#carmenmath
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sweet like you🍓
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.
word count: 2.1K
notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!
P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!
Saturday was farmer’s market day.
Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.
And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then.
He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.
He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.
“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.
“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”
“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.
“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.
“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top.
“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.
Ask for her name.
“Yeah...”
Her name.
“You too.”
You idiot.
He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.
Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes.
“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box.
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.
“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.
“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”
“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”
The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”
“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”
Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”
“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.
“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.
“Fuck you cousin.”
Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know.
He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground.
Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.
You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing.
“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm.
“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?
Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”
His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.
“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?”
Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”
“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.
Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.”
“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”
“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least.
“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.
“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!”
Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool.
“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.”
He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work.
He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating.
He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.
[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen
[unknown]: guy from the beef
[unknown]: next thursday work for you?
You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.
[y/n]: for sure!
[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))
#aster writes the bear#carmen berzatto#carmenmath#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear fic#the bear imagine#the bear#carmen berzatto fan fiction#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#jeremy allen white#jeremy allen white imagine
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nemesis; part two.
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.
♡ landing page ♡
word count: 4.9K
tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!
notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))
lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.
With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.
So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?
Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.
It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.
Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.
To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.
“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”
“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.
“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”
Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?
Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.
“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.
“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.
“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.
“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.
If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?
“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.
“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”
His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?
“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”
“Yeah?”
“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.
He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.
“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.
“Goodnight, chef.”
“Night.”
He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.
He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.
It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.
He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.
He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.
He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.
Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.
Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.
Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.
Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?
[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.
[carmen]: well
[carmen]: I want to apologise
[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this
[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person
[carmen]: if you’d let me
[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk
[carmen]: please
The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.
But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.
That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.
You wondered what that meant.
Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.
Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.
It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.
He had no choice but to look now.
Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?
You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.
“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.
“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.
It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.
“Do you want a coffee?”
“Sorry I was late.”
You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.
“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”
“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”
“Hm?”
“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.
You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.
You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.
Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.
Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.
“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.
“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.
“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.
“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”
“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”
“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.
“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.
“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.
"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.
"You don't do this often, do you?"
"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"
"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.
"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“
“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.
“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”
“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”
“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?
“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”
“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.
"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."
His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.
"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.
"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"
"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.
"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.
"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.
"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."
Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.
You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.
“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”
“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.
“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”
Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”
“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”
“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.
“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”
“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.
“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.
“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”
You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.
“I’m sorry?”
He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.
“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.
“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”
You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.
“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.
“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.
“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”
“…Is that you saying yes?”
“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.
“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.
“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.
Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.
“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”
You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.
He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.
“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.
“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.
“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”
“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.
“That you’re selling them the business.”
“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?
“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”
“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.
“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”
You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”
He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.
He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.
Never with him.
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#carmenmath#aster writes the bear#carmen berzatto writing#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto the bear#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto x y/n#jeremy allen white imagine#jeremy allen white fic#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto the bear fx
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nemesis
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: you made carmen’s life hell in culinary school, except you had no idea. now he finds out you run a restaurant in Chicago, and he’s confronted with the emotions he projected onto you.
word count: 2.9K
notes: kinda got inspired by the lyric "I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?" by lana del rey but this was prompted by this ask!!! anyway this starts off in carmy's culinary school era and then goes to somewhere around the start of S1. this will def get a part two!!
♡ LANDING PAGE ♡
warnings: cursing, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, angst
comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!
You were like the average person's depiction of an angel.
You were so incredibly good at what you did, excelling in every class they got, you were unanimously liked by everyone, always helping out your peers and taste testing, and for all he knew you probably fucking rescued baby polar bears in your spare time too.
You were perfect.
And he couldn't stand it.
Always saying good morning to him, with that sickeningly sweet smile, soft hands easily preparing the dishes he struggled to perfect. And that wasn't even the worst part. Because the teachers loved you too.
"Such an interesting spin on the use of this ingredient."
"I can tell you've really perfected this technique."
"What a unique combination of flavors..."
And they were right. Of course they were right, it's like you were a machine crafted in some kind of lab to outcook him in every way possible.
And it was stupid to be jealous, to almost hate you over it, because he was excelling too. But you were excelling more. His praise seemed worthless compared to yours, and he couldn't even dream of making the kind of connections you seemed to make with the other students.
So he grew to resent you. Even when he went to go work in New York, he couldn't shake the image of you standing in the corner of his kitchen, humming softly while chopping vegetables as you received all the praise he longed for. Some would say his hatred bordered on obsession, he would tell them it’s none of their fucking business.
Over the years, he’d managed to at least slightly shake the image of you in his kitchen, though at his lowest points, he couldn’t help but think of you. Of course Mikey was his primary motivation, but he couldn’t help but feel like possibly surpassing your success spurred him on too. But then again, what success? For all he knew, you quit cooking altogether, he hadn’t heard from you since he left for New York. That was, up until a few days ago.
