himself…  

You reach out to take Carmen’s hand, wanting to assure him that you understand his intentions, but also wanting to convey the depth of your concern.

“I’m not scared you’ll hurt me, Carm. I know you’d never do that. I’m scared you’ll hurt yourself.” Tears are now streaming down your cheeks, your voice trembling as you’re about to unveil your biggest fear in all of this. “I just don’t want you to end up like Micheal, okay… I was scared that the reason you didn’t come home was because you had blown your brains out on a bridge somewhere.”  

Carmen’s eyes widen at your words, a mixture of shock and pain flashing across his face.

He reaches out to gently wipe away your tears, his touch warm and comforting. “I’m not going to end up like Michael,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “I promise you, I could never do that to you.”

You hold onto his hand tightly, desperately seeking reassurance. “But Carmy, you’re pushing yourself so hard. You’re not taking care of yourself, and it scares me. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t live without you.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wants to let go. “You don’t have to, I promise you.” His voice cracks with emotion, and you can feel his tears dampening your shoulder.

You hold onto him just as tightly, your heart breaking for the pain he’s been carrying alone and you’re just so happy that he is finally letting himself cry.  

Carmen pulls away slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of gratitude and determination. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m so grateful to have you by my side.”

You smile through your tears, relieved to see him opening up and acknowledging the need for change. “We’ll figure it out together. We’ll find a way to make things work.”

“Yeah, we will,” he nods, before continuing. “I… I actually started going to Al-Anon, I go three times a week.” 

You’re taken aback by Carmen’s revelation, but also immensely proud of him for taking this step. You gently squeeze his hand, your love for him growing with each passing moment. “That’s amazing, Carm,” you say softly. “For how long?”

“I started going two weeks ago, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything earlier,” he admits, a hint of shame in his voice. “I guess I just needed to take it in my own tempo.” 

You shake your head, wiping away your remaining tears. “It’s okay, Carm, I’m just so glad you’re looking out for yourself.” 

Carmen takes a deep breath, his gaze filled with renewed determination. “I really don’t deserve you, thank you for not giving up on me, even when I pushed you away. I love you so much, and I promise I’ll find a way to make this work.”

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling a sense of hope and unity. “I love you too, Carmy. And yeah, we’ll face this together, one step at a time.”

Thank you for reading! ♡ this is my first time writing for Carmy and I had such a blast writing for him, but I also was a little intimidated by this piece, so please let me know what you thought ♡

[fishfooddude]

No Phone Policy 3.0

Baby girl Berzatto needed a metal name, and this felt like the choice, ya know?

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 2

“Hi, beautiful… oh, this is hella trippy buggies. I remember holding you for the first time, and now I’m holding my granddaughter for the first time…” your Dad laughed as he stared down at the tiny pink bundle in his arms. You smiled as you watched him pace beside your bed. “Where’s Carmy? I have a present for this little princess—I’m surprised he isn’t glued to her, or you, for that matter.” 

You grinned as you adjusted yourself in the incredibly uncomfortable hospital bed you’d been in for the past 48 hours. “He went home to grab me some stuff I forgot.” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your bluff. With a narrow stare, your Dad nodded. He could tell you weren’t telling him something, but he didn’t want to upset you by pushing the topic. 

“Well, what did you two name this perfect little angel?” your Dad questioned as he handed you your daughter. You shrugged, “Haven’t decided yet… the papers are over there on the table, but we can’t decide.” 

“What were you two thinkin’? I’m team something unique and magical, especially since that lil girl was born on one of the most magical days of the year.” he smiled, putting a hand over his chest. You chuckled and adjusted the infant in your arms.

“July 23. Best day of your life.” you answered, “You know, I know the story by heart… but she hasn’t heard it yet.” the sing-song nature of your comment made your Dad lean forward in his chair. “Baby’s first Grandpa story! May I?” he asked, offering his hands to you. You laughed as you handed the baby back to him.

“I better get my daughter back, Dad,” you playfully scolded as he held her close to his chest. He shrugged and responded, “No promises. She’s my new favorite person in the world—your Ma and sisters, and the boys are a very close second, but right now—it’s all her.” 

“You hear that gorgeous? Grandpa has known you for 30 minutes, and your greatness has already superseded your Mommy’s. You’re my perfect lil angel.” he cooed. As he babbled at her, you rolled your eyes, “Tell the story, Grandpa.” 

He scoffed in your direction before turning on the story-telling voice he would use when telling your nephews' stories. “The year was 1986. Your Grandpa was traveling with one of the greatest bands mankind will ever know, Van Halen. Metallica is also a pretty fuckin’ awesome choice for music- don’t let your Daddy ruin your taste in music, princess. You will be my little metalhead.” 

“Dad.” you scolded. He shot you an exasperated look, “He’s not even here bonding with his daughter. I’m GOING to shit on his shitty taste in music.” he challenged. He noticed your subtle wince when he brought up Carmy for a second time. Something was going on, but he didn’t dare bring it up, “Ok, ok, I’ll stop shittin’ on Carmy. Back to baby’s first Grandpa story.” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the baby in his arms. 

“Grandpa was in St. Louis. I’d followed Van Halen for 12 weeks across the continental United States. I was broke as shit, hungry as hell, and I STANK. I’m at the truck stop right- there’s this little diner called Olivette. I ordered the cheapest breakfast I could, and at the end of my meal- this GORGEOUS waitress brought me a piece of gooey butter cake- a Missouri delicacy, in time you’ll have your fair share, princess.” he assured the gurgling bundle in his arms, “The waitress goes, ‘it’s on the house sugar’ in this cute ass little twang and I about died. That was your Grandma Dottie.” 

You smiled as he continued the story. He went in to explain how he’d worked up the courage to ask her if she was going to the Van Halen show that night, and when she said ‘yes,’ he knew she was the one. You laughed as he explained that his mutual love of music had brought him an amazing life. 

“I met Dottie on July 23, 1986, so the fact you were born on July 23, 2024, is a sign. I think I can convince your Mommy to give you a metal ass name. Auntie Pamala was named after Panama- the best Van Halen song. Your Mommy’s middle name is Olivette because that’s where I met your Grandma. Then Auntie Mars is Mars because Grandma wouldn’t let me name her after Lars Ulrich, but Mars was acceptable.” you laughed as your Dad explained the Y/L/N family lure. “Your Auntie Pam is my favorite, though- she named her boys after Eddie and Alex Van Halen.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I love you, Daddy, but I’m not naming my daughter after Van Halen or Metalica.” He scoffed in response. What about Pantera or Megadeath? I’m just sayin’ with a last name like Bearzatto. She needs a metal-ass name.” 

You laughed as you collected your daughter back from him, “Okay, buggies, I love you, and I’m really proud of you. Not just for procreating but for everything you’ve done. Your Ma would be real proud, too.” 

~

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a name yet?” your sister Pam laughed as she cradled your daughter in her arms. You shrugged, “We just can’t decide.” 

“Didn’t he insist on some Van Halen reference?” Mason, Pam’s husband, laughed as he entered the room with a brown paper bag. You shook your head, “He gave her three band onesies, but I think I got out of the Van Halen references.” 

Mason shook his head as he placed the bag on the end of your bed, “I wasn’t sure what you’d be cravin’, but I figured a sub and chips was a safe bet.” he grinned. “Thanks, Mason.”

“What about Jade Van? Dad would freak over the reference.” your baby sister Mars laughed as she put her head on your shoulder, and she snuggled closer to you, craning her neck to get a better look at your still-unnamed daughter. You shook your head, “I don’t know how Carmy would feel about that one.”

“Bitch. He isn’t even here. Name her whatever the fuck you want.” she said with an overly dramatic eye roll. Mars was the only one who knew about the issues you and Carmy had been going through, but you couldn’t stomach telling her that Carmy missed the birth. 

“How about Blade? Blade Berzatto—fuckin’ metal, right?” you joked, trying to brush Carmy out of your mind. Mars erupted into laughter,, which startled the baby in your arms. You cradled the baby and nudged Mars to shut up. “I love it. But let’s go more norm-core,” Mars said as she ran her thumb against the baby’s chubby cheek.

~

“Are you an Erin? Jasper? Kali? Luna?” you listed off baby names as you did skin-to-skin after the baby’s afternoon feeding. You were finally done with visitors for the day, and you’d turned your phone off to avoid dealing with Carmy. You’d inevitably have to talk to him at one point, but having at least one more day of peace was a priority right now. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but it was a safe assumption that he was probably working himself to the bone at The Bear. The Bear… Bear… “Wolf.” the name came to you. “Wolf Berzatto… Daddy goes by Bear. We were calling cub while I was pregnant… you don’t call baby wolves cubs, but I like it. You do need a middle name, though. I know Daddy liked the name Bonnie.” you rattled off before leaning over to kiss the baby’s hat-covered head. 

“What if you hate the name Wolf? I mean, you could go by your middle name or a nickname… Daddy’s name is Carmen, but he goes by Carmy. Okay, Wolf Bonnie Berzatto. I like it, and if Daddy doesn’t, he can suck my dick. Am I swearing too much around you? I feel like I am.” you laughed, “Okay… also, you’re only getting your Daddy’s last name because I changed my last name when I married him.” 

