#ebra the bear

[veradraven]

THE BEAR

S05E08, The Original Beef of Chicagoland

[scyeschef]

The Bear S5 Trailer

[fawnsfern]

too sweet — sydney adamu x reader

pairing :: syd adamu x fem!baker!reader (established relationship circa s3)

synopsis :: you and syd don't get to see each other much during the day. luckily, on fridays, the bakery you manage closes an hour before the bear's dinner service. so, you take it upon yourself to deliver some leftover pastries to the overworked staff at the bear — especially your girlfriend.

word count :: 2.3k warnings :: swearing, obscure pastries, from reader's perspective, no use of y/n, no phsyical description but you have a nickname, questionable show accuracy (i need to rewatch the rest of s3), jen writing dialogue is a warning in itself, an unreasonable amount of fluff, this is my first fic in five years, not proofread because we've died like men since 2019 and i don't plan on stopping now

prequel is honey, we made it!

It's around block four of your walk from the bakery to The Bear that you realize you may have gone a bit overboard. Arms laden with two donut boxes full of pastries, you weave through the crowded streets of River North, trying to peer over the top of the thin cardboard edge in an attempt to dodge any poles or distracted tourists on their phones. Every Friday for the past couple of months, you've made this walk — and every week, you gaslight yourself into believing that six blocks isn't that many — failing to account for the weight of over a dozen pastries and your off-kilter center of gravity while carrying their unwieldy boxes. By the time you reach The Bear's front door, all you can spare is a half-hearted tap on the glass with your foot in way of a knock.

It's still locked (not that you could've opened it anyway), considering service doesn't start for another hour or so. You could've gone around to the back, but after too many awkward run-ins with Carmy sneaking cigarettes and knock-ins with Sweeps after a forgotten call of corner!, you decide against it. Luckily, Richie and Fak are in the front of house, bickering about god knows what — you stopped trying to understand their back-and-forth around month three of Syd's new job. But they see you, and that's all that matters this very second. Because at least you can come in and put the damn boxes down...on the bar, of course, because if the crumb-laden cardboard even went near a table this close to service, Richie would probably have a stroke. Not that you speak from experience. You weave around with practiced ease, letting Fak take the boxes from you as he and Richie look at you like you're fucking God. They've eaten family already, definitely — Nat wouldn't let them go without anything before service these days, but their excitement would suggest they hadn't eaten in weeks. They're opening the boxes already, examining your offerings of this week, Fak chanting things like the cinnamon rolls are back, baby! and is this fucking fig? Richie's pressing his cheek to both of yours, hands gripping your shoulders like you spit gospel, murmuring jesus, this is unreal, angel, before crowing "Yo, Sydney! Your girl's here!"

Even though he'd beckoned your girlfriend, Tina, Nat, and Marcus find their way out of the back first. They wrap you in warm hugs, sing praises to your generosity before going to peruse the things you've brought. You check in with Nat, coo over her very pregnant belly before the room is once again filled with chaotic overlapping chatter. "This is insane," Richie is saying around a mouthful of Earl Grey chocolate chip cookie, "there's fucking tea in this?" "Dude, you gotta try this," Fak's shoving a cinnamon roll into Richie's face. "M'not even blowing shit up your ass, they're even better than last time." "Smoke," Carmy corrects as he ducks into the room. "Uh, blowing smoke up your ass — hi, angel," he's pulling you into a quick side hug, never stopping his forward motion as he circles the bar. You have the (recurring) thought that you'd probably see him vibrating if you shrunk him down and put him under a microscope. "Hi, Carm," you reply easily, "There's a kouign-amann in there, s'what I was telling you about. Where's —"

"Hi, baby." As if you summoned her, there she is: jog-stepping out from the kitchen, wrists upheld and limp in an attempt to dry them post-prep hand wash. Syd, looking cute as ever in her millionth iteration of blue apron, white t-shirt, bright bandanna, uses you as her brake pedal, crashing into you with some force and catching your stumble backward with her arms looped around your neck.

Your arms encircle her waist from muscle memory, brushing a kiss to her temple as she presses her cheek against the slope of your jaw. Richie's wolf-whistling and Marcus is awwing, which they would have even if Syd had barely glanced in your direction. "Sorry, sorry, was prepping — had to chop all the leeks in the great state of Illinois." She's sending Carmy a sidelong glance, and you're already expecting that story later tonight. "It's okay," You reassure, untwisting the neck strap of her apron when she pulls far enough away to look at you. "Go on, eat something." A lopsided smile is already working its way over her face while you fuss over her, and she relents, peering into the boxes full of half-eaten pastries and pulling out exactly what you knew she'd go for — a hefty slice of raspberry cream cheese coffee cake, a recipe you'd been workshopping a couple weeks ago back at home.

She takes an appreciative bite, coming back to stand next to you as she chews and swallows. "You put the cardamom in there after all?" She deduces without looking up, eyes studying the cake like an architect would a blueprint. "It's great. Knew you'd decide to," she adds, slightly smug, her hand brushing yours where it rests on top of the bar; little touches like that are Syd's forte. Reminders of her presence, just like the spices in the damn coffee cake, that she'd suggested. It worked entirely too well, no surprise there — your girlfriend is as much of a genius as she is a romantic.