It had been so busy already, and Carmen was spent trying to keep up with the pace of this business running on its last legs. He groaned into his hands, before going back to chopping tomatoes for his sauce.
“Hi! Can I just get a braised beef sandwich to go?”
Your voice made him flinch. He almost cut into his finger, that honey dripping sweet familiar voice sending a jolt of anxiety over his entire body. No way, no fucking way you were here, in Chicago, in the Beef of all places. He thought he must have hallucinated it, stressed out of his mind from the intense lunch rush they’d just had. But he had to know, he had to find out if you were there, setting foot in his establishment.
So he turned his head to peer over to the counter, and there you were.
Angel of the academy.
Arch nemesis of his nightmares.
Ordering a sandwich from his run down restaurant.
You barely looked any different, and the sight of your smile made his stomach drop. Or flutter. It did something to his stomach at least.
He was just going to let you leave, pretend like he imagined it so he could continue to live his life and believe you were out there pursuing anything besides cooking. But he couldn’t. He had to know, something deep inside him forced him to put his knife down and walk to the counter as you were heading to the door, and call out your name in questioning.
You turned, and when your eyes met he remembered how uncomfortable your eyes made him. How they’d make his face get hot, stutter, think about every mistake he’s made, like he was having an allergic reaction to your eye contact.
“Carmen?” Your voice was soft, unsure, as if you were coaxing a wild animal out of its cage.
Richie looked at Carmen, confused as all hell as to why his colleague was having a nervous staring contest with this random customer. “You know this chick or somethin’?”
He voluntarily ignored Richie’s question, getting from behind the counter and walking up to you. A part of him wanted to bolt, slam the door and tell the others to kick you out. Luckily for him, he’d become the more confrontational type recently.
“Holy shit, it is you!” A bright smile adorned your face, and he swore you were about to go in for a hug when you moved your arms, only to awkwardly cross them when he pulled away a bit. “What are you uh... Doin’ around here?” A stupid question, you were aware, but anything to make conversation with your long lost classmate.
The question made Carmen tense up. Although it was obvious he worked there, the Beef was not... In its prime condition, to say the least. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he owned it, but he wasn’t about to lie to you and make even more of a fool out of him in the long run.
“Makin’ sandwiches.” He sighed, looking down at his shoes for a moment, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. “So uh, what about you?”
“Ah, I run my own place like 25 minutes away from here.”
Ugh.
Of course you fucking did.
Of course you, star student that you are, owned your own restaurant in Chicago. He bet it was running so well too, and you didn’t have to worry about half the shit he dealt with on a daily basis.
“Ah, wait, here,” You reached into your purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. “We’ve been up and running for only a few months, but it’s going pretty well!” You clutched your hands together, excitedly awaiting his response.
“Cool, cool...” He held the card, carefully reading over every letter. Sunrise diner... Huh. “A breakfast place?”
“You got it!” You chuckled, slightly nervous as you moved back and forth on your heels. You hadn’t seen Carmen in ages, and besides the added tattoos, he truly hadn’t changed that much. He’d matured, surely, but his demeanor remained the same. Curt, bold, something distrusting about it.
“If you want, you could uh... Stop by, maybe?” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket.
Your question made him look up from the card, and a million answers ran through his mind. Did he want to? On one hand, he felt like if he spent any more time with you, he’d start feeling like even more of a failure than he already did. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be bad to scope out the competition, and who knows, maybe the place was shit, and he could sleep at night knowing at least both of your restaurants weren’t doing well.
“Sure, why not.” He shoved the card into his back pocket, crossing his arms. “I’m kinda swamped right now, but I’ll let you know. Maybe this weekend or something.”
“Sure, yeah, totally! My contact info’s on the card!” Your excitement almost made him distrust you even more. Were you planning something? Was this part of some elaborate scheme to drive his business into the ground? Either way, he’d find out sooner or later.
“See you around!” You waved him goodbye, heading outside as he stood there, no reply as the last thing that was heard was the jingly of the bell above the door.
Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back around, seeing Richie lean against the counter with a shit eating grin. “Ex girlfriend?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at him.
“Fuck off cousin.”
God, he wished you were just an ex girlfriend.
You were his biggest competition.
Usually when Carmen was up this early, it was to get some preparations done for the restaurant, or if he just hadn’t slept at all during the night.
But now he stood in front of your restaurant, and fuck, he had to admit, it looked good.
From what he could see from outside, the place had a very cozy feel to it. The theme was a mix of a 50′s diner and a casual breakfast spot, and from what he could tell so far, there was no lack of customers either. But that didn’t say much, maybe they were paid actors, right?
He entered and made eye contact with the barista behind the counter who offered him a warm “welcome” and a smile, before looking to the side and waving at someone in the kitchen. Not long after, you walked out, bright smile plastered over your face. He always wondered how you could be so energetic this early in the morning.
“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets, “nice place.”