“Wolf… that’s quite a name,” Natalie awkwardly complimented, trying not to pass too much judgment on her niece. She can go by Bonnie if she hates it.” You defended your name choice for the hundredth time in the short eight hours since announcing her name to your family group chat. Turning your phone back on had been anxiety-inducing. Carmy had left you hundreds of texts and voicemails begging to be allowed in the hospital room and apologizing for anything and everything he could think of. It was endearing, but you were still pissed off. 

“Does Carmy know about the name choice?” Natalie carefully prodded as she watched you shove stuff into your bag. You shook your head, “I haven’t talked to him yet.” 

Natalie knew you hadn’t talked to him and knew about you barring him from the hospital. He came back to the restaurant. Natalie had seen Carmy upset in the past, but this was a different kind of upset. He went off on Richie about the ‘no phone policy’ he’d enforced on all staff. Carmy was never a fighter, but Marcus and Sweeps had to hold him back after Carmy had punched Richie in the side of the head.  Richie, visibly disorientated, screamed a ‘what the fuck’ alerting the kitchen staff of the fight going on in the thankfully empty front of house. It took a while for Carmy to calm down enough to tell anyone what had happened. Richie apologized but said Carmy missed the birth, which wasn’t his fault. It was Carmy’s fault. Richie went off about Carmy knowing your due date and how he should’ve planned better and asked for an exception to the rule. 

Natalie sighed, remembering how that comment had riled Carmy up again. She drove him home while he called you repeatedly, getting progressively more upset each time his call went to voicemail. “She can’t do this to me, Sugar- I know I fucked up, but-but she can’t-” Carmy stopped midsentence and began rocking himself forward and backward in his seat. “Carmy, wh-wh-what can I do? How can I help you?” Natalie begged as she parked in the driveway of the house you two owned. “Do you have a fuckin’ time machine so I can go back and not miss the birth of my fuckin’ daughter!” he screamed, making Natalie freeze in her seat.

Natalie stayed with Carmy the entire time you were in the hospital. He was a mess. He flipped between extreme rage and full-blown panic. He ranted about how you were going to leave him and prevent him from seeing his daughter. He cried so hard he threw up multiple times. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. Natalie had never seen her brother like this before and was at a loss for what to do. 

When you called her to come pick you and the baby up from the hospital, she didn’t know what to say. You’d asked her not to tell or bring Carmy, which she understood, but it still conflicted her. You hadn’t filled her in on Carmy’s minimal involvement with your pregnancy the past weeks, but Natalie could put two and two together. After enlisting the help of Syd and Richie, Natalie felt as if she could leave Carmy and come pick you up. 

“Are you okay, Nat?” you questioned as you strapped Wolf into her car seat. It’s nothin’. I just feel really guilty that I’m meeting my niece before Carmy had the chance to…” Natalie explained as she crossed her arms over her stomach. You knew Natalie had a point. You felt that same guilt. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with your husband and daughter. 

You sighed, “Well, I guess I have to talk to Carmy at one point, so let’s go.”

Part 4

[leviathanspain]

kiss it off me

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: the woman who made him a man is back in town and he can barely hold it together

a/n: i tried to make it cohesive without rushing it, but oh well..enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

no one ever forgot their first time.

it was the sweetest taste, your cherry flavor stained lips, chapped from the dry chicago heat. he remembered the way they felt, soft and rubbery, his teeth had caught on them. then the fruity flavor had turned to iron, but he still kissed you as hard as he did the first time.

after he had bitten you, you had asked gently if he had ever done this before. carmen answered honestly, and you promised you’d teach him everything you knew.

but that had been years ago, and a lifetime of memories had occurred since then, that when richie had mentioned your name, carmy couldn’t place you.

“what was it again?” carmy asked, hands on his hips as he thought hard of what richie had just said.

“y/n. come on, cousin, don’t tell me you forgot!” his neck vein popped out, and carmy shook his head, his hands rubbing across his face as he thought hard.

“was she in school with me? how do you know her?” carmy shot out any questions that could connect you to him in his mind. it sounded familiar, the way richie said your name with thousands of memories behind it.

richie shrugged, “you brought this girl around to every single thing your family threw! she was your little girlfriend-“

“holy fuck- penny?” it was as if all the gears in carmy’s head had finally turned at the right time. he remembered you, of course he remembered you. he had to sift through all the bullshit of the past decade but now, it was like a fresh breath of air.

“penny? i swear her name was y/n.” richie raised his eyebrow, “i saw her at some magazine stand down the street, and i swear she looked familiar-“

“pennington. penny’s for pennington. i-“ carmy chuckled slightly, “mikey called me bear once, when she was around. and she had wanted a nickname like that.” richie could see the warmth in carmy’s face as he talked about you.

richie nodded in response, giving a second for carmy to come back down to earth. “i invited her to opening night. she’s one of those people who mold shit outta clay-“ he demonstrated with his hands, carmy’s eyes just staring out.

“cousin-“

“you invited her to opening night?” carmy echoed, and richie stared, hands falling onto the counter. he nodded, irritated with carmy’s absentmindedness.

“i want to be someone to be remembered.” the crinkle of the empty beer cans underneath your feet, followed your speech, “i want to be an artist!” your hands shot out, the drink in your left hand had partially spilled, but you didn’t seem to notice as you took another swig of it.

carmy’s face was hot. he felt it heat up after his first drink, and now had spent the entire night nervously pulling at his collar, trying to keep up with you.

you had driven him out to the suburbs in your mother’s beaten up volvo. he had gotten drinks, but hadn’t revealed how. but it didn’t matter, as the two of you were out, feet dangling above the ground, sitting in the trunk.

you turned to look at him. he looked beautiful in the moonlight, his blue eyes were deep, like pools of water that you wanted to get lost in.

“don’t you want to be an artist too, carmy?” your voice was soft, set to the pitch of innocence as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek. carmy was shy, eyes always darting away from yours, hands drawn up to his sides. it had taken a lot of convincing for him to even come out with you, but with the beer he had brought, you realized he could still surprise you.

it was in between your question and his answer that you had kissed him. it wasn’t the first time, there had been many more times since. but the passion was the same, the desire for more was always weighing heavy.

“yes..” carmy spoke, closing his eyes as your hands began to unbuckle his belt. he shivered, grabbing your hands, he helped you undo his belt, breath hitching as you kissed him harder.

carmen had been incredibly stressed all day. he had been stressed ever since richie had told him that you’d be coming to opening night. he had tried not to induce an attack, last time he saw you there had been a fight, and it was silence ever since.

but now, just the idea of your presence loomed over him like doomsday. today, even without you, could make or completely annihilate his career. but he was ready to face either or. you had taught him that, better or for worse.

“hey cousin!” richie thundered through the kitchen doors, his suit was dark and sleek, contrasting the chef coats everyone else was wearing. “y/n is at table five. sugar is talking to her, and it looks very,” he paused, and looked at carmy, “interesting.”

carmy sighed, “fuck.” he was busy, too busy that it should be inhumanly possible. he grabbed a towel, one that hung loosely over his shoulder and wiped his hands, “what did she order?” he looked around at all the other workers, looked at their plates and tried to guess.

richie smiled, crossing his arms across his chest as he spoke, “nothing.”

carmy had felt his face rise with heat as he slammed through the kitchen doors. he felt embarrassed, a little shocked even, that you hadn’t ordered anything for dinner.

he turned to the sound of sugar’s laugh, a familiar sound, he had found himself already walking over to the table. you hadn’t seen him yet, natalie had all your focus.

“hey-“ he greeted. sugar was the first to turn, and happily greeted her brother. you followed suit, but you didn’t say anything as the two exchanged a few words. instead you stared at carmy, years older, and completely unknown to you.

“hey bear.” you greeted, voice sweet on his name, you stood up, going in for a tight hug. he smelled of food, not surprising for someone who was just in the kitchen.

“hey pen..” he returned your greeting, and looked at his sister, who excused herself politely.

the two of you just stood for a moment, carmy watching as sugar circled around to talk to richie. carmy turned back to you, and extended his hand to your chair. you both sat, now face to face.

you looked different. the teenage invincibility had been exchanged for a confident, self assured adult. your eyes were still the kindest ones, he felt at ease just staring into them.

his eyes avoided your lips, avoided what they reminded him of.

“richie tells me your a sculptor?” carmy didn’t know why, but that was the first thing he had thought to ask. you laughed, surprised at his question too. but you nodded nevertheless, “yes, a local gallery is displaying some of my work. that’s why i’m back.” you played around with your silverware, and cleared your throat, “this is really lovely, carm. it’s-“ you looked around at it all, at the bustling scenery with various happy customers. “i’m really happy for you.” you finished.

carmy nodded, “yeah. thank you.” he blinked, and remembered what he had wanted to really ask. “are you not hungry or-“ you followed his gaze to the empty plate in front of you and you laughed, “oh- right!” you shrugged, “i don’t know actually. i guess i wanted to see if it was really you.” the way the words came out felt wrong, and you were quick to explain yourself.