"You have to show me how you get this many layers, man." Marcus' voice rises above the dull roar of The Bear crew's chatter. He's holding a croissant in an outstretched arm, hoisted high like it's Simba in the fucking Lion King. "Seriously, there's so much air in here, it's unreal, chef." "Come over this weekend and I'll teach you," you're responding, ear perking up at the idea of another pastry play-date with Marcus, the name coined by Syd on a very sleep-deprived night of such nature. "You have to add more butter when you — hey, Nat, babe," you cut yourself off, eye catching on her squinting into the pastry boxes, "You still on the peach kick? 'Cuz there should be a danish in there for you." Nat looks entirely too relieved as she fishes it out of the box, her face morphing into that adorable half-pout as she calls "Mind-reader!" affectionately in your direction. "Thank you, angel," Tina's got her arms wrapped around you now, thumb rubbing fond circles against your ribcage through the fabric of Syd's your green sweater. "They're amazing as always." It brings a toothy grin to your face.

The angel nickname always does; it's something Richie started too long ago to remember, before The Beef became The Bear, some long-winded joke about how you could make snow angels in the amount of flour that usually coated your clothes. It had been funny then, and even though no one could recall the full story anymore, the term of endearment stuck around. It always sounds the sweetest coming from Tina, though. "Of course," You respond, eyes fond on the woman's sweetly smiling face. "It's only fair, seeing as my work day ends at four and yours is barely starting." Syd's lithe fingers thread the rest of the way through yours, offering a gentle squeeze, an acknowledgement of your kindness in her own right. You send her a smile, and she's already looking, brown eyes soft in a way you can never resist blushing at.

"Speaking of," Richie's voice rises over the group, filled with a bit more bass as he steps back into his authoritative shoes. "I hate to break this up, chefs, but front-of-house brief is in ten minutes. Everyone say thank you to angel before I kick her out."

This elicits a chorus of groans, Syd and Carmy being the only ones to call back with "Heard!", the response baked into their psyche, although Syd's is more than a little half-hearted. Her tone sounds like how you feel, knowing you won't see her again for probably six or seven hours, but there's no use trying to bend The Bear's schedule. You reluctantly slip from Syd's grasp, moving to transfer the leftover pastries into one box and close it. "Here," you direct your words to Richie. "You guys do your thing. I'll put these in the office before I head out." Fak is already fistpumping at the idea of being able to sneak more pastries after service, and Nat's also looking more than pleased. Everyone is, really, even Carmy, who sends you off with a thank you amongst the chorus of goodbyes from those heading back into the kitchen. Richie approves of your trespass into the back, speaking conspiratorily out of the corner of his mouth. "S'agood thing you're leaving the extras here, angel. The bitch," read: Carmen Berzatto "he's been on another level lately. Your girl's gonna need another croissant. Or five." Of course, Richie's whisper is anything but, and Carmy's calling out a fuck you through the pass as Syd turns you by the shoulders and marches you toward the office, palms pressing into your spine like some sans-music-two-person conga line. "Thanks for looking out," you project toward Richie over your shoulder, if only to pull a breathy half-laugh from Syd behind you. It's not as cheerful as you'd like to see her, but you'll take what you can get. Once in the office, you set the pastries on the desk's corner for safekeeping, before turning to face your girlfriend, hands on hips. "On a scale of one to ten, how badly was Richie exaggerating?" Syd sighs, palm wiping down her face as Carmy's raised voice reaches the two of you through the door. "Like, literally zero." "Maybe Carmy needs the extra five croissants." "At this point, I'm not sure if even your baking can save him." "Oh, so we need to commit him?" That gets a laugh out of her, a real one, and it makes you smile so wide that you have to wait until she recovers before speaking again. "Hey, I have a surprise for you." "Uh oh, never a good sign." "Hey!" You reach into the tote bag perpetually slung over your shoulder, fishing out a brown parchment paper bag from the bakery. "Here. I think it has the healing power of, say, five to eight croissants, if we're being generous." Syd takes the bag, pulling apart the open edge to peer inside, her eyes narrowed. They widen, just as fast, though, and soon she's looking back to you with eyebrows shot sky-high. "No way."