“Aw, thanks Carmy!” Your chest warmed at the compliment. “Saved a seat just for you, just follow me.”
He was seated in a booth just for him, and he had to admit, he liked this setup. He could eat his food in peace at least. The vintage feel of the leather cushioning of the benches was pleasant, and the jazz music playing made for a pleasant atmosphere. He’d almost say he would visit a place like this outside of work hours, if you weren’t the one running it.
He looked over the menu, noticing a wide array of breakfast sandwiches, pastries, milkshakes, and the usual coffee arrangement. Nothing too crazy, though he secretly wished he could have chosen something difficult for you to make.
He ordered an eggs benedict sandwich with smoked salmon, a coffee, and a cherry danish. Should be a pretty good test to the culinary quality of the place, he thought.
A waiter came by to drop off his food soon after, and he hated to admit his mouth watered at the sight of it. Everything looked so fresh, and the plating was very pretty too. But cuisine isn’t about how stuff looks, if it was, the Beef would have never existed, that was for sure.
He dug in with his knife and fork, and started eating. He sat through his entire meal in complete silence, simply going through the motions of enjoying a normal breakfast. The barista watched him with careful eyes, as if he was Gordon Ramsey and they were a shitty bakery on the verge of bankruptcy.
He put down his fork, taking a deep breath.
It was fucking delicious.
And every moment he’d spent enjoying it made him angrier and angrier.
So he got up, seemingly in a bit of a hurry, and stormed outside, the door hitting the wall with a loud thud when he exited.
You watched it happen from the doorway to the kitchen, face painted with worry.
“Carmen! Carmen wait!” You started to catch up with him as he walked over to the parking. He didn’t like it, you thought, no, he hated it, he hated it so much he couldn’t even dignify you with a moment of feedback.
Carmen’s face ran red as he could practically hear the blood rushing around his ears, hands starting to reach for his pack of cigarettes as you approached behind him.
“Please, just tell me what was wrong, I-I’ll change it, I can make you something new, off the menu, w-whatever you want, I--”
“God, do you ever shut the fuck up!?” He turned around, yelling loud enough to have you frozen in your tracks. His pack of cigarettes was squeezed tightly in his hand, crumpling the cardboard packaging under his grip.
You felt the paralyzing effect of his loud and furious voice, a cold sweat running over your body now. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything else, he stepped closer, and you didn’t even have the guts to back away.
“Every day in culinary school, you made my life hell! The one thing I have ever fucking excelled at, been noticed at, felt like I should have been alive for, you overtook me in!” His ears rang, and any noise besides his own yelling was muffled.
“You, with your perfect knife skills, endless patience, and your little angel fucking face, always at the back of my heels, the corner of my damn kitchen, making me feel inferior! And then-- then I finally get away from you, think I’ve got some direction in my life, feel a sliver of confidence in my abilities, and what do you fucking do!?” He points at you, finger just an inch away from poking into your sternum.
“You enter my city, my restaurant, and just come and remind me about how much better you’re doing! Because you love to make me feel like I’m worthless, liked I’m always 5 steps behind, don’t you?” He furrows his brows. “Tell me! Tell me that’s why you’re here, because you want to shit on my work, and make me feel worthless!”
You can feel his hot breath on your face, and your knees start to feel weak. You open your mouth, and the tears that had long been building in your eyes start to roll down your cheeks. The first noise that comes out of your mouth is barely half a word, strangled between the knot in your vocal cords that had formed out of fear. You swallow, and finally manage to speak up.
“Carmen, I-I’m... I’m so sorry...” You sob.
The person you’d looked up to since day one of culinary school thought of you as a bully. And you had no clue.
You knew Carmen didn’t like you, but you never knew he hated you this much. You’d noticed the tension in his jaw as you received good critiques, the strengthening grip on his tools when you got close to his station, the lack of eye content he provided when you did briefly talk. Just as much as you noticed his amazing instinct for flavor profiles, his ability to improvise, his insatiable urge to keep going.
It inspired you. So you kept going too. Even though deep down, you’d wish he acknowledged your work.
And now he did, he finally did, but not in the way you’d always hoped for. The man you’d always admired, who was awarded Chef of the Year the same year you considered giving up entirely, was currently inches away from your face, watching you cry.
His expression softened just a bit, and the surrounding sound of cars passing by and distant jazz music finally came back to him. You were sorry. So sorry. You looked like it too, hands clutching the fabric of your apron, shaking slightly, cheeks stained with tears. Shit. Shit, he’d really messed up.
“I-I didn’t... I didn’t know, I swear, I never meant to, I was just--” Your voice broke between sentences, “I was trying to keep going, keep holding on, and you were so... You inspired me, y-you’re...” You swallowed, looking to the side, afraid to face his scowl. “You’re the reason I settled in Chicago. I wanted to-- to work with you, or for you.”