“i didn’t mean it like that-“ you assured, and carmy laughed slightly, “i just hadn’t seen you in years that i almost didn’t believe it.” carmy nodded, “well, i’m here..im right here.”

the two of you locked eyes in that moment.

it was a special moment, something of substance that could ground carmy, and remind him of all the good things in life.

you tore your eyes away, and awkwardly laughed, “my show is next friday.” a card had appeared in your hands, and you were scooting it across the table to him, “i already gave one to your sister, and another to richie when i first saw him. you don’t have to come, i just figured-“ you looked around and he nodded, “yeah. no, totally. i’ll go.”

he found himself agreeing to go before he even fully thought it through.

he stood up, grabbing the card he tucked it into his coat. you looked up at him, eyes twinkling.

“bye carm.”

“bye pen.”

“you’ve got to calm down.” sydney had found herself at the end of an almost accident. carmy had forgotten the safe word, and nearly ran into sydney, who was carrying a large pot of boiling water.

she had set the pot down, realizing that there was something wrong with carmen.

carmy ignored her, and continued to furiously cook.

“hey-“ sydney put a hand on his shoulder but that seemed to make it all worse. carmy flinched, and dropped his spatula. he stepped back and shook his head, “back off, chef.”

“carm-“

“now.” his tone cut deep, and sydney nodded, annoyed with his response, she went back to work.

carmy’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. wind cut at his face, weaving through all the people on his way to the gallery.

he had checked the date and time multiple times, all day. he wanted to get it right, be there for you like you were for him. it had been a week since opening night, and he had thought about you every single night since.

you waited for him. people kept coming up to you, congratulating you on your new work, but none of it mattered. the work wasn’t for them, it was for him. and he was late.

“i could stay-“ carmy looked around nervously, eyes darting anywhere but the pools of pain in your eyes.

“no.” you bluntly said, “you will not stay here. you cant stay here. trust me carmen, you’re better off.” you had come to terms with the fact that if he stayed, he would be another mikey.

that’s why you had begged mikey not to let carmy work at the beef. he would never leave if he did.

carmy sighed, exhausted from the hours of arguing, “we’ll talk every day. i’ll- i can make time, between class-“ he tripped over his own words, and you had to stop him before it got worse.

“carmy-“ the way you looked at him made him realize that this was it. there was not going to be any calls, or any relationship because you were breaking up with him.

“i got into art school. i’ve been wanting to tell you, but i hadn’t made a decision.” you paused, “this is what’s best for both of us, bear.”

you had spotted him walking in. in the sea of pretentiousness, there he was. his wool jacket, perfect against the chilly weather, it had reminded you of all those winters during school.

“carmy!” you called his name, and waved him over. he weaved through to you, and greeted you with a hug and a kiss, “hey.”

he looked around at all artwork, “looks incredible.” he realized that along with sculptures, you had paintings as well. it was a cohesive collection, something that would definitely get talked about.

but as he looked at more work, he realized with a pang what the theme was. you followed him as he walked all around the gallery, until he finally got the main piece of work.

it was behind a rope, a blue velvet rope on all four sides as carmy, in statue form, looked out into the room of people.

“holy shit-“ he sounded breathless, eyes glued to a perfect posed, stone version of himself.

you watched his expression, unable to decipher how he was feeling. whether he was happy about it or not, you couldn’t tell.

more people came behind you to admire the statue, and carmy looked away, “is that it?” you nodded, and reached out, “come on, there’s one more thing, exclusive for the muse.”

muse, he whispered under his breath. he was your muse.

you took carmy to the office of the gallery. you had set up shop there, your belongings were scattered across the desk. you walked up to the desk, and leaned against it.

carmy walked in after you, and looked expectantly at you. you sighed, “you were the reason i came back. this,” there was a window where the statue could be seen, along with other pieces inspired by him. “was for you. you’ve been something that i’ve been trying to make right.”

carmy shook his head, “i’m not some broken toy that you can fix, penny.” your nickname cut like a blade in that moment and you exhaled. “i know that.” you replied, “i just- i cant get you out of my head, carmy. for years i’ve tried,” you stood up off the desk, and walked towards him.

carmy instinctively wrapped his hands around your waist, sitting them perfectly on your curves. you both remained silent as you got closer. but he was pulling you in too, just too close for comfort.

“come on, bear.” you whispered, nose dragging across his cheek, you closed your eyes and hoped he’d kiss you.

carmy shivered, his grip on you tightened as he kissed your cheek. it was soft, innocent almost. you opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to his face as you pulled him in for a kiss.

it was new. you hadn’t kissed him since you were teenagers. he was inexperienced, but he was willing to learn. but now as you kissed him, you realized that he’s kissed hundreds of people since then. but you didn’t care. you loved his taste, cigarettes and everything sweet.

he kissed you harder, his hands tightening on your hips that it was almost painful. you couldn’t help yourself, you pressed against him, carmy’s back digging into the wall behind him.

“fuck-“ you kissed him more, lips dragging from his to his neck. he shivered, but didn’t say anything as you began to kiss him lower and lower.

the bustling noise of the people outside broke him out whatever this was, and carmy put a hand on yours, which was right on his belt buckle. “not here.” he panted right into your lips, “later you can kiss it all off me, but not here.” he felt naked, those people out there were gawking at his stone figure like some lost greek artifact.

he couldn’t do it now.

you nodded, lingering in his eyes, “of course, bear. time and place, i’ll be there.” you leaned in for a kiss, which carmy happily gave away. a part of him wondered what this would be. he couldn’t think, he wouldn’t.

“i’ll- im gonna go, pen.” he had taken a minute, looking at the door for a moment before opening it. he exhaled deeply, stepping out as the door shut behind him.

you watched him walk, his broad back being lost in the crowd of onlookers. you tried to ignore the urge to smile, but even then, you couldn’t hide it.

[blueaprondelight]

lost in translation | carmen berzatto

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

THE STRANGERS PHASE

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He likes to consider it your first date.

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?" He asks softly.

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

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

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

THE LOVERS PHASE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.” His voice is hushed.

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't say it-"

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made your heart ache. 

───

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

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

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

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

Translation: what now? 

THE ENEMIES STAGE 

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── 

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you were his favorite melody after all.

𓍢ִ໋🔪 ♡₊˚ 🧣・₊✧

shine on, shine on, my loves!

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

taglist ✨ (to be added please reply to this post in the comments!)

@wabi-sabi1090

@harrysmatcha

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@urdreamgirl12

@readingwithsass

@angelicflower2020

@wadupppp

- mae

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

My request could also work with carmy and Michael too btw 👀🤭 whatever tickles your muse

There Goes That Dream.

carmy berzatto x female reader, michael berzatto x female reader

warnings - pure angst. sorry about this. happy valentines day!

masterlist. inbox. valentines masterlist.

“What’s on your mind, Bear?”

Michael has been watching his little brother carefully for the last thirty minutes. Carmy’s deep in thought, lip bitten between his teeth, eyes unfocused and dissociated.

“Nothin.”

“Right.”

Michael doesn’t say anything else, just allows Carmy to sit in the silence for a minute. He knows he’ll have to fill it eventually.

“Just thinking about Valentine’s.”

“Uh oh,” Mikey laughs, shoving his brother’s shoulder. “You having big feelings, bud?”

“Shut up,” Carmy grumbles, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I’m thinking about asking someone out, but I’ve left it too late. It’s literally tomorrow.”

“Dude. That means it isn’t too late. You’ve still got loads of time.”

Carmy looks over to where you’re laughing with Natalie, both of you giggling over something she’s showing you on her phone. It’s always been like this, for as long as he can remember. You slotted right into the Berzatto family as if it was your last name too.

Carmen fell in love with you that day. He’s loved you every day since.

It’s been ten years, give or take. He’s learned to live with the fact that he loves you, the way people adjust to new climates, or life altering injuries. He knows he has no choice but to carry on.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both single. Unattached to anyone, ready for a new connection. And if that isn’t a sign from the universe, Carmy doesn’t know what is. He’s sick of waiting, sick of pretending like he wouldn’t take a bullet for you at any given moment. He figures it’s now or never. He’s waited long enough.

“Carmen,” Michael says firmly, shaking him back to reality. “Whoever it is - she’s a lucky girl. The worst thing that can happen is that she says no. You’ll be okay.”

Carmy nods, knowing that his brother doesn’t understand, not really - but he’s trying to. You’re not just some girl. You’re the girl.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna do it. Later tonight, I think.”

“Good man.”

Mikey leaves him alone, smacking him on the back as he goes. Carmy’s buzzing with anticipation, ready to finally commit to the one thing he’s thought about doing every single day for the better part of a decade.

He stands in the kitchen for a while, trying to concoct the perfect plan. Eventually, he figures that it is literally now or never… and he has to choose now. He makes his way out to the living room and over to Natalie.

“Sugar, have you seen-”

“She’s outside. Out front.”

She already knows who he’s looking for. Because he’s only ever looking for you.

Carmy swings open the front door, ready to yell your name, when he sees you.

You’re sat on the curb, with Mikey next to you. You look like you’re deep in conversation, your eyes never leaving the older man’s face. Carmy figures you’ll be done soon, so he waits on the front step for you.

You laugh, and Mikey gets closer to you, so your thighs are pressed together on the cold sidewalk. Your eyes are still on his, and there’s this look that Carmy can’t quite place. He’s never seen it before, but it’s intense - focused, grounded, warm. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach, suddenly. He doesn’t like it.