You grin, unable to resist rocking forward on the balls of your feet to peer at the orange poppyseed scone in the bag — because lemon is just too overdone, as you'd told her back when you'd first made them. Since then, they'd always been her favorite, despite being one of the simpler pastries you make at the bakery. You suspect it has something to do with the fact that it's the first recipe you ever made for her. "I saved you one." "You're such a dick!" She swats at your arm, but the grin lighting up her entire face tells a different story. "You told me they sold out this morning!" "They were. This morning. I made more around two-ish because there's this old lady who always takes her granddaughter in after school, it's her favorite- and, because I knew you'd probably need one to get you through-" She cuts you off with a kiss: soft, sweet, and tasting like oranges — because, you realize, she's already taken a bite. The scone is still in her hand when her arms return to their home around your neck, her body leaning into yours like she's trying to seep into you. "Thank you, baby." She murmurs against your shoulder. "This is much better than an unreasonable amount of croissants. You're sweet for this — n'bringing stuff for everyone else, too." "You're sweeter." "You're a sap." "You love it, though." "Yeah," she sighs, face still curled into the crux of your neck. The silence stretches for a few breaths before she pipes back up. "Probably won't be home until late tonight. Have a bad feeling about this one." "Don't say that," You coo into her hair. "Hey, you have a scone in your system now. Nothing can go wrong." "Wise words," she mumbles, more than skeptical, but fond all the same. "I'll wait up for you," you tell her, fingers combing their way through her braids. "I'll make pasta or something I can't fuck up, and you can tell me all about how we're going to murder Carmy in cold blood over the leek thing." "You're gonna fall asleep watching Somebody Feed Phil on the couch again," she rebuts, but you can feel her grin against your collarbone. "That was one time!" "One time last week. Last week." "I resent that," You pull your head far enough back so you can look her in the eye with faux disapproval. "I'm stealing the good sweatpants tonight." "Fuuuck you," she says, still smiling. Somewhere in there is an agreement that okay, fine, Syd has to go work for real now, and you should probably head out the back before Richie drags you by your hair. You press a lingering kiss to her lips, then one to her forehead. "I'll see you tonight. Awake, okay? I love you." "Love you more." She presses one more peck to your lips, takes one more bite of scone, and slinks toward front-of-house, Richie's voice already starting to echo through the pass. You ensure the half-eaten scone makes its way back into the bag before slipping out the back door, waving goodbye to Sweeps and Ebra as you do. The sun is just starting to sink in the sky, and it's a little chillier, but Syd's sweater keeps you more than warm enough. Your arms are no longer weighted down by heavy boxes, and they swing along cheerily at your sides as you start the walk toward the train station. Your mouth still tastes a little like orange glaze. Yeah, the six-block balancing act every Friday evening is more than worth it.

a/n :: haha...come here often? so apparently i write fics now??? not sure if this is gonna become a regular thing but if you leave fun requests in my inbox...MAYBE more is to come....anyways hopefully this doesn't suck! and if it does just lie and tell me you liked it /hj

© by @/pb-n-jen: do not reproduce, alter, or share my work to other websites without permission! divider creds to @/bbyg4rlhelps and @/strangergraphics!

[neonovember]

This is an idea that’s been on my mind lately because Carmy would be so protective and would 100% treat his gf like a princess, so I thought I’d send it in ifs it’s okay!!🤧

Can I please request Carmy x fem!reader where it’s based off the song “Treat You Better”, where she’s one of his chefs, and Carmy has a biiiig soft spot for her, like soft smiles, hand on the small of her back. Y/n is veryyyy soft spoken and quiet, a very stark contrast to the rest of The Beef/The Bear staff. The staff absolutely love her and are super protective of her: She’s best friends with Sydney (also she’s around the same age as Syd, early 20s), Tina sees her as a daughter, Marcus is always trying to make her laugh and asks her to try his pastries, Richie is more gentle with her than he is with everyone else, Ebra has a calmness around Y/n, Sugar (when she stops by) loves treating Y/n like the little sister she never had, and Carmy… Carmy is head over heels for Y/n. He’s so soft and gentle with her, never raising his voice at her in the kitchen, and he always has the cutest nicknames for her🤧. However… Y/n has a boyfriend, they all know it, and they all share an extreme dislike for him. He’s not very nice, and it all goes to a boiling point when they spot bruises, Y/n letting her hair fall over her face.🥺 Tina and Sydney probably noticing right as she walks in one morning, then the rest of the staff noticing too, the whole kitchen getting eerily quiet, Carmy pulling her aside to his office to talk to her, holding Y/n in his arms while she cries🥺 Carmy 100% taking his bat and beating the crap out of her bf… Now ex, and he offers for Y/n to stay with him because she has nowhere to go? Their relationship growing after that? Y/n kissing him one day, shook at herself, but he kisses her back?

July in November

carmen berzatto x fem! reader

warnings: heavy domestic abuse, controlling fiance, swearing, violence, carmen goes gives absolute no regard for felonies, (assumed) unrequited love, self deprecation, victim blaming

a/n: this entire fic is just time skips l swear, I've written something similar here as well if you liked this which i hope you did! dv is a heavy subject, and not something to trivialise. if you or someone you know is going through dv, please reach out x

banner from @firefly-graphics

The streaks of concealer do little to hide the bloom of dark purples and blues.

They stretch out, clawing up your side and past your ribs, shades of overlapping blotched bruises that were not yet healed.

You were a chef trained in Oslo for god sake, you had friends and family who loved you- and you let out a laugh when the words come out pathetic and dull. 

You were right where he left you.

You suppose from the continuous uphill of your career, the exhaustion had made it easier to just sit still, let it happen. He had proposed and you had said yes unblinking. It was what he told the countless people at dinner parties he dragged you to in attendance, 

“I had finally beat her down enough to finally fall in love with me” He smiled, his eyes shining and his grip on your waist bruising as the people smiled and laughed and you swallowed back his irony.