You remembered trying to reach him, but he’d changed numbers, and with his severe lack of social media, trying to find him was damn near impossible. By the time you were ready to start cooking again, the year you heard he won Chef of the Year, you found out he was based in Chicago. You searched online, but to no avail. You figured your best shot was to try and start something in the city, and pray to whatever god would answer that maybe you’d cross paths again.
He stood still, head still reeling and processing what you were saying. This was new information for him, and that changed... A lot. You, the person he’d spent like half of his career trying to catch up to, admired him. He’d almost think you were lying if it wasn’t for the tears streaming down your face, he started to realize just how badly he’d acted out just now.
“I--” He started, taking a step back to get out of your personal space. “Fuck, I should-- I should go.”
You stood there, arms crossed, enveloping yourself and avoiding his eyes like a wounded animal. And the best thing he knew how to do at the moment, was flee the scene. He sucked at his emotions, hell, he could barely even handle his own, how was he going to help you after just cussing you out.
So he backed away, leaving to the nearest metro station to get out, leaving you alone outside.
Carmen got home that same day, back against the door as he sat on the floor of his apartment. He felt horrible, like there was a gaping hole in his chest, and he imagined you felt about a hundred times worse. He couldn’t believe what he did, all because he projected this horrible false narrative onto you, stemming from his own self hatred.
He sighed shakily, pulling out his phone and calling his older sister, Natalie.
“Hey, what’s up Carmy?”
“Hey Sugar-- uhm-- so you remember--”
“Are you okay?” She questioned, clearly worried at the shakiness of his voice.
“I’m fine, I promise, please can you just-- just send me the info for the therapy thing. Please.” He sighed. “I’m uh... I’m startin’ to believe I might actually need it.”
A pause remained for a moment, and he almost thought she hung up.
“...Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“What happened?”
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#aster writes the bear#carmenmath#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#jeremy allen white imagine#jeremy allen white fic#the bear#carmen berzatto writing#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear fic#the bear writing#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto imagine
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carmen berzatto has a sweet tooth.
scratch that, carmen berzatto got a sweet tooth.
besides him tasting his own dishes in the restaurant, he'd never had time or energy to cook properly for himself, let alone have a dessert or a treat.
so back when you came to introduce yourself as the new business owner on the block, all bright smiles and sweet strawberry tarts, it was a nice change of pace. though he was skeptical at first, you're a damn good baker. he hates how cheesy it sounds, but he can taste the passion in what you make, the love.
he tastes the same love in his morning pancakes. a different kind of love, but love, nonetheless.
he tastes it in the pieces of homemade nougat you leave on the counter, or the warm brownies you enjoy together on the couch, with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.
he's got a newfound appreciation for the sweeter things in life. you, being one of them.
#carmenmath#carmen berzatto#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader fluff#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x nb!reader#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear fic#the bear writing#the bear fan fic#the bear imagine#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#the bear fx
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tysm for your request! hope you enjoy <33
♡ aster’s 1K celebration ♡
tags: established relationship, flirting, mentions of sex, richie cameo
The restaurant is calm, for once. Well, calmer than usual. The regular outside viewer would still think the kitchen is a chaotic, stress inducing environment, but not to you. This is home. And tonight, it is peaceful.
Normally, this would make Carmen even more nervous. Is there a lack of customers? Is business going badly? But no, he’s stirring sauce as he usually would, though this time, there is less of a furrow in his brow. Less tension in his jaw. He’s in his element.
A family has rented out the entire restaurant for a birthday, and paid very well for it, no less. You have to do a fraction of your work for double the payoff, so needless to say, no one is complaining. Not even Richie.
It pleases you to see Carmen like this. It resembles how he cooks at home, for you. Less frantic, but just as calculated. He’s enjoying it, and so are you.
You can tell by the little things. He glances over at you more, quirking a smile every now and then. When he passes by with a curt “behind”, his hand lingers a little longer onto your lower back, a little more tender. He doesn’t shout, he doesn’t have to this time, he speaks firmly. He’s even taking less smoke breaks.
You work together in the kitchen, it’s how you met, and that can be… Challenging. Dating your colleague is hard, dating your boss and head chef is even harder. You make it work though.
Your station is a little more secluded from the others. You focus on presentation and garnishing, as you’re the most precise person out of everyone. If not for that, you help out wherever you can. Your distance from the rest of the crew makes it a little easier for Carmen to sneak a kiss every now and then. Normally they’re few and far in between during work. Tonight, you’ve been getting plenty. You’re almost starting to think he’s getting distracted.
You’re garnishing a few plates at once, delicately dressing a sauce over the dishes as you suddenly feel a presence looming over you. A familiar one, at that. Maybe it’s his cologne suddenly overtaking your sense of smell, or the sheer warmth emanating from his body, but you know it’s him.
“You making sure I’m doing my job? Or are you just trying to make me nervous, chef?” He doesn’t have to see your face to know you’re smiling, he can hear the playfulness in your voice.