Michael cups your face in his hands, and Carmy knows exactly what’s about to happen. He can’t look away, no matter how badly he wants to.

You meet him halfway, leaning in to kiss him with a passion that can only be created by time. Yearning, pining, waiting - that’s what this kiss is. It’s an amalgamation of patience.

You separate, lungs heaving, beaming grin on both of your faces.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for so long,” Carmy hears you say. “Years, Mikey.”

You’re both laughing, blissfully unaware of Carmen’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces mere feet away.

Michael was wrong, earlier. The worst thing that could happen is this.

[starymoondoodles]

"and you never knew, how much i really liked you" - the smiths

some might call them doomed

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Program: Clip Studio Paint EX

╚═══════☆♡☆═══════╝

[tomshelbystitsfics]

Untitled Fic.

Eventual!Carmen x Reader

(this is just the beginning for the fic. its storyline/plot building. also the reader is midsize. not skinny but not plus. in the middle)

(im posting this its the beginning to a fic im writing & i just wanted to post this lil excerpt. hoping to get some feedback & see what people think! please, let it rip:)

Home. Home? What did that word mean to you? It was a noisy, dirty, yet charming city. An old house, at least sixty years old. Paint now peeling, gutters full of old leaves and shit. Home, a minute's walk across the road. Inside a warm dish of delicious food awaits. Michael hands you that first plate. There it was, the moment of truth. Determining if you were friend or foe. Not really though, just testing to see if you were a narc. (Later you would argue with Mikey that his logic made no sense whatsoever.)

You found a home in the dysfunctional, crazy ass Berzatto family. They quickly accepted you as one of their own. Having been Carmy’s best (and only) friend. Always so polite and sweet. Until Mikey or Richie pissed you off. They were always picking on you and Carmy. And sometimes they pushed hard enough to set you off. That is exactly why you’re all in this situation now.

“Fucking A. You ain’t gotta hit me that hard asshole! Seriously, it was just a fucking joke man! Lighten the FUCK UP!” Richie yelled. You sat across the island from him. Mikey was digging through the freezer. He was trying to find something to ice Richie’s face. You had given the bastard a black eye and a bloody fucking nose. Mikey was more than impressed. So was Richie, but he wouldn’t be telling you that any fucking time soon.

“I’m sorry Rick,” he scowled as you called him that. “I tried to warn ya that you went too far, but no, you just had to go there.” He just stared at you, deadpan. You sucked in a breath, cheeks puffed out. Head in your hands you let out the breath. Standing up and making your way in front of the man. A hand extended out, an olive branch.

Scoffing he smacked the hand away. Your chest tightened, Richie was basically your older brother. His rejection hurt, a fucking lot in fact. Not wanting him to see the tears starting to well up, you start to turn away. That is when you feel it. Two long, solid arms wrap around you. Twisting around, you rest your chin on his shoulder and grasp the back of his old ass hoodie tight. Fingers clenching the fabric.

“It’s all good Doll. I still love ya. Even if you broke my goddamn nose.” Richie held you, then after a beat, “I mean shit. My cheekbone feels like a grown man split it, kid.” The tender moment was over for now. Richie is trying to make a joke out of it. You smirk, shoving him by the shoulders into his previous seat.

“ ‘S what ya get asswipe! Quit fucking with her when she says. It’s called ‘boundaries’ cousin? Ever heard of the concept?” Mikey slapped a steak on his eye. The other man groaned.

“FUCK SAKES MIKEY! Please, could ya be a little more considerate or some shit? I already got rocked. Don’t need a worse fucking bruise.” Mumbling as he pushed Mikey’s hand away, holding the slab of meat.

“I am not eating that shit later Mikey, no fucking shot.” Giggling, you give the man a kiss on the cheek. “What’s for dinner anyways?” The dark haired man seemed to think for a moment, then said something similar to what landed Richie his shiner and fucked nose.

“Ask Carmy, I’m sure he has a few ideas for what he wants.” Wagging his eyebrows at you. The smirk was audible. Mikey seemed to be proud of himself for the quip.

“Y-You…motherfucker.. I swear I’ll end you, Berzatto. YOU BITCH, C’MERE.” You took off around the island to where he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Richie was screaming and crawling up onto the counter, “ You two fucks better watch out for me. My shit’s busted enough. Get the fuck outta here!”

The memories of Mikey and the family keep swirling through your head as you stand in front of the funeral home. It had been a year since you physically saw any of the Berzatto clan. Too many years since seeing your best friend. Carmen Anthony Berzatto. A name you desperately wanted to forget. The name felt hollow to say, a distant memory. A smoke show that never existed except only in the dark recesses of your mind. Brought up when you wish to torture yourself even more than usual.

Drinking in the cold Chicago air, you begin the trek up the stairs. One measly step at a time. Hoping to calm your racing heart. It felt like the organ was lodged in your throat, bound to come up in a grisly mess at any second. The walk into the foreboding building felt like it took light years and seconds all at once. Standing before the doors, hand hovering over the knob. Psyching yourself up you finally grasp the knob and starting to pull and-

“Fucking Christ! This is fucking insane.” A familiar voice barks out. The door was quickly and haphazardly thrown open. PANG! Jumping back it only caught your arm a bit. The pain was nice and a needed distraction.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone…” a small gasp of surprise and a tearful chuckle. Then a slow shaky intake of air, “Doll, is-is that you? Or am I just fucking nuts?” Desperation paints his tone. His words crack and waver with emotion, no, sadness and grief. And a bit of hope.

“Hey cousin, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Your voice was thick with the tears ready to be shed. Before you know you’re shoved into his warm chest. All you smell is stale cigarettes, and his woodsy, Ed Hardy cologne. The aroma of smoke, along with bergamot and amber soothes you. There was a time you despised this fucking scent. It was always too strong and pungent. Telling Richie he smelt like a hooker, wanting to piss him off.

“At least one of us is shaking ass and making some cash Doll.” SMACK! Richie shook his hips at you.

“You made it inside yet? ‘Course not, fuck. I-I’m sorry Doll, my brain is fucking lost. I-I don’t have a goddamn clue about what’s going on.” Apologizing and rubbing his nose roughly.

“Can’t lose something you never had Rick.” You smirk, jabbing him in his ribs.

“Hardy har. You got fucking jokes, eh? Nice, real nice…Shit.” Richie let out a loud sigh and looked at his feet, “Don’t call me fucking Rick man. Shit wasn’t cool when you were a kid, sure as shit ain’t cool now pip squeak.” He smacked you lightly on the back of your head. Reaching into his coat he grabs a cigarette, and swings the pack towards you. You quit smoking, a year ago. But, fuck it.

It is a funeral after all. Might as well take the edge off somehow. Being sober was fucking awful at times. You both finished the cigarettes in silence. After stubbing the cherry out, you gestured to the door.

“Think we should, uh, ya know?”

Richie swallowed his nerves and gave a single nod. The man had a hold of the handle before you could even think about it. Walking into one of the absolute worst possible moments of your entire fucking life.

[baisemains]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ taglist masterdoc!

💋 this is where you can request to be tagged in all future fics about the characters below

💋 this includes fluff, angst, and smut, but all content warnings will be listed at the top of each fic so you can choose not to interact if it's not something you're interested in, i won't take it personal

💋 you can choose which ship when you reply to this post, just write 'lottie x reader', 'sevika x mel', etc or you can also be tagged in everything for a character

💋 will continue to add characters and ships as i write for them

💋 check my navigation post for upcoming works as well!

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arcane:

mel medarda (x reader / x sevika / x reader x sevika)

sevika (x reader / x mel / x reader x mel)

the bear:

sydney adamu (x reader)

yellowjackets:

jackie taylor (x reader / x natalie)

lottie matthews (x reader / x natalie)

natalie scatorccio (x reader / x lottie / x jackie)

[devils-dares]

little fic i'm starting on (with the immense help from @gallaghersgal)

-----

“Was it fun? Out there in New York?” You ask, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff you two had hiked up to, fog kissing your shins. He shrugs, cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“S’nice, to get away from here. Had too much build-up, had to leave to get it out. Missed ya like hell though.” His cardigan is ratty, mothball scent and holes all over. It must’ve been sitting in a closet in Chicago, waiting for him to come home. “Nothin’ like it here, but it’s been too quiet since…” His voice trails off, the fresh pain of his brother echoes in the silence.

The quiet breathes its pain and sorrow in and out, the fog thick as ever. The grief is palpable, dense, and you hate it. He’s changed since he left, and you hate it.

[ambitiouspotions]

THE LAST STRAW | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — mikey has pushed you to your breaking point

word count — 4.6k

warnings — angst, addiction, suggestive speech, domestic dispute/heated argument, police involvement, mikey’s death

author’s note — *cough* anyways

mikey was late; that was the first annoyance you had encountered tonight. you sat at a table near the bar as you and your friends took turns taking shots as more people filtered in to come and send you their birthday praises. you had on one of those ridiculous sashes and tiaras to accompany your fringe skirt and sequined top. that outfit was the last thing you thought you would find yourself in, but your friends insisted that you looked like a shining gem. they insisted that you had been working too hard and needed to let loose for a night, and they were right you had been working too hard and entirely too much.

the moment richie and tiffany entered you looked at them with pleading eyes hoping they knew where your elusive boyfriend was. your only desire now was that when, or if, mikey did show up he wouldn't be riding the high of a lifetime off of unlabeled painkillers. you hated when he gave you that smug look that only accompanied him when he had taken his sweet release.

richie went to the bar, ordered them drinks, and chatted with the bartender, like mikey he always knew everyone. probably why they always made good friends, both of them chatty, boisterous, and friendly.

you had been frequently checking your phone in hopes that you had missed some call or text explaining where he was. the sad fact was that this wasn't uncommon; it was almost second nature, but you thought after begging him to be on time he would've followed through.