The cycles of abuse had started before you could truly remember, bouts of angry yelling before the hot dull beat of pain. And he was so kind after, so thoughtful and apologetic, his eyebrows furrowed and his touch gentle as he leaned over you.

Were you still a victim, if you wanted to stay just for the after?

You shake your head, slowly blinking at the reflection of your bloated torso. Peeling away your shirt gently before buttoning up one of your work shirts instead.

Your heart settled when you thought of the Bear. It was your haven, Richie’s rambled drivel, Sugar hovering every so near, Carmen with his eyes and his inked hands and his sweet mouth. It wrapped around you more tightly than those bruises ever could.

You look over to watch your fiancé, fast asleep content with a full stomach and tired fists. He was so vulnerable like that, and the feeling of anger unfurls in your gut. For once, just one time you wanted him to feel it, that gut wrenching frightened feeling.

You look over to the stone doorstep near his desk, the stupid thing that he had revered at one of his art conventions that was left keeping the door open. You wonder, just for a second, what it would feel like to lean over him with it between your hands, waiting for the slight blink of his eyes that clear away the sleep. 

Watch the fear melt into them, and smashing his fucking face with it.

You breathe deeply, arranging your hair so it is out of your face, flattening out the creases in your shit and avoiding your stomach as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“Where are you going” 

You blink, hands gripping your work bag as his voice bellows “Work”

“Huh. We need to sort that out soon”

You stopped, closing your eyes as you fiddled with the loose threads from the shoulder strap. You knew this conversation, where he would bring up another thing in your life he wanted to talk about, as if your relationship was built on a solid base of understanding and conversation. You would wait until his voice would ripen with jealousy and rage, where thinly veiled inquisition would fall away and reveal what he truly wanted. 

You had given him enough of your life, let him change and control it. But you would soon let yourself be buried then let him take this too from you. No fucking way.

“Sure”

You pass by the door, pushing the stone to the side. It wasn’t heavy at all.

It’s when you enter the back door of the Bear do you realise you’ve spent your whole commute over holding your breath.

The smells of sauces and expensive meats lulls your anxiety into a mummering tremble, and you sigh softly to yourself as you sling your bag into your locker.

You can already hear Richie arguing, and the tired voice of Carmen biting back and you want to slap yourself for all the times you had grown annoyed at them. What you would give to hear them always, to feel this level of safety and comfort without the overhanging timer of when you would eventually have to leave.

You nod towards Sydney, carrying a large tray of roasted pecans over to Sam, her braids intricately wrapped around her head.

The walkway is framed with pictures of the family, from Mickey to the recent Polaroids of Sugar's newborn. You notice a framed picture of the team from years ago, when you had first started working at the Bear. You’re squished between Carmen and Fak, the backdrop of a renovating Bear behind you all. 

The timidiness of being new had not left then, and despite the family enveloping you as their own you had wondered why Carmen had chosen you out of all the decorated chefs that had surely applied. You had asked him this once, after an exhausting dinner rush and he had simply looked up at you from his plate of stolen steak and eggs. 

“You’ve got something, Kid. Maybe it’s because you hadn’t yet gotten the light beaten out from the culinary world but I need that. Need someone who pushes against the boundaries you know?”

You had stayed quiet as he talked

“And you’re a local. Boston isn’t for the faint of heart, you know your diners better than they know themselves. Call it prejudice, I call it a safety cushion.“

You wondered what she would think of you now, her wide eyed dream so close you could see her tight grip on her chef coat in the grainy photograph.

You follow the noise of the crew into the kitchen, when Carmen is hunched over a chopping board and Richie is pointing out problems in the seating arrangement for tonight.

He exhales, ready to start another contingent when he spots your figure walking through the entryway.

“Finally. Someone fucking competent in this place” 

“Hey Richie” You smile, tightening your apron before biting back a wince. The darkness of your life outside of the Bear had a way of seeping in at times, you had grown too comfortable.

“Hey baby, you good? yeah?” Richie replies

“Richie-“ Carmen interrupts, turning his head to face you for the first time in an hour (which you did not realise but Riche surely did) 

“Fuck off. Fuck you. You sure baby? Need me to get you somethin? I got a pack of Marlboros if you need a break”

“Leave her alone, dammit Richie, and a cigarette this early?”

“Oh! Oh! The addict wants to act holier than thou all of a sudden. Just because you slapped on a couple Nic patches-“

“It’s gum and it’s fucking working asshole”

“The L hold you up?” Richie says, throwing the finger at Carmen

“No, no, um, just got in a little fight with David” You reply, cutting your eyes away from him.

Richie rolls his eyes with a groan, a sour expression filters over his face in flash at the mention of your fiance’s name.

“That fuckin’ guy, I swear that boyfriend of yours” Richie groans

“It was my fault really.”

You notice Carmen’s movements stop abruptly, the chopping growing silent with his back turned to you.