He leans in a little more, chest pressed against your back, his head peeking over your shoulder. “Just like to watch. You’ve got a special technique.” He kisses your cheek. “And pretty hands.”
You can’t help but giggle like a shy schoolgirl at that. It’s not that he doesn’t compliment you, he’s just rarely that outright with it.
“Something gotten into you?” You turn your head slightly, his moving along so he can look at you.
“S’just never this calm in here. It’s like we’re in our own kitchen.” His voice is low, not being able to me masked under orders being yelled and pans clattering this time.
“Well, that’s not true. There’s usually jazz being played, you have to get my cat away from the stove every 10 minutes, and…” You look behind you to make sure no one is listening. “I’m pretty sure having sex on these counters counts as a hygiene violation.”
His eyebrows raise and he scoffs out a laugh. “I wouldn’t even wanna fuck on these counters. Who knows what they’ve been through.” He pauses, looking at you with a quirked eyebrow. “Would you?”
You think it over for a second. You‘ve fucked in his office, but that’s different. More secluded. Though the walls are still pretty thin.
“Maybe. Not right now.” You chuckle, and he can’t help but join you. Though the thought does excite him.
“Oh so you two can be smooching in the corner but when I take an extra smoke break I’m slacking off?” Richie’s voice pulls you both out of it, heads snapping over to where he’s standing, all sassy, with his hands on his hips.
“Was just checking if she needed help, don‘t get your panties in a twist.” Carmen presses a final kiss to your cheek, before peeling himself away from you and getting back to his station.
“I don’t have my— fuck off, cousin.” Richie stomps away, probably to take that extra smoke break he was bitching about.
Your eyes meet Carmy’s across the kitchen, a playful smile resting on both of your lips.
“Later?” he mouths to you, silently this time.
“After closing.” You whisper.
“Deal.” He grins, and you both get back to work. Though it’s a little harder to concentrate now.
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#carmenmath#aster’s 1K celebration!#aster writes the bear#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto writing#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto x y/n#carmen berzatto the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy x reader#carmy x fem!reader#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen x reader
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sweet like you🍓pt. 2
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.
word count: 3.1K
PART 1
notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away.
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!
warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing
Carmen hated nights.
At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.
That night was no different.
Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.
He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.
[carmen]: absolutely, see you then
Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now.
“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee.
“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”
“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”
“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.
Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.
He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.
He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--
“Carmen? Is that you?”
Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron.
“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile.
“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”
“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”
“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”
“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.
But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him.
He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.
Ah.
Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.
And he owned that garbage dump.
He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.
The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.
You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.
“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”
“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”
The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped.
You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”
Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.
You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu.
“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”
“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.
“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”
You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face.
“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”
“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”
Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”
“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”
“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”
The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.
“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.
You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”
“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”
You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”
“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.
“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”
A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord.
He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”
“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.
“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”
You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.
The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.
“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”
“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”
“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”
He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.
He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”
Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents.
You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.
Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”
You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.
“Yeah… Anytime.”
A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”
Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.
That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.
You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”
“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”
Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”
He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.
Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.
“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”
Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.
Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.
The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses.
“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”
The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.
“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.
“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.
“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.
You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.
So you couldn’t help yourself.
You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.
He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;
“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”
tag list <3
@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill
#aster writes the bear#carmenmath#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear#the bear fic#the bear imagine#jeremy allen white#jeremy allen white imagine
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nemesis; landing page.
carmen berzatto has spent most of his career resenting you. everyone liked you, you were smart, creative, social, and worst of all, you were doing better than him in culinary school. he hated you.
when his life starts taking some pretty severe turns, you show up again. he doesn't know how to handle being met with his arch nemesis again, especially during such tumultuous times.
little does he know you're a blessing in disguise.
♡ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ♡
tags; cursing, angst, carmen being pretty horrible to reader at first, slow burn (?), carmen doesn't know what his feelings mean at all, mentions of mental illness and everything related to mikey.
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Would it be okay to request a Carmy x reader where reader isn't a smoker but consumes lollipop instead? While on a break Carmy storms out stressed, unable to find cigarettes, reader notices his anxiety and causally takes lollipop out of their mouth and put into Carmys. "I know this can't replace nicotine but maybe this time you need something sweet". Carmy is suprised and reader just goes inside to work only to figure out later what they did and frantically running out back to apologize to Carmy. 👉👈
absolutely my dear!! I switched it up a teeny tiny bit, hope that's okay! thank you so much for the lovely idea! ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ
word count: 0.8K
warnings: swearing, slight suggestive talk, not proofread lol
let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!
It had been over a year since you'd quit smoking, a habit you'd originally picked up because of the stress from your job and education combined. And you'd gladly taken the breaks that came along with it.
It had started as a New Year's resolution, quitting smoking, but you took it very seriously. But going cold turkey was hard, really hard, so you'd turned to something else to fill the void.
