if i dont do anything, this place will burn down

and all my anxiety will go away with it

[maeberzatto]

mae | 20 yrs | virgo | i write the bear fanfics

mae’s anon emojis <3 — 🩰🪐🥣🌇🦋🩵🧷🐻🥨🪷

hi there! thank you for checking out my little corner of the internet <3 before you continue, please note that tumblr has randomly been flagging blog posts for 'inappropriate material' even if no such material exists in the post. i have appealed numerous of these with little to no change, and am continuing to address the issue. if a fic you loved disappears without warning, that may be why. thank you!

THIS BLOG IS CURRENTLY UNDER CHANGES! FOR MY FICS, PLEASE CLICK HERE: MAE WRITES THE BEAR

thank you! <3

[maeberzatto]

don’t even know his last name — carmen berzatto au

description: you fall in love with a cowboy. too bad he falls into the stereotype of cowboys never sticking around for long.

word count: 3.4k (3,455 to be exact) rating: angst + fluff content warnings / general warnings: semi slow burn, intentionally vague ending. both carmen and user are over 21, drinking is involved. smut is implied but is not touched on.

author's notes: i do have a cowboy carmy fanfic already, this is set in the same universe (?) but isn’t the same fanfiction. also this is so cowboys cry too coded yall mixed with last name by carrie underwood (is it clear i like country music)

This wasn't your kind of scene.

Low neon lights splayed over the rustic styled bar, appropriately named The Dive. Located in the heart of town, real cowboys interacted with fake cowboys who associated the kind of lifestyle you all lived with that of the kind shown in Bonanza reruns late at night on television.

Some country song played over the jukebox propped up in the corner. One from the late eighties or nineties, but you didn't pay it much attention. The girl you'd come here with, another handler on the ranch you both worked on, was dancing with some guy on the wood floor was the person you had your attention on.

Mainly though, you have to watch her because you knew she was reckless with guys she met in bars. And you were technically her ride home, so leaving her behind - as tempting as it sounds - wouldn’t be ideal.

That suddenly changed when you felt the empty stool beside you scoot outward, before someone sat down on it. You didn't glance over - it wasn't anyone of importance to you. The man - you could tell from his deeper voice - ordered himself a beer. "Whatever you've got." Was his answer to the bartender asking what kind.

You didn't pay him much mind. You glanced over briefly at him, giving him a small nod before returning your gaze back to the glass in front of you. That was until your gaze returned to him.

He wasn’t dressed particularly out of character. He had on a simple tee shirt, jeans that had dirt on them, and a trucker hat with some local shop logo on the front. Disheveled curls piled underneath.

The first thing you notice was the tattoos up his arm. A few varying ones, holding the same theme — it was the theme though that was unclear.

The second thing was the logo on his jacket. The Meads Ranch, in bold letters underneath some photo of the mountains in the area.

That place was known by many of the locals. If not for it's legacy as one of the most profound ranches, then perhaps for the shit you'd heard Gavin Mitchell, the oldest son, got into. But that could just be rumors.

Either way, that place was legendary. Treated like some folklore.

The man notices you staring, almost if reading your expression, he speaks, his eyes on the drink in front of him. "You know the place?" He asks.

You suddenly snap out of your thought process - which was just repeating everything you'd ever heard of the ranch from headlines or whispers from colleagues - and look at the man.

“I have. Quite the reputation." You answer. "You work there, or just steal their jackets?"

The man chuckles. "I feel like either answer would be bad." He answers as he looks over at you.

The moment his eyes meet yours, it's different. It feels different. Different from the other times you’ve made eye contact with someone else in a bar.

But you disregard it as soon as the feeling washes over you.

“It probably would be.” You respond with a nod. “It’d be a very weird answer to give. Especially to a stranger.”

“Well, that's true. I’m Carmen.” He introduces, forearms resting against the oak bar counter in front of him. “Now we aren’t strangers so whatever I tell you won’t be so weird for you to know.”

You laugh. You actually laugh at what this guy - who, for all you know could be some serial killer in a trucker hat and leather jacket - says. You respond with your own name as you look him up and down, your eyes meeting his once more.