“I highly doubt that” Carmen grumbles, before Tina and Sydney come through the door

“Hey, why were you late you missed out on that guy who tried fighting Fak-”

“Her stupid fucking boyfriend”

“Easy” Carmen replies, turning to face you again

“Hey, c’mon Carmen you of all people know that man does not deserve her one fucking bit”

“Darling you need to get rid of that man I’m telling you, he ain't treating you the way you deserve. There's no good keeping an angry man” Tina chides, eyebrows raised as she wipes her fingers on the cloth draped over her shoulder.

“Yeah, he's a dick. And he’s always just…hovering when he comes.” Sydney replies

“And always talk in this condescending tone, adding random words to sound smarter than he is” Marcus’s voice interjects, peeking from around the pastry corner

“Like pseudo-intellectual goddamn-” Tina grumbles, in lightning speed

“Yuppie” Fak continues, and Tina nods 

“All I’m saying doll, is that if you end up dumpin’ him we’d be right behind ya’. Might throw a little party here, a small one…how much does it cost to hire some fireworks?”

“Ease up guys, her love life ain’t got nothing to do with us alright. Let the girl be” Carmen voice bellows “And we got work to do”

He turns to the rest of them, shaking his head feigning annoyance at the team gathering together to gossip. And yet, his hands grip his towel tight enough to leave them white, and his teeth grind against his molars when he thinks of your boyfriend.

You don’t know how they'd react when they find out he proposed, you can’t exactly hide a ring.

“Hey” You smile towards Carmen, who’s twisted features blink into resolve when he hears you

“Hey” He nods, wincing as he pressed his fingers to his temple gingerly.

“Still got that headache?”

“I’ll be fine, just wish it would save the eye stabbing until after dinner service”

“Here”

“I’m alright-“

“Take it” you repeat, pressing some pain killers in his hand.

Carmen nods gratefully, hands clasped around yours for a second longer. Before they part.

He eyes the pills, and for a second you see this puzzled look gleam across his eyes.

He pops them in his mouth, you let out a breath from your chest quietly.

You kept your work and home life separate, Carmen didn’t need nor should carry the burden of this ugly secret that paints you from the inside out.

You had a lid on it. You were sure.

You let yourself get lost in the ingrained memory of moving around the kitchen, letting the slice of your knife against the flesh of meat and fruit melt away everything you had been shouldering the past year.

It gets busy, really busy, Richie and Carmen fail to cohabitate in the hours of the dinner service, multiple plates are dropped, you almost can’t keep up with the never ending orders coming in but its also fucking amazing. The rush of delivering every component of a plate in time, making sure the meat is cooked until just right, making sure the sauce isn't runny, it feels like dancing. 

Your legs and arms ache, you have a headache and your apron is stained and you can’t tell the difference between the end of the dinner service and hitting the last step of a choreographed dance.

The high that buzzes through your body is mirrored by everyone around you, and you take a second to sink in that feeling of euphoria as the last tables are cleared.  

“That was..” You start, un-hunching your shoulders as the rest of the team look up in a daze, surrounding the kitchen

“Fuckin’ amazing, might be our best night yet” Richie grins, bobbing his chin as it rests on his hands

“That was good..we could've been a bit better at turning the tables-” Carmen murmurs

“Oh c’mon Carmy, we can talk about the finalities later but even you can admit that was pretty good” Sydney calls out, leaning her head against the door frame, as exhausted pulls at her every feature

“Yeah…yeah it was good”

“No one go anywhere, I’ve got left over schnitzel and potatoes and I know none of you have taken a break”

“How long has it been since we’ve sat down for family?” Tina mumbles, wiping her stained apron tiredly

“Too long, I don’t mind fixin’ it up” You stretch out your arms, unbuttoning your chef's coat and folding it neatly, despite Sugar throwing them into the sink to soak for the night later.

“I’ll help” Carmen nods to you, doing the same with his apron. His dark crew neck that sticks to him reveals with every button, outlining the indentations of his chest and biceps.

Family usually consists of throwing whatever leftovers from the night's dinner service onto a large plate and proceeding to throw some forks near it. There had been a long trail of food combinations that either delighted the crew or had you throwing your towel in and going to the taco truck nearby.

Today however, the night had gone so well and had distracted you even better. You could at least make up some plates, make ‘em look pretty or whatever else your hands had been trained to do.

The rest of the team move the tables to form one large spanning diner in the middle of the Bear, the scrape of wood against flooring is all that fills the air as you and Carmen work silently. You’re good together, that sort of chemistry that only comes with understanding a person so well you can anticipate their next move. And the night feels like a dance again, moving left and right, handing him pieces of chicken and spoonfuls of sauce, wiping plates clean and centering them right.

It’s only when Richie comes tumbling through the double doors does it cause Carmen to jump, spilling the ladle of hot gravy across your shirt. You wince, Carmen lets out a garbled grunt and Richie cringes.

Carmen is quick, reaching for a nearby cloth as he begins to lift up your shirt gingerly. The sauce isn't boiling, but there is a slight stinging heat that radiates across your midsection and you're too distracted and uncomfortable that you forget yourself, and let Carmen reveal you.

It takes Carmen a second, he's pulling your shirt up just below your underbra, and his fingers pause against the fabric.

You’re confused just for a moment, but it stretches out, and you let yourself sit in the fantasy of unknowing, you let yourself imagine a life where what was sprawled across your skin was just the remnants of a soggy shirt and irritated skin.