“hey, sweets,” tiffany said comfortingly as she took a seat next to you, nursing a cup of iced water. she was in the early stages of her pregnancy, but still wanted to be there for your birthday. tiffany had been the reason you had met mikey in the first place. she had invited you to richie’s birthday bar crawl so many years ago, and mikey was of course there. you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, and for once in his life, he realized that having a steady girlfriend might not be a bad thing. mikey was a loud roar, but you seemed to bring him down to a low growl. mikey and you had been virtually inseparable since the moment you connected, and richie was proud that his wife was able to find someone for his best friend.

“hey tiffy, you feeling any better?” you questioned, taking into account the dark circles under her eyes. the quirky blonde seemed to have lost some of her spunk due to her pregnant state.

“no, but tonight isn't about me. it’s about you,” she pulled you in close, placing her cheek against yours as she embraced you, making a faint smooching noise. “i know mikey isn't here yet, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be smiling; it’s not about him tonight.”

she was reinforcing that narrative well. it was your birthday. a night where you could finally relax without worrying about deadlines at work, wanting to strangle the patrons of the beef, or having any real responsibility.

“can i still be pissed he's not here and pissed that your baby makes you feel like shit?” you jest, rubbing her stomach lovingly.

“you can be pissed after you have a good time tonight,” tiffany kissed your cheek.

mikey came in, greeting your friends at the closest table near the door. he was looking for you; spotting that glitter tiara you were sporting was easy enough. he was fiddling with his hair as he inched closer through the crowded bar. he was in his normal clothing attire, a shirt from the restaurant and jeans. he didn't shave, his stubble present and rough.

tiffany waved him down, though upon seeing him your expression dropped. that look. it was there. that smirk when he finally laid eyes on you made your skin crawl.

“hey! my birthday girl!” mikey exclaimed, taking you into his arms. he pressed large kisses against your temple, smoothing over your hair. not only was he late, but he was high. now you wanted to get through the night; you didn't want to enjoy it; you wanted it to end. “sorry i was late; the meat guy got behind on his deliveries.”

you knew it was a lie. it was saturday night, and the meat shipment came every monday morning. he knew you'd be too embarrassed to out him in public.

you put on that fake smile that had been plaguing all of your photos together over the last two years. “it’s fine,” you assured him, leaning into his side, keeping that sweet act up in front of everyone who came to celebrate your birthday.

so like every night you wanted to compromise, more like coerce yourself into agreeing that your peace and sanity would only come from ignoring mikey's drug-induced state. even that logic was thrown out of the window when mikey's famous storytelling surfaced.

your group of friends gathered around, pulling up extra chairs from the other tables as mikey talked. he was always good at talking and making a memorable impression. you were sitting in his lap with his chin on your shoulder, being entirely too loud disregarding the fact that he was so close to your ear.

one of your coworkers, rachel, from the office, had been recounting the time of the annual halloween party. rachel had teased that you were the ‘fox’ of the office and that party had people on their toes seeing that you could get fixed up. she meant it in good fun, but mikey took it a step further.

“oh, hell, speaking of foxes, this thing, miss birthday girl, drives me crazy,” he insisted, with only one of his arms around your waist as he waved his free hand to talk. he lifted his head, situating you further into his lap. he didn't mind rachel's story, if anything it was another opportunity to brag. you, on the other hand, were trying to shimmy out of his lap to reach for the oversized fishbowl margarita hat richie and tiffany had purchased you as your birthday gift. the way mikey started talking only proved that you needed to be tipsy to contain your annoyance.

“she's a total smokeshow,” mikey finally understood the hint, letting you stand as he playfully slapped your ass as you stood. he was commenting like you weren't standing in front of him. you were now wedged between tiffany and rachel as you took a long sip of your drink. tiffany was rubbing your lower back as mikey continued to speak. mikey's eyes wandered around to everyone at the table, barely looking at you.

“this one time for valentine's day i got her those little panties with my name on the back of them. holy fuck,” mikey began again, as richie started laughing. you swallowed hard. suddenly your stomach was churning, you couldn't even continue to drink. you knew this story; you lived it. that stupid red thong with thick silver rhinestone letters across the band. with richie laughing that means he already told him one of the most embarrassing moments of your sex life. now, mikey was about to reveal it to your friends and coworkers in a public bar.

“mikey,” you interjected before he could continue on his tangent. it wasn't rude, but your tone of voice was more serious than it had been. he never shut his mouth when he was high. mikey's filter was long gone the moment he took those painkillers before arriving.

“what? no, it was funny,” mikey brushed you off. “y/n, had them on while i was hittin’ it, ya know, maybe it was more of a lil’ gift to myself, watching that ass bounce should be considered a fuckin’ crime, ya get me?” he took a beer bottle from richie's hand, leaning back in his chair casually.

“no, mikey, come on,” you gave a nervous laugh, setting your jumbo fruity drink behind you.

was he really going to keep continuing? he was going to push aside two warnings without a care.

he ignored you this time, looking at one of your male coworkers, aaron, on the other side of the table who was enjoying the other stories mikey had spouted so far. “okay, so i was convinced i could actually have a piece of cake for valentine's, right? like, man, you feel me right, that ass on valentine's day? yes, please,” he rambled, causing aaron to agree with a belly laugh and nod.

“okay, okay, you definitely understand. so i spit in my hand while i'm railin’ her and i'm trying’ to push my–”

“hey,” tiffany blurted out. “michael, i think you need to pick a different story. there are other people in this bar other than just us.” she didn't want to outwardly say that he was the cause of some of the awkward looks from your other co-workers, much less how embarrassed you were.

“tiff it isn't even that bad,” mikey claimed, taking a swig of his beer, and shaking his hand to remove the condensation after. “yeah, so i barely even put two fingers in her ass and she started screamin’. ‘bear, what the hell?! you gotta give me some warning!’” he was making an awful impression of your voice only adding to more of your embarrassment. he was telling this to people you worked with, and even at events like this when you weren't always professional to each other it was out of line.

you were now looking down at your heels; wondering how much longer you had until you would break. tiffany was tugging at the waistband of your skirt trying to remind you that she was there as she glared at richie for still laughing. more of a deathly, sharp stare that spoke ‘why would you keep laughing with the asshole who is making my friend upset?’

“i was tryin’ to take my fingers back out when she was tryin’ to pull away and she puked, fuckin’ everywhere.”

“yep, i threw up, are you done now?” your tone was snappy causing mikey's head to whip back to your sparkly figure.

“no, i wasn't done,” he was testing you, acting like he was the innocent party in this situation.

you were going to say something else, but due to the sudden tension between you and mikey more people only began to become more uncomfortable. suddenly a group of your coworkers that had carpooled together were affectionately patting your arm and bidding you goodbye. just like that the group was dwindling and you could do nothing other than watch them go. at least now they wouldn't be subjected to potential arguments, other stories, or mikey's erratic behavior.

tiffany was looking at you like she had seen a ghost.

“um, since we are going to brunch tomorrow, i think i better turn in too. i don't want to be too hungover to enjoy our rich girl shit,” your banter with tiffany was less playful than it usually sounded. you didn't want to keep standing in the bar with less and less of your friends who were simply too embarrassed to leave. you needed to get home.

“yeah, just text me, uh, happy birthday,” tiffany pulled you in tightly. her heart was aching for you.

the moment you and mikey were confined in your apartment you locked yourself in the bathroom. the sequined outfit was rubbing your armpits and hips raw from the rough material.

“ya gettin’ all sexy for me in there?” mikey questioned, lightly knocking on the door as he leaned against the wall. “hey, really though, you mad at me, dolcezza?”

you opened the door as you were twirling the end of your hair to create a loose updo fastened with a claw clip. “you can't be serious,” you scoffed, tying the string of your pajama shorts.

“i can lay some excellent pipe for your birthday, don't worry,” he said, holding your waist and pulling you into his chest, one of his hands resting on the curve of your ass.

what a wonderful and considerate gift, michael.

“you embarrassed me in front of the people i work with,” you knew that wasn't the only reason you were upset; you had a list, but you didn't want to lay into him on your birthday. you wanted to sleep. you didn't even have a buzz from the liquor you consumed to try and lessen your upset. you thought it would be easier to ignore him for the rest of the night.

“don't start, it was funny and you got offended because you're sensitive,” mikey’s nose was buried in your hair as he spoke. your entire body was tense, a sour taste being left in your mouth as he spoke. “and don't get me wrong you're sensitive and i love that about you, but come on, everyone was having a good time except for you.”