“So, Carmen.” You say as if testing the name out. He almost grins when he hears his name fall from your lips. “What brings a guy who works for the Meads Ranch to a shithole like this?”

“Mm, boredom mostly. Well- that and they’re doing some renovations at the ranch where we stay.” He answers. “So they effectively told us all to get the off the property for the day so they could work. Stumbled here somehow.”

“What about you?” He asks after a pause as he looks at you.

You nod your head back toward the dance floor where your friend is still dancing with a guy. “That girl is essentially my problem for tonight. Her boyfriend broke up with her and she asked if we could go out drinking to help her get over it.” You answer.

“Seems like she moves on quick.” He comments as he watches her, chuckling softly before he looks ahead again, taking a drink of his beer.

You nod. “She sure does.” You reply, as you look ahead again as well.

A beat of comfortable silence falls over you both before you speak again.

“So, how long have you worked for the Meads Ranch?” You ask curiously.

“Almost ten months now. Gavin and I know each other from a few friends of friends.” He answers. “He asked for my help when one of their guys quit and I needed a job for the meantime.”

“You say that like cowboying isn’t what you wanna do for a living.” You note.

He shrugs. “Maybe it ain’t.” He responds.

“Then what is?” You ask.

“Isn’t that a bit personal for me to tell a stranger?” He asks with a raised brow.

You chuckle. “We aren’t strangers, remember?” You point out.

He nods. "How could I forget?" He asks as he pulls out a small piece of paper from his pocket, ripping off a small portion of it that was blank from whatever wording was written on the front.

He grabs a pen from the nearby mesh cup on the bar. He scribbles something down on it before he hands it to you, then sets something on the bar. “Hopefully you and I can keep in touch then, not-so-stranger.” He says.

As you glance down at the piece of paper and realize this man - who you barely know - has given you his phone number, he’s already paid and left, leaving behind a beer bottle on the bar and a piece of paper in your hands.

And now even more questions about him in your mind.

Truth be told, you had no intention of actually calling the cowboy from the bar.

But, alcohol had gotten you into meeting him in the first place and it was how you ended up on the front porch of the handler house on the ranch, your phone pressed to your ear with a beer bottle in front of you.

It was meant to be a casual night. Poker, a few drinks with the other ranch foremen and handlers. But, you had found the small piece of paper with a number scrawled on it in your jacket pocket at some point.

So, here you were. Slightly buzzed, making a stupid decision. Hoping that he both wouldn’t answer and would, all at once.

You took a deep breath when the ringing stopped and a gruff yet familiar voice came over the speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady. “This is going to sound weird and I am sorry for that. I was- you know, what I was doing doesn’t matter actually. I found your number again in one of my jackets and.. fate or something else told me to call you. Probably the beers. Definitely the beers.” You blabber.

Carmen chuckles. “Yeah. I’d say it’s definitely the beer with how you’re ramblin'.” He notes. You can hear him pause, taking a hit of a cigarette if you could guess. “But that’s alright. I was thinking of you.”

It’s such a casual comment, that he was thinking of you. It’s one you don’t make note of. “Uh-huh.” You sigh. “Is this.. odd? Like- me actually calling you?” You question.

You swear you hear him chuckle. “I don’t think so. I mean, I gave you my number.” He points out as you nod, even if he can’t see you.

“Good point.” You slur into the line. There’s a pause before you speak. “So. What’s goin’ on over there now?”

“Uh, not much. Gavin’s losing his shit.” He answers. “Something about an order of gear being lost and accusing everyone under the sun of messing with it. So, basically the usual.”

You nod. “Sounds like the Gavin I’ve heard so much about.” You comment. You pause before speaking again. “So.. you finally gonna tell me what that comment last night was about? The one about that not being your dream career?”

He pauses before he speaks. “That sounds more like first date material than a phone conversation that only happened cause you’re drunk, doesn’t it, sugar?” He asks.

"I don't know. Is this turning into a first date?" You ask in response.

You hear a soft chuckle come from the other side, and the sound alone has your stomach in knots. "Why don't you wait outside of your place's gates tomorrow night and find out?"

That sounds like one hell of a challenge. And after all, you were never one to turn down a challenge.