The truth of it hits you when you watch Carmen's face change in front of you.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t-”

“What?” Richie calls, coming closer before throwing his head back

“Jesus fuckin' christ kid” 

“I-I we got into a fight-“

“A fight? He beat you!”

“You don’t understand-”

“Maybe I don’t but this-“ Carmen gestures to the welts and colours that paint your stomach “Is one of the worst things I’ve seen in a long time”

Carmen’s hands are still gripping your shirt, the rag dropped to the floor between you now as you lower your head and let your hair cover your eyes.

“I’m sorry-“ You croak out, tongue heavy and eyes blurring with tears.

“Sorry-?” Carmen circuses down to meet your eyes incredulously “You’re sorry? Why are you fucking sorry, look what he fucking did to you!- what has he done to you?”

“Hey hey, honey you need to tell us what happened. This isn’t right, no fight can justify this” Richie whispers, crouching near you as he watches Carmen carefully.

“It was an accident”

“Do you truly believe that?” Richie murmurs softly, and you look up with a furrow of your brow. 

You turn to Carmen whose face is twisted in anger, his eyes on your midsection, his hands around your sides and around you.

“I don’t know anymore..I’m just so tired” You whimper, your throat growing tight as Carmen’s brows furrow, blinking and grinding his jaw

“I’m going to fucking kill him-“

“Hey, Carmen wait just- wait” Richie is quick to reach Carmen as he rears back

“Look at her- he can’t-FUCK”

“I know, and we will. I want to break his goddamn legs but we got to think of her. We need to get her out of this, we need to think about her first”

Carmen closes his eyes as you watch their interaction, and he turns to you as you blink the tears that drop down your cheek. He frowns and waits for your approval and you nod, and Richie lets go of him and he gathers you in his arms and lets you cry the last of your resolve on his shoulder.

You don’t tell him anything, and he doesn’t ask. He lets you wet his shoulder as the silence that sits in the kitchen is consumed by your muffled cries instead. 

The commotion causes the rest of the team to flood in, putting the pieces together when they see your shoulders shaking with grief and your unbuttoned top. The bear hung with the sick reality of a beat woman, and the once hungry crew now felt the nauseous image in front of them fill their stomach.

Sydney is the one that eases you out of Carmen’s arms, and pulls your hair back as she whispers apologies into your ear. She takes you to the emergency room to make sure nothing is broken. When the nurses greet you by name she waits until you're in the examination room before sobbing into Tina’s arms.

“How did I not notice, I see her every goddamn day, how did I not notice he was hurting her?”

“Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. There is only one person to blame”

The rest of the team follows, and they all sprawl across the waiting room, heads between their hands.

After one of the junior doctors gives you the all clear, and Carmen and Richie follow up on the police report you make your way down the linoleum hallway in the crumbled stained shirt that had started this all.

You blink as you watch the faces of everyone you love look up in worry, exhaustion is written into their bones and still they sit in the too small waiting chairs for you. You had never felt a love like that before, so profound and overwhelming clear and you breathe it in deeply like it's the last thing you’ll taste.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t you fuckin dare-”

“I know, I know, just please hear me.”

They relent, and you wait until they all nod towards you before continuing

“You guys have taken me as your own, made me feel a part of something greater than myself.  I don’t want you to think I was unloved” Your voice heightens with the wet tears that fill your throat

“Every single time I came through those doors I felt it okay? I never understood the power of it, of love, but I feel it now and I felt it then. It just got muddled in the middle of all of this, of all the things I keep hidden. And that is my fault, but you guys, the Bear? You guys kept me alive” You whisper the last part, your voice caught in your throat as you try to still the shake your hands.

“You did nothing wrong baby, nothing. It’s hard to leave isn’t it? It’s hard to even say it” Ebra is the first one to whisper, holding your hands gently and carefully. You look at him, as his eyes gleam with the heaviness of his past and you don’t quite understand how, but you believe he knows that well. 

“We’re your family, whatever it is that you're dealing with we shoulder it to, we carry that burden. That is what we're here for, and you can take all the time that you need. Let us help you, but you know what happens now, yes?” Richie murmurs

“I need to get out”

“Damn fucking right you do. And fast, I know it's going to be hard but you need to act like everything is normal. Get in, pack a bag and get out.”

You breathe in deeply, remembering all the half packed duffle bags that had been left near the door. This time you wouldn't be able to back out, this time Carmen would make sure of it.

“Where’s Carmen?” You suddenly say, and Richie shifts his gaze to the exit sign.

“Maybe give him a few moments Kid” Richie murmurs, but you ignore him, moving quickly towards and out of the doors into the smoking area in the alleyway.

You spot him hunched over, back against the stone wall, trails of grey smoke filters from his mouth as you tsk loudly when you near him.

He raises his head up, widening his eyes before looking down at the cigarette.

“You were doing so good” You smile softly

“Yeah? Felt like pulling teeth, not grabbing for one every couple hours.”

“But those chewing gums”

Carmen shakes his head “Don’t tell Rich, but they were fucking disgusting”

You let out a hearty laugh, leaning back on the wall beside him.