“they didn't know what else to do, you were making everyone uncomfortable,” you couldn't believe he dared to try and defend his actions right now. you had pulled away from him, now sitting yourself on the edge of the unmade bed. you were trying your best not to get worked up, but mikey was not de-escalating the situation.

“oh, so i'm the bad guy now? dolcezza, be serious, you're just worked up because i was late and it put you in a bad mood.” mikey was pushing your emotions aside again, still trying to keep up his playful mood. he stood in front of you, his thumbs stuck into his denim pockets.

“you promised me you would be on time,” you were plucking at a loose thread on the grey sheets, kicking your foot nervously. your voice was low, knowing no matter what you said mikey would have an excuse, snarky remark, or some sort of half-assed apology.

“dolcezza,” mikey shrugged, looking to the ceiling. “ya gotta understand i’m busy. the restaurant keeps me held up and—”

“mikey, you were high when you walked in and then you lied to me…you’re still lying to me.”

“no, come on, i was trying to figure out how to get the gas line fixed, and then, fuck, i got stressed okay? i just needed something to take the edge off.”

you didn't know how truthful he was being, but what you did know is that no matter what it ended with him popping a couple of pills.

“i think i’m done,” you confessed, looking through him to the wall behind him.

“what’s that s’pose to mean?” he was scratching the back of his neck, so smug, yet you could tell he was panicking. his breath halted and his eyes were having trouble focusing now.

“i mean i can’t keep pretending like everything is fine when it’s not.”

“maybe you should start talkin’ to me and you wouldn't feel that way.”

you now held your gaze onto mikey, finally being able to pluck the loose thread from the sheets. you were twirling it tightly around your index fingertip, only releasing it when it felt tingly.

“maybe you should start listening,” your eyebrows furrowed. you had done enough talking, you had done enough begging, you had done enough apologizing for the pain he caused. you had kept the peace for long enough.

“oh, y/n, get real,” mikey huffed, taking a step closer. “it’s not my fault.”

“not your fault? mikey, you are delusional if you think none of our problems are your fault.” you stood up, still fiddling with the loose string.

“now i’m delusional?” he asked with a scoff.

“and an asshole,” you added, now feeling the months of pent-up aggression start to take the reins.

“i'm an asshole? only because i'm tired.” mikey retorted, coming into your space. his tall frame was towering over you. “i'm tired of trying to balance everything on my own shoulders while everyone just takes from me! you included!” he was getting heated faster than you could've imagined. he was aching for another pill to cut back from his spitefulness, but that would only add to your argument.

comical. really fucking comical.

“i work a full-time job and still end up working extra shifts for free at that shithole of a restaurant, and then i pull my pants down so you can fuck me. you fuck me twice mikey. the first time to orgasm and the second time to keep fucking me over!” you held two fingers up, waving them wildly in your frantic speech.

“that is fuckin’ low,” he spat, a strand of his bangs falling on his forehead, forcing him to push it back. “even for you, that’s fuckin’ low.” mikey grumbled, rolling his eyes in his fit of annoyance.

“you didn't have an excuse for that one. it must have been true,” you countered, pushing past him to find your phone that you left in the bathroom.

“i'm not done talking,” he argued, blocking the door you were heading towards.

“of course, you aren't,” you whined, holding your temples. “you never shut the hell up when someone asks you to.” you were still trying to get under his arm to enter the bathroom, but he only moved more of his body in the way of the door frame.

“oh, keep bitchin’ at me, sure,” mikey was tense, having to keep his hands shoved in his pockets when he wasn't talking because of how shaky they were. “does it make you feel better when you constantly bitch at me?”

“mikey, let me get my damn phone so i can leave,” you lightly shoved his side, only to be met with him pushing your shoulder in defense. his arms were now crossed over his chest. his hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“you're gonna walk away from me?” he asked in disbelief, though his position in front of the bathroom was unyielding.

“if you would let me get my phone, i would be halfway down the road,” you took a step back, knowing your mother would have enough sense to let you inside if you continuously banged on her door. you decide just to get some extra clothes and leave.

you began to rifle through the dresser drawers. his mouth was slightly agape, finally taking you seriously. he thought this was going to end like it did every other time. you would both have a temper tantrum, one of you would sleep on the couch, and in the morning you would apologize first and he would follow suit with some half-assed promise to do better.

“come on, dolcezza, let’s figure this out,” he said coolly, taking the clothes from your hand and pushing back into the open drawer. you watched the clothing leave your hand. he wasn't going to be in control this time. “we don't need to keep sayin’ things that hurt each other.” suddenly he was the one who wanted to find a solution.

you took to the silent card, seeing the vein on his forehead slightly bulge as you regathered your clothes. that was his least favorite thing you did. you were testing him; it was your turn.

you pulled your purse off the bedpost with your clothes tucked under your arm, walking past him to grab your phone out of the bathroom. mikey was watching your every move. though before you could exit the bathroom he pulled the door shut. you took a step back due to the sudden slam.

“talk to me and i’ll let you out,” mikey insisted, hearing you now begin to pound on the door. he was holding the knob tightly.

you began to kick the bottom of the door, it rattling against the frame and mikey’s strong grasp. “you gotta speak fuckin’ words, christ, i hate when you do that petty shit.”

petty shit? petty shit was holding someone hostage in the bathroom.

you let out frustrated grunts as you occasionally tried to jiggle the doorknob and throw your shoulder against the door. there was no hope mikey would be blocking that door until you gave into his demands, so you decided to play the long game. you sat against the door.

you had the bathroom if you needed it, now you had your phone, and the various finger foods from the bar were sitting nicely in your stomach. you wouldn't need to move for a while.

“one word, that’s it,” mikey’s tone was only progressively becoming more angry. you were pushing every button you knew.

mikey on the other side of the door was spiraling. muttering curses under his breath as he was now aggressively pleading with you to talk to him.

“fuckin’ christ, you make me so pissed when you do this,” mikey spouted, lightly hitting his head against the door. “you're the one that pisses me off the most, you know that?” he questioned spitefully, though even the hurtful phrase only gave you more of an incentive to stay quiet.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, can you just fuckin’ speak?” mikey goaded, now pounding on the door making you scoot to the side wall rather than have your back against the rattling door.

“y/n, why the fuck are you like this? actin’ like fuckin’ carmy,” mikey grunted, now kicking the bottom of the door. you heard a sharp crack, looking to the side seeing the tip of his shoe through the cheap wooden door.

you couldn't deny that he was right. you were acting like his younger brother, “the baby of the family,” but you also didn't care. you were safely contained in the bathroom while mikey escalated his outburst because you were done trying to work things out. you had spent too long agreeing to live within the deception and chaos mikey created.

“fuckin’ pissin’ me off!” he sneered, slamming his palm into the center of the door. “holy shit, really?” mikey asked in disbelief, a faint knocking and mumbling were heard from the front of the apartment. he knew what was happening, but you were oblivious until he started talking again.

“you fuckin’ narc, calling the cops,” he kicked the bottom of the door again. it wasn't you and you knew that, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing. you could only assume your neighbors had gotten sick of the bickering.

you didn't leave the bathroom until one of the officers had announced his presence. you peeked out of the bathroom expecting to also see mikey in the bedroom, but he wasn't there.

“mr. berzatto is outside talking to my partner,” the officer assured you, then continued. “your neighbor mentioned she heard some loud arguing and slamming,” the officer recited the words off of his notepad.

you stopped him with a sigh, already pulling a duffle bag out of the closet. “yeah, i’m just going to leave, he can stay,” you pushed the clothes that were previously in your arms into the bag.

“miss,” the officer paused.

“y/l/n,” you added.

“y/l/n,” the officer adjusted his tone of speaking, “you don’t have to press charges but by law mr. berzatto will be detained tonight and released in the morning.”

you shifted your gaze to the officer. you bit the innard of your cheek, shuffling through some of your other belongings.

“if this is a common occurrence there are outlets to help you.”

you shook your head, only wanting to move past the tangent the officer was going to begin. yes, mikey was stubborn, loud, and difficult, but so were you. unfortunately, those matching traits didn't always click together correctly. you both knew how to set the other off, and tonight was a night that also triggered the neighbors into annoying your neighbors enough with the squabbling.

“officer, as much as i appreciate what you're saying; it isn't like that. we had an argument and we both got too loud,” you explained as you continued to pack anything that would be able to be squashed into your old gym bag.

“speaking strictly as human to human, no one deserves to have a screaming match against their significant other…especially one that ends with an officer standing in your apartment,” he said lingering by the door frame, clearly eyeing the hole in the bathroom door.

“like i said it was completely out of hand, and i'm done anyway, so none of the other neighbors will call you again,” you assured the officer, struggling to zip the top of the bag when you were done stuffing it full.

“how many times have you packed that bag and come back?”

you didn’t answer him. you had threatened to leave mikey more times than you could count, yet you always doubled back. he was so easy to be stuck on because when he wasn't being an asshole or high out of his mind he was cooking for you, letting you talk his ear off, and singing to you mindlessly. there were countless other things you loved about mikey, and they were all things you thought about when you stayed a night at your mother's house as you sulked in your childhood bedroom, but when the officer asked how many times you returned it opened your eyes. you didn't want to return any longer.

the night of your birthday debacle wasn't the last time you saw mikey. after the officer left you spent the entire night packing what your compact car could hold and leaving the invaluables behind to mikey.

the night of your birthday debacle wasn't the last time you saw mikey. you saw him a week later at the beef. he had come out of his office, looking lost the moment richie said you needed to talk to him. you gave him the spare key to the apartment, the check for your half of the rent in an envelope, and a final goodbye.