Maybe that's how you ended up in the man's kitchen at the Meads Ranch. It was mostly quiet - apparently the Mitchell family was quite wealthy despite being in the ranch business, seeing as Carmen had his own home on the ranch. Just across from the barn and the Mitchell house.

Carmen was currently guiding you through making homemade pasta. You weren't quite sure how this sudden course in culinary had gotten started. Maybe it was because you mentioned you were drinking on an empty stomach, maybe it was that he was too.

Either way. You let him move you around like a chess piece on a board: dictating when you stir the pasta, when you add the heavy cream into the sauce.

"Do you always cook like this here?" You question. Surely he had to have, he seemed to enjoy it too much not to. You let yourself watch as a small smile found its way to his face.

"Uh, sometimes. Folks in the bunkhouse seem to enjoy it," he scoots behind you with a murmured 'behind' as he stirs the sauce in the pan on the front burner of the old stove. "And the Mitchells sometimes let me cook if they got a big event."

You look at him. "Really?" You ask, surprised. You glance back down at the pasta as you stir it, every two minutes per his instructions. You immediately feel bad for the way you sound shocked at that, clearly he knew what he was doing. "You don't seem like the chef type."

He lets out a chuckle at that. "What kind of type do I seem like?" He questions as he wipes his hand with a dish rag nearby. You shrug. "I dunno, just.. the moody cowboy type. Like the kind of guy I would expect to work on a ranch like this." You answer.

He looks at your side profile for a while. A minute, maybe two. Comfortable silence fills the space before he's inhaling sharply and leaning off the countertop. "Alright, uh. Time to drain that." He says, taking the pot off the stove. He drains it over the sink with a strainer placed inside already.

You watch, taking the time to stir the sauce that had gone untouched for a few minutes now. "I'm sorry," you find yourself saying. You look at him before you look back at the saucepan. "If that came out mean."

He shakes his head. "Wasn't mean." He says. "You're not wrong. I mean, truth be told I didn't see myself as much of the chef type but- runs in the family, I guess."

You look at him. "How do you mean?" You question.

"My older brother, he was a chef. I fucking admired him for it, he taught me a lot. Probably other people in my family, honestly." He begins. "Mikey, my brother, he uh.. he owned this restaraunt in town. Stupid little sandwich shop but people loved it. You would've thought he was cooking like, top course meals and not overpriced sandwiches."

He continues talking as he puts the pasta back into its pot, walking over to the stove. "Anyway, when we were younger he and I would always be cookin' together. Didn't matter what it was we were making or why we were making it; I was just glad he let me help him, y'know?" He stirs the sauce in, and you take a step back to let him work his magic. "He was the coolest guy in the kitchen. Could make a killer meal and tell a story at the same time."

You tilt your head to the side just slightly as you observe him. The way he stirs the sauce in - not too rough or too fast, rather taking his time with it - or the way he has a small smirk on his face. "Matter of fact, uh, once he and I tried to do that baked alaska shit for our sister's birthday. Our mom came home and she was.. she was pissed. I mean, we had a mess everywhere." He recalls, fondness in his voice. You could listen to him speak for hours. "Safe to say he and I stuck to the cooking and let someone else handle the baking."

You give a soft hum. "Are you and him still as close?" You question.

He exhales sharply. "Uh, we were kind of. He kind of died last year." He answers.

You immediately feel awful (how could you not, bringing up his dead brother like that?) and you stand upright. "Shit, uh. I'm.. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head as he begins plating the pasta, adding a basil garnish. "Don't," he insists as he works. "You couldn't have known. It ain't like I open conversations like that: 'hey, nice to meet you. My brother died'." He says.

You accept your plate when he holds it out to you. "Thank you," you say quietly. "For the cooking lessons and for talking to me about him."

He nods. "Thanks for listening." He replies.

—

After you two finish eating, you volunteer to do the dishes. Stood over the sink, you washed the plates off delicately with a sponge you were sure hadn't been replaced in the one to two week recommended period, the smell of the lemon dish soap filling the space.

Carmen, though he'd agreed at first to let you wash the dishes as your contribution to the evening, was stood beside you. He was mainly in charge of drying the dishes with a small kitchen towel, setting them on the drying rack.