Lollipops.
Relatively harmless, delicious and allowed inside too.
And your boss, Carmen, had been so kind to let you take your "lollipop breaks" outside too, when the others were smoking. It gained you a few confused looks from your colleagues at first, but they got used to it pretty soon.
A week ago, you and Carmen were closing up, and you'd jokingly offered him a lollipop from your stash instead of a cigarette.
"Hahah, very funny. Those are gotta be laced with somethin' with how much you love them." He reached for his pack of cigarettes.
"Just the recipe for cavities." You started looking through your bag. "Come on, what's your favorite flavor, I got a ton of 'em."
He sighed, putting the small cardboard box back in his pocket. "Give me the apple one."
"Good choice," you handed him the plastic wrapped candy, and he quickly tugged off the wrapper and put it in his mouth.
"Mm," he hummed, hands clasped as his arms rested over his knees. Sitting on the curb was always more comfortable after doing a closing shift. "Haven't had one of these in ages."
He watched you from the corner of his eye. Plump lips wrapped around hard candy, the hard part of it creating a slightly bulge in your cheek, and when you'd take it out, your lips would always make that satisfying pop. Shit, he'd almost started getting some unholy thoughts about it.
The two of you sat in silence for a bit, still coming down from a long day of work.
"You know, smoking is really bad for you." You looked up at the night sky, trying to figure out if you were seeing a shooting star or a plane.
"No shit," he huffed, "so is sugar, dumbass."
You chuckled. "Touché chef, touché."
Tonight had been a night just like the one the week before.
You were already sat out on the curb, lollipop in your mouth, humming a tune to yourself, when Carmen went outside to join you. The weather was nice, and it was welcome after you'd just had the most hellish shift in a long time.
He reached for his cigarettes in his back pocket, brows furrowing when the packet felt surprisingly light. He opened it, groaning upon discovering it was empty. "Christ... I gotta let Richie stop bumming cigarettes from me." He was clearly irritated, foot tapping on the concrete as he looked off to the distance.
"Lollipop?" You asked, already reaching into your bag.
"Please," he sighed out, legs straightening out to stretch them a bit.
You started rummaging around, and just like him before, was met with the clear absence of your favorite snack. Either there was a candy thief around, or you seriously needed to start cutting back on how many of those you had per day.
"Fuck, I'm out, uhm..." You noticed how agitated he seemed, and you weren't about to have him go home in a shit mood after he'd worked so hard. So you figured you might as well try and ask.
"Do you want mine?"
He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising at what you'd just said. He trusted you, he wasn't a believer of cooties, but taking a lollipop straight from someone else's mouth was a bit more extreme than having a sip from the same cup. But it was you, he knew you, he liked you, so... Fuck it, why not?
"Yeah... Sure." He watched your lips closely as the hard candy dragged across them, spit painting them so beautifully. He almost didn't notice your hand reaching it out to him, and he took it carefully. He looked straight into your eyes when popping it in his mouth, and you felt like there was something strangely erotic about it all.
"Well," you put your hands on your knees and got up, "I gotta go, I have somewhere to be early tomorrow, so..." You smiled, a little awkwardly. "You owe me a lollipop though."
He smiled, and you did too. "For sure. Now go home, I can tell you're tired chef."
"Heard." You grinned, waving a quick goodbye before walking off to the nearest metro station.
Man, he'd really start enjoying lollipops more if they were all covered in the taste of you.
tag list <3
@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill @777iii @magicboytrash
#aster replies#aster writes the bear#carmenmath#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x gn!reader#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear fic#carmen berzatto imagine#jeremy allen white fic#jeremy allen white imagine#anon ask
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hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on carmen berzatto in which the reader is an italian girl her early/mid 20s who works as a waiter at the bear and is sydney's best friend. her and carmen meet through her and they start secretly dating. the rest is up to you
thank you <3
hi!! I simplified your request a little,, it's more like a blurb / headcanon thing than a oneshot because I'm working on a long chapter for my nemesis series rn lol, hope that's okay!! thank you for the request angel! ♡
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
tags: sydney being a matchmaker somehow, not so secret relationship, exactly what it says in the ask lol, normal size font below!
wc: 0.9K
let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!
+ when it comes to hiring waiters, carmen just wants someone who's experienced. someone who knows what they're doing and who can do it well. and quickly. this restaurant has to work, has to make everyone proud, and the staff has to reflect that.
+ sydney instantly thought of you as a reference. you'd worked at your family restaurant back in italy, and when you moved to chicago, had continued said occupation to support yourself in various restaurants. though none were as nice as "the bear".
+ so when your friend had called you up for an interview for a brand new restaurant with one of the most promising chefs of the country, of course you took the offer.
+ though carmen knew most waiters were usually... presentable, he didn't quite imagine you to be this fucking pretty when you showed up for the interview. he almost forgot every question he was meaning to ask when you walked through that door, all bubbly excitement and feminine flair.