Carmen takes one last deep drag, before pressing the butt of the stick into the wall that isn't near you.

It’s silent, and you feel him watching you for a long time before his voice replies in a croaky tear filled tone you had never heard come out of his mouth before.

“Goddamn it kid”

“I know” You reply instantly, the tears that you thought had left you were big fat liars.

“I want to blame myself, I will for a long time but this isn’t about me is it”

You shake your head furiously, it was so far apart from him. 

“What can I do? What can I do to make it better?” Carmen whispers, turning to face you fully now, eyes red and blonde curls messy across his brows.

“It’s not something you can fix Carm, you just got to let me do it. Let me walk away completely”

Carmen grits his teeth, “I should’ve made more attention-”

“How? Between renovating the Bear, organising the menu, fucking opening and maintaining the dinner service every night?”

Carmen shakes his head and you tug at his arm gently

“I didn’t let you notice Carm, I hid it well sometimes I even forgot about it. The bear, you? You let me forget, you let me feel so safe I forgot what he was doing to me”

Carmen reaches for your hand, holding onto it gently 

You shake your head, shaking the tears along with it. You hadn’t so much as let yourself hear the truth of what had been happening, but it flowed out of your mouth like a river into Carmen.

“He got drunk one night” You whisper, biting your cheek as you bristle at the memory of it

“He got drunk one night, and started accusing me of these horrible things. Things I would never do. And when I tried talking to him he just turned to me with this look in his eyes, and it was so unlike him Carm. It was like someone else had come and taken his body, and his voice and his mouth”

“And when I reached for him he reached back. And then I suppose I got used to being afraid of him”

“I don’t know what changed that night, but it did. Or maybe he had always been that way and I had been to blind by the feeling of being wanted that I ignored it. But it got worse, he hit me, but he started controlling what I was doing. Always flinging my phone in my face so that he could look for something that wasn’t there, eyes always scrutinising me when I came home fucking exhausted from the Bear.”

“That was how it started, and I guess it never quite ended” You murmur, and when Carmen drags his thumb across your cheek, you understand the rage that he had kept covered for you.

“I’m going to hurt him. And that's more for me than it is for you, I know it and I don’t care. He doesn't get to walk away.” Carmen replies after a beat, and his voice is even. You can see his anger from before slipping into the darkness of his pupils, but his voice is clear and devoid.

“I know” You murmur

“And you’re going to stay with me till we get you a place. Tina and Syd offered and well the whole team, but I can’t-”

“I know, you can’t put them in danger”

“No. I can’t let it happen, you being alone, him somehow getting to you. You being hurt again-” Carmen shakes his head, grinding his jaw as he cuts his eyes away.

“Okay” You mumble, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your secret that had weighed you down every day fall away.

The month after had passed quicker than any other time in your life. And for that you were grateful. You had packed a bag and moved into Carmen's apartment that night, and he and Richie had made good on their promise. They watched, as well as the rest of the Bear with a sneer as your fiance was carried into the police station, and you watched the mirror of your injuries multiplied across his face. 

The police had been slow in taking action, even you know this, so you suppose their tight lipped expressions at the beaten man they found in your trashed apartment made up for that.

Carmen slept near the door for the first two weeks, a bat in his hand and his notebook of recipes filled with scribbled annotations. Tossing and turning enough times, made you wrap your blanket around yourself and join him by the door. You would wake up some nights, in a sweat from the terror of your nightmare imagining him somehow finding you, and you would join him those times as well.

The truth of all that had happened still had not yet been told, and you doubt that it ever will. But you were okay with that, and Carmen was too. And so when your fiance had been tried and sentenced, and the promise of broken bones hung over him even years after, Carmen had made no mention of finding you a place. 

And so you stayed, and made a home for yourself. Let your shoes get muddled and clutter the hallway, have your toothbrush besides his own. Move in the last pieces of yourself that had been left in that prison to a place that could maybe change them.

You spent Thursdays with Richie, he’d wait at the foyer for you and he'd take you out for lunch like clockwork. Divulging in your week as he did his, he let you steal some of his cigarettes and you let him ramble to you. Richie had surprised you, when all was said and done. He had known what to do, knew how to talk to you, and you think you credit him to a lot of where you were now. You suppose he blames himself a little as well, so you don’t mind that Thursdays were his way of checking up on you.

You let the team act the same way, Tina bringing you plates of food and tupper wares of lasagna till Carmen's fridge was hard to open, Sydney calling every day, Ebra and Marcus making sure you had someone who could walk you home if Carmen had to stay back. And when you had finally had enough, they nodded and backed away and let you out of their grip.

You're crouched in the fire escape of Carmen's building, passing a bottle of wine that you had snuck from service. 

“I visited him today”

“What?” Carmen replies, knowing immediately who you were talking about.

You shrug your shoulders, “I was too much of a mess to confront him, and the court proceedings left me too numb to even face him. But I went today, and I told him. What he had done, how he had changed.”

“But then he laughed and I punched him in his goddamn mouth”

“Atta girl” Carmen grins, his smile filling up the entire bottom of his face.