The space was silent. Then he speaks. "You know, I told you a lot about myself." He says. "I think it's only fair you tell me somethin' about you. Make me feel like I'm not the only one spilling my guts."

You let out a laugh. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Why are you in the ranch business?" He begins.

You shrug. "Needed a job and a place to stay. It's not exactly my scene. But, it's somethin' so I can't complain." You answer. "Plus it makes me feel full of purpose, y'know? Hard to explain I guess but.. something about working with the horses or wrangling cattle just feels nice."

He looks at you for a long second, before he comes up with his next question. "Hm, do you date at all?" You laugh at that one. "Not really. Dating scene around here isn't exactly glitz and glamour. And every time I think I have the time something on the ranch pulls my attention."

"Like having to take girls to bars to get over bad boyfriends?"

You laugh. "Pretty much, yes." You answer. You finish washing the last plate as you hand it off to him. He wipes it dry, then places it on the drying rack with the others.

"Okay, my turn." You say.

"Haven't I told you enough about myself tonight?" He questions as the two of you make your way into the living room. You settle onto the torn up sofa with a few questionable spills on them. You pay it no mind - you'd sat on worse.

"Not nearly," you answer as he takes a seat on the sofa with you. "Why do you work for the Mitchell family? Surely you've heard the rumors about them, why get involved?"

He hums. "If I didn't associate with anyone who had rumors spread about them, I'd live a very lonely life." He answers. "The Mitchell family may be.. out there, sure, but they ain't bad. They take good care of their staff, the ranch. For every piece of gossip I like to believe there's something decent to balance it out."

You nod along as he talks. The way he speaks about things as simple as that has you captivated. "Okay. What about you when it comes to the dating world?" You ask. "Surely a cowboy who can cook is being sought after."

He chuckles. "Not really," he replies. "I had one girlfriend. Broke up with her about three years ago. She and I were just on different paths in life, y'know? Didn't see a point in us bein' together if it was gonna end someday."

You laugh. "Jeez, are cowboys always this philisophlical?"

He shakes his head. "No," he answers as he sits up some. "My turn. Why'd you call me last night?"

You sigh. There was the million dollar question. Why had you called him? "I had a few too many drinks and.. I dunno. I guess drunk me was interested to hear about that 'what I wanna do for a living' stuff you were saying at the bar."

"Well, glad you got to see it in action tonight then." He says. "That, cooking? That's my want, if you will. I love it, can't get enough of it. Anytime they need someone to cook for an event or bunkhouse poker nights, I do it."

You laugh. "God, you really are like somethin' out of a Hallmark movie." You say. It wasn't mean, quite the opposite. Appreciation. "And you're wasting that talent in a place like this?"

He chuckles. "It ain't a waste if it's securing me a second date." He says simply. Awful confident, you think.

"You sound sure of that, cowboy."

"You gonna tell me no?"

"Nope."

—

Two dates turned into three, and pretty soon the Meads Ranch became like a second home to you.

It had been three months, which gave you time to establish somewhat of a routine. You'd stay the night in Carmen's place - which usually entailed him cooking for you and you repaying him in the bedroom - eave before morning calls at 5:30 am. You snuck out the back gate entrance and took the longer way to your own ranch.

Was it stupid? Probably. But it also made sense to you in a way. He filled this tiny void in your life you'd felt like would remain empty forever. Replaced it with his recipes and his never-ending stories about his somewhat insane sounding family.

Today was supposed to be the same, only difference was Carmen had been radio silent all day. No texts throughout the day or on his lunch break from whatever task they had him assigned to.

You'd driven to the Meads Ranch at around 5 pm to check in with him and partake in your usual routine. Something about the air just felt.. different. You couldn't tell what it was, even as your shoes crunched the gravel beneath them when you approached his house on the property.

The lights were turned off. Inside, nothing remained. No furniture, nothing. It was quiet. You pulled your phone out to call him, to see if he had taken to the bunkhouse instead.

It rings, then the automated voice comes through. "We are sorry, but this number is no longer in service." It fades out as soon as those words hit. Had this man seriously gotten you to sleep with him, spend time getting to know him, only to leave?