+ he loved hearing you talk about your life in italy before moving to the states, your experiences working in the service industry, your passion for food and people... he almost forgot he was supposed to be conducting an interview at all, he just adored hearing you talk so much.
+ and sydney noticed too. she noticed the way he had such an easy time conversing with you, which is odd behavior for him, to say the least. she was just glad the two of you were getting along, and her friend had a chance of getting hired.
+ and of course you were hired. not only was carmy already hooked on you, but so was most of the other staff. your bright personality and quick witted comments were nice and refreshing when things got a little too stressful. plus, you worked fast and efficiently; what more could they ask for?
+ carmen’s interest in you remained. he knew it was a little wrong, since technically, yes, he is your boss. which is why he was a bit reluctant to do anything at first.
+ you were making all the first moves. giving him meaningful glances during quiet moments, helping him out with things that didn’t apply to your job position, staying later to help him close up and clean. even if it meant you’d be tired as all hell by the time you were home, at least you were spending time with him. to you, it was more than worth it.
+ and he seemed to think the same. carmen never thought the closing shift could be as fun as it was when you were there. these days he was almost fighting richie for it, claiming that it was more fitting for him anyways since it was his place after all.
+ late night shifts turned into walking you home. walking you home turned into hanging out at your apartment for a glass of wine. a glass of wine turned into kissing on the couch. kissing on the couch turned into staying the night… you’d fallen into a routine with him so easily, sometimes you forgot there was a time before carmen was in your life. it just felt so… natural. like it was always supposed to be like this.
+ and though you really liked carmen, you didn’t want to jeopardize your position at the restaurant. you’d finally found a stable, well paying job, it would be a shame if you lost it over a relationship with your superior. though sometimes, you wondered if it would be worth it. to risk it for carmen.
+ carmen agreed, and so the two of you continued to keep your relationship under wraps for the time being. it was for the better, and besides, it’s not like he talked much about his personal life to his colleagues either. well, except for sydney.
+ and boy did she have her suspicions. of course she’d find out eventually, she’s a very smart and observant person. she can figure out carmen so easily, so she’s definitely not oblivious to the sneaking glances and hidden smiles, or the way he always manages to stay behind with you at the restaurant. not even the hickey you tried so desperately to cover up with makeup slips past her radar.
+ but she doesn’t say anything, at least not for a while. she lets the two of you live out your little secret relationship, believing she doesn’t know, until she accidentally slips up about it.
+ you’re complaining about the noise in your apartment and your lack of sleep because of it, clearly frustrated, when sydney asks “why don’t you just sleep over at carmen’s again then?”
+ she doesn’t realise she’d revealed that she’s known all along, until you look at her like you just saw a ghost. you’re about to defend yourself and come up with some excuse, when behind your friend, you can see carmen standing at the bar, smiling to himself as he cleans the counter.
+ it brings you comfort to know that apparently, he doesn’t mind anyone knowing. the secrecy was more for you than for him if anything. you’re not his little secret, not at all, and that became very clear when he’d start talking sydney's ear off about you after. though she does find it annoying, she’s glad two very important people in her life have found each other and are making it work.
+ plus, it’s nice that you two always cover the closing shift.
+ though she has her doubts about what you two are actually up to alone in the restaurant past closing time.
tag list <3
@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill @777iii @magicboytrash @wiipes @sierrahhh @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa @astridyoo15 @rexorangecouny @azxulaa @jointherebellion215 @wolfiealina @dogdevourer
#carmenmath#aster writes the bear#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#carmen berzatto writing#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x y/n#the bear fic#the bear imagine#diorrfairy#jeremy allen white imagine#carmen berzatto#the bear writing
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happy birthday
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: carmen reminds you it’s your birthday. the two of you celebrate in your own way.
word count: 0.8K
notes: got inspired by @superhoeva and her super cute carmen blurbs, def check her stuff out!! lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! requests are open!
By now, you’re used to closing up with Carmen. You were used to his routine of cleaning up and organizing, the order in which he’d do things, the cigarette you shared after you were done.
And Carmen had gotten used to you too. The songs you’d hum as you mopped the floor, the way you’d sneakily organize the documents on his desk, the way you always put the spices back in the wrong order, but it was fine, because it was you.
So needless to say you were a bit surprised when your usual routine was disturbed. You were in the middle of dusting off the cooker hood when he suddenly disappeared. “Carmy?” You’d called out, putting the cloth away for a moment to go look for him. What a great setup for a horror movie this would have been...
You walked into his office and looked around, until your eyes fell on a single slice of pie on his desk, adorned with a lit birthday candle. You raised an eyebrow, approaching and noticing the card besides it.
You noticed a shadow behind you, and there he was, leaning against the doorway. Though that still didn’t explain things for you, a confused expression remaining on your face. “What’s this for?” You question, gesturing to the dessert.
A small smile graced his typically tired features. “S’your birthday today.”