“why?” mikey had embraced you for the final time. you eyes wandered around his disorganized office, sighing as you saw a picture of the both of you pinned next to a prayer card. “why’d you go?”

“if you're still asking why then it's probably best that i'm gone.” you only patted his back. his embrace was long and slightly uncomfortable.

it hadn't taken you long to get back on your feet. you had so much potential no longer being overshadowed by your demons of a drug-addicted boyfriend in the closet trying to claw their way out into the world. you were more focused and determined to succeed. you weren't exhausted from overworking yourself at a failing restaurant or compromising over a broken relationship.

you found yourself meeting with tiffany less only because richie refused to stop pestering her about you. you, nor tiffany, thought your friendship would be very productive if her husband was sniffing around for information to give mikey.

it also helped you not dwell on the past. tiffany was constantly apologizing after the breakup for introducing you to mikey, but meeting mikey wasn't what you regretted. you regretted being unable to help him. sometimes you felt like you gave up on him, leaving him to cope with his addiction, his crippling finances, and his multitude of other issues, but that wasn't the case. mikey had begun his steady decline long before he met you, and never wanted to help himself.

almost four years later you were staring at your phone in disbelief over the article you had read.

local restaurant owner found dead on state street bridge.

you hadn't thought of him in years, and if you did it was something irrelevant that you could easily brush aside, but reading that he was dead only made every emotion resurface. the closure you gave him was close to nothing because you didn't ever think he deserved it after the embarrassment he caused you. he was gone and would never receive that peace of mind.

[eufezco]

i wanna write about the bear so if you have any requests lmk 🐻 i can write smut, fluff or angst and i'll take requests for both carmy and richie 🫶🏻

[fishfooddude]

Creme Pie

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Part two to one of my Valentine's Day Fluff Fest Blurbs. Kisses

My Directory

The Bear Masterlist

As the day went by, Carmy could only think about the ‘kisses’ you’d given him that morning. It was no secret that he’d been crushing on you since you came on as The Bear’s project manager when Natalie stepped away for maternity leave, but Carmy, being Carmy, wasn’t sure how to approach that topic with you in a way that wouldn’t freak you out. Richie insisted that the crush wasn’t one-sided and that you were into him, but the voice in the back of Carmy’s head insisted that you were too good for him and a person like you would never be into a guy like him. Valentine’s Day was one of the worst days to work in the restaurant industry, people tried too hard to have the ‘perfect’ dinner out and subsequently the kitchens would get clogged up with people sending their orders back or asking for substitutions on prefix menus that didn’t allow substitutions unless it was allergy related. You giving Carmy those chocolates that morning almost made the shift bearable. Everytime he noticed you walk between the office and the bathroom or the coffee machine he felt a tingle in his stomach, he wasn’t sure if it would be qualified as butterflies but he liked it.

The shift was coming to an end and Carmy overheard Richie arguing with one of the waitresses. “What do you mean allergy send back?” Richie huffed as he shuffled through order forms, “Richie, I put it on the slip that she had a lactose allergy. I told her that the strawberry creme pie had milk in it, but she didn’t care.” the waitress stressed as she held the dessert in hand. “Mellie…” Richie sighed, “Okay, take them one of the extra chocolate bundt cakes and apologize for the inconvenience.” he quickly explained to the waitress before taking the original dessert from her. Richie was walking into the back of the kitchen to toss it when a thought popped into Carmy’s head, “Yo cousin.” Carmy called as he walked back to meet Richie before he could toss the dessert.

“What?” Richie asked somewhat frazzled. “I’ll take that off your hand.” Carmy said reaching for the plate, Richie shot him a confused look before plainly stating “Since when do you eat dessert?” Carmy shrugged in response, “Somethin’ about the strawberry creme. Syd said it was missing something.” 

Richie was satisfied with the answer and gave Carmy the plate. With the plate in his hand, Carmy mustered up the courage to walk into the office. He held the plate behind his back and waited for you to notice him. “Oh hey, Carmy.” you smiled, looking up from your computer. “Can I help ya with something?” 

“Remember when you gave me those kisses this morning?” Carmy tried to sound confident as he asked the question. You smirked at the question, “I pranked ya so hard.” you laughed. Carmy nodded, “Yeah you got me.” he started, “I uh- I have a question for ya…” 

You looked up at him curiously; you noticed his cheeks slowly turning pink as he cleared his throat. “You uh- want a… a creme pie?” you noticed how his voice went half an octave up when the words ‘creme pie’ exited his throat. He quickly jutted the plate from behind his back, presenting you with one of the dessert options from the night's menu. You laughed, “For that prank to work, you have to wait for me to say yes, and for future reference, maybe don’t ask your female coworkers if they want you to cum inside of them.” Carmy’s cheeks got redder as you laughed. He sputtered as he placed the plate on the desk, “I- I- I’m-”

You cut Carmy off by getting up and putting your hand on his shoulder, “Carmen, I’m fucking with you. Thank you for the creme pie; Marcus said they were really good.” you saw the stress melt off of Carmy’s face as you clarified you’d been messing with him. “But I do need to tell you, I’m lactose intolerant, but with the proper precautions, I can have a creme pie… both kinds.” you winked. 

Carmy swallowed hard at your words and nodded slowly. “Text me about non-work stuff. Maybe we can have creme pies together sometime, " you said softly into his ear before exiting the office.

“Such a tease…” Carmy muttered when he was finally able to breathe normally again.

[leviathanspain]

hi 🖤 idk if this is a good request? lol but i’d really like to read the ways carmen prefers to be with reader than claire/noticing she’s THE one and not the other way round, maybe there was a little bit of an overlap??? not necessarily cheating but- and how sugar or richie or syd notice that they are endgame

i wanna be yours

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: enemies to lovers, carmy likes the attitude he’s developed when he’s around you, far more than being with his girlfriend

part 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you knew he didn’t like you.

richie had hired you, after you had walked in with a pile of resumes, dropping off five copies of yours before walking off. he didn’t even get a word in, admiring your style of exiting instead.

he had called you not even an hour later and asked when you could start.

and here you were, a week into waitressing at the bear.

it was supposed to be this prestigious new restaurant opened by some hotshot chef. but you couldn’t be quite sure, chicago had just recently become your home. but quickly you learned the dynamics, except for him, who wouldn’t look you in the eye, let alone talk to him.

“y/n!” richie slammed a hand on the door, swinging it open, “third time calling, where is she?” he looked around in the kitchen, eyes searching for you.

richie looked at carm, who was just finishing a conversation with sydney, “yo cousin! have you seen your employee? her shift started twenty minutes ago!” his shouts drew eyes from the rest of the kitchen staff and carmy turned, sighing slightly as he walked up to richie.

“she’s your employee, cousin. you hired her, you deal with it.” his lip twitched up slightly and richie sighed, throwing his hands up, “it’s shot to hell, all of it!” he slammed another hand on the door and back to the front of house.

suddenly, you barreled through the kitchen’s back door, a bag on your shoulder, impossibly stuffed with belongings as you hurried to the locker room. carmy sighed with annoyance upon seeing you. he turned back around and tried to find something to busy himself with.

“hey boss,” you looked at carmy, who didn’t look up from his cutting, “sorry i’m late there was some-“ you had prepared an excuse! carmy didn’t say anything just shook his head, “don’t wanna hear it, go talk to richie.”

you felt your cheeks burn red with embarrassment as you bowed your head, shuffling past him and out of the kitchen.

“fucking finally! i was beginning to think you thought this shit was optional.” richie spat, throwing a towel at you, “start wiping down the tables for dinner.” you sighed, taking the towel off your chest, where it landed and stuck, and threw it onto a table.

for a moment, you watched as you wiped the table, before looking over at richie, who had his brows furrowed over the cash drawer.

“why does he hate me?” you had an arm on the counter, lips pouted slightly.

richie sighed, knowing exactly who you were asking about. “carmy’s just carmy.” you groaned loudly, “that’s all anyone ever says. it’s just an excuse for him to act like an asshole.”

richie shrugged, “that’s all i got. forget about it and just keep scrubbing, we don’t pay you for nothing, sweetie.”

you blew a breath out, doing just as he said.

“can you please tell carmy that i need friday off?” you hung onto richie’s arm, pulling him as he tried to run away from you earlier. you had been talking his ear off all day about your trip, and how you’ve been needing this.

richie pulled his arm back and held his hands up, “i’ll see what i can do. no promises though, friday night and it’s just me and you up here? we’ll see.” he tried to be realistic in a nice way, although he knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to get that day off.