Tears sting your eyes as you make your way back to the car. Every conversation repeats as you walk. You'd told him mostly everything about yourself - where you grew up, your first pet's name, hell you told him about your parents.

He told you things too. Well, except his last name. You hadn't even thought to ask that. So instead, your brain curses the one thing you had, his first name.

Screw you, Carmen.

thank you for reading !! please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed it, any support is greatly appreciated. this fic was so fun to write. i love you all! <3

[maeberzatto]

i write fanfics about fictional men and i sincerely doubt anyone is relying on me for political stances but let it be clear this page is strictly anti-ice and anti-trump. i need to make that clear because there is no staying silent - regardless of what your page shares, it is uniquely important for this to be everywhere right now.

and if you support ice, i sincerely hope you read the statements from the families of every victim of ice’s actions. i hope you see the way they treat and speak to people. one person reported ice told them while in detainment “look what happened to that lesbian bitch”, referring to renee good. a pastor reported he had a gun pointed in his face and was told, “you’re white, it wouldn’t be fun anyway.”

there is no other option. there is no reasoning with tyrants. that’s it.

[ladyshinga]

[mndvx]

[maeberzatto]

gonna need him to drop that towel like my panties just dropped HELLO

[bear-downs]

The Bear season 5 teaser poster featuring Sydney and Carmy (x)

[maeberzatto]

“but guys they’re not in love they’re just work wife and work husband” BULLSHIT. LOOK AT HOW HE LOOKS AT HER.

i’m not even exaggerating when i say if these two don’t end up together in season 5 i’m done with this show because what do you MEAN

[yourthoughtlessheart]

putting my sydcarmy agenda aside, i really don’t understand the claire/carmy lore. every single time i watch their scenes and they’re talking about their mad, all-consuming, insane love—i just DON’T get it.

am i supposed to believe something that i didn’t it see happening? am i supposed to root for this couple?

everyone around them says how they’re made for each other. how they are meant to be. but claire doesn’t even understand the basics of carmy’s personality traits.

when they rekindle their love affair, she takes this man to a fucking PARTY. THEE carmen berzatto goes to a party where he pretends to be someone else. his disassociation is crazy.

he bails HIS restaurant renovations to spend time with her, leaving everything to his supposed partner to take care of and she [claire] doesn’t even say a thing. when you care for someone, you also want them to care about their personal interests. she doesn’t do that.

and i absolutely despise what the writes on the show made with this whole ‘being stuck in the walk-in and being the self-loathed fucked up guy that i am’ situation. i hate that richie was yelling at him while he was stuck in there (but that’s not what i’ll be talking about here).

i can’t stand the idea that claire walked into the kitchen, OVERHEARD his complaints about >HIMSELF< and took it as some self-absorbed joke about HER. she’s not that important. not at all.

i couldn’t care less about her. and couldn’t even pretend to believe this supposed love story. i really don’t care.

[maeberzatto]

no geniuenly all of this. and the biggest problem i have is despite receiving so much feedback that people do NOT want to see claire anymore and would rather have a couple they’ve been rooting for since the beginning, sydney and carmen, they ignore it.

not only that, they’ve pushed the main characters aside for this. we could’ve seen so much more happening but because of the limited time they opted for claire - someone carmen gave a FAKE FUCKING PHONE NUMBER TO - and her weird “this rant about how he feels like a psychopath and it’s actually his mental health issues MUST be about me!” attitude.

like here’s my thing: i don’t care if they don’t give us sydcarmy for plot purposes or for a future storyline - maybe they will with the upcoming season? but not giving us them because you want to push claire down our throat’s for yet another season just shows you don’t give a fuck about your audience’s opinions.

xo, chris storer’s number one enemy for life

[maeberzatto]

and the crowd is? spitting on it?