Oh.
Fuck, right.
“Oh... Shit.” You said, chuckling to yourself. You recalled you told him in passing over a month ago, complaining that you didn’t have time to celebrate and that the years were practically passing you by.
You sat down at his desk, inspecting the clearly store bought card. It read “it’s a girl!”, with “girl” crossed out in red sharpie and your age written beneath it.
“It was the only one they had left,” Carmen said, returning to sit at his desk with you with the rest of the pie. “I hope the pie makes up for it.”
You chuckled. “Absolutely,” you glanced at the candle”, “now do I make a wish or somethin’?”
“You can.” He started cutting himself a slice.
“Hm... Alright.” You leaned in, closing your eyes and blowing out the candle. “Now I gotta taste this. Made it yourself?”
He rolled his eyes, laughing sarcastically. “I’m offended you’d think I’d curse your birthday with store bought pie. Dig in.”
You obliged, taking a bite and leaning back in your seat, nodding. “Mhm, mhm... As expected, delicious.” You went in for another bite. “Never took you for a pastry chef.”
“Me neither,” He took a bite himself, “improvised a bit for the special occasion.”
Your heart fluttered slightly at the thought of him going out of his comfort zone a bit just to make you something nice. All for an occasion you didn’t even remember. As much as he sucked at showing it, he did really care about his crew. And... Maybe just a little more about you specifically. But he’d never admit that to the rest.
The two of you enjoy a slice of pie in relative silence, before returning to the parking lot, sitting on the curb, where he lit a cigarette.
“You know,” you started, “I haven’t done anything for my birthday in years.” You looked at him, the glow emitting from his lighter doing wonders for framing his face. Even after a painfully long shift, he was still so pretty. You’d even go as far the tiredness of his features added to his look.
“Well,” He handed you the cigarette, “hope this was a nice change of pace.” Your fingers linger over each other a little longer than usual when you take it from him.
“Yeah,” you smile, “it was.” You brought it to your lips, looking up at the night sky, and Carmen did the same. “Although I could think of something else that could have made it even better.”
Carmen smiled slightly, thinking your answer would have been something along the lines of “whipped cream” or “champagne”.
What he didn’t expect was to feel your hand on his cheek, bringing his attention towards you, and to feel your soft lips on his.
You flicked the cigarette to the side and tilted your head slightly, leaning in further to deepen the kiss. He returned it after getting over his initial surprise, hands not moving as he was still processing what was happening. Just like it had been ages since you’d celebrated your birthday, it had been ages since he’d been kissed. If he could even remember the last time...
You pulled away after a few moments, eyes remaining closed in fear of opening them and it all being a dream. They fluttered open at the feeling of his hand coming up to touch your jaw.
“Shit... That...” He started, eyes half lidded and cheeks tinged pink with a soft blush.
“Don’t you dare say ‘that was fire chef’...” You laughed and he followed along, foreheads leaning against each other as you both savored the moment.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t.” He smiled, leaning in once again.
Damn.
You didn’t expect your birthday wish to come true so quickly.
tag list <3
@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill
#aster writes the bear#carmenmath#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen x reader#the bear#the bear fic#the bear writing#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#carmen berzatto blurb#jeremy allen white
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masterlist.📷 ⋆｡˚
a hopefully clear collection of all my works.
☾ = smut
+ = angst
STRANGER THINGS
♡ steve harrington
second chance
the duet: landing page
the harrington way ☾
unexpected guest
first kiss
songbird
beauty school gf blurb
sleeping beauty blurb
being held
missing you blurb
touché: friends to lovers
feeling of guilt
my muse.
period problems
♡ robin buckley
memory lane
head over heels
♡ eddie munson
tattooed gf blurb
THE BEAR
♡ carmen berzatto
nemesis: landing page +
sweet like you: part one / part two
happy birthday
lollipop
secret dating
SCREAM
♡ ethan landry
close call
title taken ☾
pierced ☾
mark of mine
skater girl
♡ chad meeks-martin
fucking finally ☾
KICKASS
♡ dave lizewski
"so? whatever" (popular!reader): landing page
“so? whatever” (popular!reader): headcanons
personal headcanons ☾
distracted ☾
take a break
SPIDERMAN
♡ tasm!peter parker
kitchen counter makeout
sunburnt
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♡ mélodie -- send in a song, and I'll make a moodboard based on the lyrics / the vibe I get from it. (you can also send in a song + a character!)
could i get a moodboard for ultraviolence by god herself lana del rey + carmy 😵💫😵💫
please and thank u 💋
omg,, this is such a good combo tbh?? we all know carmy can be a bit toxic,,
hope you like it, ty for sending something in!
⋆700 followers celebration: moodboard reqs!⋆
#aster replies#anon#700 followers celebration#I’m so happy to be honouring mother w these moodboards#y’all know to treat me w the lana songs mhm#carmenmath
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