“we’ll see isn’t good enough, rich. i really, really need this.” you had clasped your hands together to further express your desperation, and richie groaned, “ask him yourself then! im sick of having to be the bridge between you two.”

you blinked, “maybe if i knew why carmy hated me, then maybe i’d do something about it. but fine!” you walked over to the kitchen door, pushing it open. inside, you found the kitchen staff cleaning up. you refreshed your greeting with them before asking about carmy. sydney had directed you to the office, where only a dim light was the indicator that he was in there.

it took you a moment to build up the courage to knock, but the door swung open before your hand even reached it. carmy stood there, nostrils flared as if he had just taken a deep breathe, redness around his eyes, exhibiting his exhaustion.

there was genuine surprise on his face to see you, and you had to withhold a breath, “hey boss.” his blue eyes locked onto yours for a mere second before they floated away, resting somewhere on the wall behind you.

“what’s up?” his voice raised the question and you nodded, “right- i already talked to richie and he told me to ask you, and i don’t know if you’ll even say yes-“

“get to the point.” of course, you should’ve known by his fingers tapping against the door that he was getting impatient. he was important, and constantly busy, he didn’t have time for you or-

“i need friday off.” you breathed, feeling the release of your tension in your shoulders. you almost heaved just as he answered, unsure of what he would say.

“yeah, i guess that’s fine.” he shrugged slightly before clearing his throat. he closed his eyes slightly as your face lit up, “really? thank you, boss. i-“

“can i get past?” carmy interrupted your words and stared at the door, your body halfway covering it. “yeah- of course.” you scooted further into the office as carmy pulled on the doorknob. you felt the edge of the door tap your back, and you shuddered as it swung back and slammed as he left.

blowing out a breathe, you opened the door, eyes accidentally catching carmy’s, who was standing near the kitchen door. you looked away first, still reeling from the interaction in the office. as much grace as you’ve been giving him, it was getting exhausting having to hold yourself back.

“why is he so-“ you struggled for the words to describe your boss, especially to richie. you were frustrated, carmy’s constant dismissal of you, even when you were asking for something that would affect him and his workday, he didn’t care!

“y/n, it’s just cousin. he’s harmless, don’t worry about anything. you got the day off?” richie turned to look at you, your mouth still in a pout, but you nodded nonetheless, “yeah i did.”

“that’s good! just be happy you got it off, hmm?” he tried to be a mediator, tried to be nice and hear you out, but after hearing the two of you express your anguish over the other, day after day, he was getting sick of it. “why’d you ask for it off again? i thought you didn’t have a life.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stared at the ground for a moment, “that’s true. it’s my father’s- was, my father’s birthday.” you laughed slightly, pausing before speaking again, “he grew up here, going to the local theater with his father for his birthday every year. we’d make family trips every year to come back to chicago, watch movies with him in the same theater and share a slice of cake. after he passed, my sister and i were the only ones who did it for a while, but then she got married and suddenly, it was just me.” you shrugged, “and then i moved to chicago permanently, into the same house that my father lived in. and i got a job here.” you smiled weakly, “yeah.”

richie nodded, “yeah.” matching your tone of voice. he didn’t want to speak, letting himself sit with that. you were nice enough, a good kid, and he saw something in you, a little spark just wanting to be ignited fully. he didn’t know what it would take, but it seemed like you didn’t either.

carmy hadn’t realized that he had eavesdropped the entire conversation between you and richie until richie came into the kitchen, slamming the door against carmy, who had stood there, frozen, captivated by your story.

“cousin- get the hell out of the way!” richie barely glanced at carmy, too in a rush to even think to slow down.

carmy looked down at the door as he pushed the door open, out into the dining room. he looked up to see you wiping down the counters. you had a wet rag under your hand, and you were lost in thought as your hand moved in a circular, repetitive motion. you didn’t even notice him as he inched closer, unsure of what he was going to say when you noticed him.

“hey.” carmy realized he was speaking, and as you looked up, your attention. you couldn’t help but smile, this was the first time that you had seen him so still, and so in thought.

“hey.” you returned his greeting, letting the rag go, you turned your full attention to him. he laughed nervously and that made you smile even more. it was odd, how he changed so suddenly with you.

you raised an eyebrow, “is there something wrong?” he hadn’t said anything else, just staring in thought.

he shook his head, and returned himself to the kitchen.

“weird.” you exhaled, watching as the door swung shut behind him. how could carmy go from being the biggest asshole to you, to randomly greeting you then going silent.

you’d talk to richie about it later, but for now you had work to finish.

“claire.” carmy looked surprised to see his girlfriend. it was friday, and normally she stopped by on saturdays. “i thought you worked on fridays.” he pulled her into the office and claire shrugged, “i got off early, just to come see you.”

carmy nodded, “yeah. yeah.” claire raised an eyebrow at him, “i cant leave early tho. y/n asked for the day off and i didn’t realize how much she does so-“ he cut himself off watching as claire’s expression soured slightly.

carmy sighed, “i know- but i’m her boss, im going to have to talk to her eventually.” claire rolled her eyes, “god, i-“ she cut herself off and stood up, “that’s fine, carmen. i understand, really.” her tone sounded irritated as she opened the door. carmy found himself standing to rush after her, but stopped himself.

had he really made a judgement on you based on an experience claire had with you in grade school? so far, you hadn’t mentioned claire to be someone of the past, and carmy had wondered why.

carmy blinked, suddenly getting the urge to rush after claire. but as she walked right out the front door, carmy realized that he had been too late. normally, the guilt would set right in, but as he stared out into the dining room, he could imagine you standing at the counter, eyes shying away from his.

saturday had been a rough start for you. you had spent the whole night before, sobbing at the movie theater. your eyes had puffed up so much that you had to go home, barely able to see the movie through your tears. this time of year was rough for you, especially since your family hardly called. your father had been the glue to hold all your differences together, but it seemed not to have a lasting affect.

when you had arrived late to work, yet again, you had expected carmy to give you the silent treatment, or possibly even yell, but he hadn’t said anything.

except,

“i’m sorry about your dad.” he had looked down at the floor when he said it. you stared at him, shocked that he said anything to you besides the usual, and that he knew about your father.

“how long as it been?” more. he was talking more to you, “uhh-“ you couldn’t contain yourself, “two years. but it feels like-“

“yesterday. yeah i know.” he finished your sentence. “i lost my dad too. a while ago.” he shook his head, as if shaking the feeling that came along with it.

you nodded, holding a small smile that carmy had actually made conversation with you.

“thank you. and im sorry for your loss as well.” you brushed past him, still reeling.

months passed, changing things with time, including carmen.

not only had he become a better boss, but you could consider him a friend. transitioning to kitchen staff had made that happen, including moments that made you think of him as more.

there was no doubt of the chemistry you had with him. everyone noticed it, and sydney had half the mind to encourage it.

“you work so well together! he needs something and you’re there with it! it’s actually insane, like did you guys come from the same planet?” her voice got a little high as she rambled on and you laughed, “what planet would that be, syd?”

she shrugged, “something of greatness. i mean, he’s even said it himself-“

you held up a hand, ending her little ramble right then and there, “sydney. i am not anything like the world renowned chef that runs this place. im not even a sous! i was waiting tables just a month ago.” your hand pointed out to the dining room and sydney threw her hands up, “that’s exactly my point!”

you rolled your eyes, “please stop.” you couldn’t hear her anymore, not while carmy was just minutes from rounding the corner.

“want one?” carmy had noticed you were gone. the rush was starting to slow and you had decided to take a break, not knowing he would follow. there was a cigarette hanging in his mouth glumly, a lighter being tossed between his hands.

“i don’t really smoke.” you answered earnestly. carmy brought the lighter up to his mouth, taking a moment to light it. he inhaled, and you caught yourself staring at him as he exhaled.

“you don’t really?” he sat down, closer than he probably realized. you turned to look at him, eyes hooding as they focused on his cigarette. “mhm.” you answered, leaning a cheek on your hand.

you were reaching out before you realized, fingers wrapping around the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and into yours.

carmy watched you with surprised eyes, as you took a long, deep drag. you exhaled it, hand outstretched to return it. he took it, smiling as he chuckled.

“i’m quitting.” you admitted. looking at carmy, waiting for him to react. he didn’t, and you laughed, “did you hear me, carmen?”

carmy took another drag, pulling out the cigarette to flick it against the concrete step, “no you’re not.”

“i am- i already talked to richie and syd-“ you found yourself trying to justify your decision until he raised his voice, “no you’re not! i said no!”

you flinched, not used to having him scream directly in your face. he didn’t need to, and so he never did.

until now.

your ears were still ringing. you had been staring at carmy’s side profile for five minutes, as he stared ahead in silence.

finally, “why not?” the pure shock had kept you quiet, but you had built up emotion, and your voice couldn’t help cracking.

carmy shrugged, “just don’t. just give me time, alright.”

your frustration grew with his vague answer. he was refusing your resignation, and now he was refusing to tell you why?

carmy panted quietly. he had been in the office for more than twenty minutes, watching as he phone buzzed with call after phone call from claire.

he couldn’t pick up, not when his head was full with thoughts of you. he knew it was wrong, he knew that claire should be the only girl on his mind, but she wasn’t and he felt horrible.

he stared at the phone, swallowing thickly as he picked up the phone, opening a desk drawer and tossing it in.

ever since he had found out that you had no idea who his girlfriend was, and that her entire reasoning to dislike you had been a lie, it had strained his relationship. but claire had been close to catching onto his disillusionment, and it seemed like she reached it.

he opened the office door, breathing in deeply as he saw you in the kitchen, eyes red rimmed but still diligently at work.