GUYS IM NOT EVEN JOKING WHEN I SAY I AM ON MY KNEES FOR HIM IN THIS LEATHER JACKET

[maeberzatto]

“are you coming?” YEAH ALL OVER MY SCREEN WHAT DO YOU MEANNNN HE LOOKS SO GOOD

goodness bless the 20th century studios social media page for this photo that i will be looking at for the rest of my lifetime

[maeberzatto]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WH OIS LETTING HIM LOOK THIS FINE AND NOT LETTING ME HIT

literally until the dentist knows it’s him

[maeberzatto]

he’s so fine i’m not even joking

“get a load of this guy” IM TRYING

[maeberzatto]

can we talk about how elf cosmetics is so fucking disgusting for using matt rife in their newest ads?

matt rife, the same one who made a joke that “God left the tag” on a woman’s clitoris, is now working with a company that was apart of the largest beauty backed reproductive justice initiative (the every body campaign in 2024).

matt rife, who made a joke about a woman who he implied likely covered up bruises from DV with makeup and said that she should’ve been in the kitchen so no one had to see her face, is now working with a makeup campaign who boasts their employee base is 74% women.

matt rife who has absolutely zero to do with the beauty industry. instead of using people who are actively in the cosmetics industry and who are more involved with the beauty world are not being utilized, instead you want to select a man who thinks making jokes about a woman being beaten is so funny?

matt rife who commented on a post of bunny hedaya’s son saying he was mean to women and making a response to a comment rife had made and said, “santa claus isn’t real, your mom buys you presents with the money she makes on onlyfans”.

yeah, go fuck yourselves.

[maeberzatto]

IF YOU ARE INTENTIONALLY WRITING CHARACTERS TO BE “JUST FRIENDS”, STOP GIVING THEM INTIMATE MOMENTS AND STOP ROMANTICIZING THEIR DYNAMIC AS A WHOLE AND THEN REFUSING TO ACTUALLY MAKE THEM A COUPLE TO KEEP PEOPLE WATCHING YOUR SHOW. I WOULD PROBABLY WATCH IT MORE IF THEY WERE ACTUALLY TOGETHER!

goddamn, the wind is strong today! crazy..

(also yes this is about chris storer and the bear the day i stop talking about this is the day i die. he and i have personal beef.)

[forgetmcnotts]

GREY'S ANATOMY | Shiny Happy People (6.22)

[maeberzatto]

this scenario but with carmen and sydney after she starts dating someone new who carmen doesn’t think is good for her

[wttcsms]

there's a dark timeline out there where tumblr fanfic writers are considered influencers and get sponsorships, and during kinktober, the horniest fanfics drop and all your fave bloggers are doing "day 1 - toys" and they're including a paragraph that loosely goes something like

[maeberzatto]

hi gorgeous!! how are you <3

hi pretty!! i’m doing okay:’) i honestly got kind of burnout with the bear (season 4 lowkey was a downer for me in terms of what i wanted to happen / the unfinished ending) hence why i’ve been so busy but that’s ok!

how are you doing? ♡

[rosierecs13]

Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto Fic Recs

07/02/2025

⭒ call it fate, call it carmen by @infoactionratio7

after carmy runs into a pretty stranger in a coffee shop that morning, he never thinks he will see her again... until she walks into his restaurant.

⭒ THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE by @nicksolemnlyswears

in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

⭒ Lovesick. By @violentdelightsandviolentends

⭒ God’s Plan by @queers-gambit

your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

⭒ Girl dinner  by @mayfieldss

⭒ CINNAMON SUGAR  by @laiiaaa

Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

⭒ “you’re so mean to me.” by @writers-hes

You friend sees you at the Beef while you were helping out at the counter. Carmy feels insecure.

⭒ Sydney Saw it First by @/writers-hes

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it.

⭒ hurt to comfort by @irndad

⭒ learning in public by @ohcaptains

you didn’t think he’d enjoy it that much. didn’t think he’d want more, too.

⭒ carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto masterlist by @nolita-fairytale

⭒ Meeting Carmy by @fandomunite2107

Meeting Carmy at a family party that he was hired to cater.

⭒ tattooed on my heart  by @originalberfallday

your daughter wakes you up early and carmen distracts her with his tattoos

⭒ mama’s boy by @maeberzatto

family dinner with the berzattos was never peaceful. until donna brings up your maternity leave.

⭒ Carry You Away With Me by @rassvetsky

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. “Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?”