“So I can’t ever come back to the Boston Corrections facility, and boy am I glad. You know what this means though right?”

“Hm?” Carmen mumbles with a mouthful of street tacos

“You can’t ever get yourself thrown in prison” You chide, and you smile when he throws his head back in laughter

“Seriously Carm?” You bemoan, resting against the living room entryway

“Yes, the bed is strictly meant for you. What do you take me for? Letting a woman sleep on the couch” Carmen gruffs, carefully placing the duvet over the couch cushions.

“It’s been nearly a year since I’ve moved in, Carmen. I don’t think it's ridiculous to assume we can share a bed together”

Carmen grinds his jaw, swallowing back grunt at the thought of sharing a bed with you. As if it was no big thing, as if Carmen would be able to sleep with you next to him.

“It’s called being a host”

“I signed the lease 2 months ago, we’re technically de-facto” You raise your eyebrows, folding your hands across your chest

“The only time I’ll let the government decide what we are is when-if I put a ring on that finger” Carmen replies, the little slip causing him to cut his eyes from you and back to the duvet that was already folded.

You shake your head with a laugh “This you’re way of proposing Carm? Take a girl out for dinner first”

Carmen mumbles under his breath, flattening the duvet with his inked hands before his phone buzzes

“Goddamnit, that’s Richie. 

“Leave that sofa and let's go down to meet our friends and have a nice time. God knows we’ve earned more than a few drinks at Nick’s” You reply, swiping Carmen’s phone

“Hey!”

“You weren’t even going to answer him” You roll your eyes.

You send Richie a text that was all apologetic and none grammatically correct as you shuffle out of your work pants into some jeans. 

The team was already at the bear, halfway through the first round of drinks and you’d be damned if you let Carmen make the both of you late.

Carmen is in jeans as well, and the white shirt he always dons fits around his chest tightly. You can lie to yourself most days, but in times like this, where you both live in this domestic bubble your mind wanders.

You don’t let it too much.

But when you're visiting family, and you pass by the Louisiana welcome sign planted in the roadway, and the weather gets warm and the nights stretch out you let yourself think of him. You let yourself imagine a life where he was entwined, in you, your life, your days while you drink on the porch of your family home.

The thought of being in anything new scares you to no end, your past finds you in moments you least expect and dredges you down to the same feeling you felt when you were with him.

But Carmen was your past too wasn’t he? He was muddled and interlinked with all the memories that make your chest ache and your hands shake. Carmen didn’t feel new..you had already been living with each other for a year now, and you suppose the way you both flow into each other's lives was no different.

You’d be together, in the way you had always been but different also. You’d get to grow familiar of the taste of him, you’d get to feel him under your skin, beneath your fingers, and he’d sleep in that fucking bed for the first time in a year.

Then the sun would dip below the horizon, the sounds of the insects and birds would come back to you, and the creeping shadow of guilt and insecurity would remind you of who you were again. 

You’d taste the bitter embarrassment of forcing Carmen to be that way with you, throwing your head back as you gulp down the beer in your hand as you try to stave away the taste. The dream disappears each time from you, like the oranges and reds that paint the Louisiana sky every evening.

“Hey, we going or what?” Carmen says, his eyes narrowing at, you noticing the way your eyes glaze over.

“Yeah, yes” You nod, swallowing the thoughts of him quickly as you finish tying your boots and let Carmen lock the door behind you. 

The bar is surprisingly crowded on a Tuesday night, and you have to squeeze past crowds of leather wearing bikers before finally seeing the team seated in a long booth at the back.

“Finally!” Richie yells, hands in the air and his beer swishing out of the neck.

“We were about to send a search party” Tina smiles, looking toward you with a glint in her eyes when she notices Carmen’s arm at your back.

“Aren’t you guys like, a 2 minute walk from this place? Fak got here before you” Marcus replied, his old fashioned nursed in your arms.

“I had no involvement in our tardiness, he was too busy fixing his makeshift couch bed”

“Oh don’t tell me your still sleeping on that” Richie’s eyes widen

“You know that ain’t even a good couch right? We found it on the side of the road-“ 

“It’s not good for your back Carmen, all those cushions” Ebra shakes his head disapprovingly.

“It’s perfectly fine Ebra, and who would I be if I let a woman sleep on the couch?” Carmen grumbles, as both slide into the booth next to Sydney.

“I mean, there is an easy straightforward solution” Sydney murmurs, and everyone turns to her quickly.

“You could both just sleep in the same bed together” She replies, after looking at everyone dumbfounded.

“Only married people share a bed, that’s Sicilian tradition”

“Yeah, mixing work and personal life isn’t-“

“Mixing? They already live together!” Sydney replies, defensively.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already” Four murmured, before snapping his mouth closed when Carmen narrows his eyes to him.

“It’s not about fucking tradition, or whatever. I’m not gonna put her-you in that situation and make you uncomfortable”

“Why would you make me uncomfortable?” You murmur without thinking, and the booth goes quiet.

Carmen shakes his head, blinking as you remain quiet.

You wince at the silence, maneuvering your body quickly out of the booth as you almost fall out.

“Uh-I’m going to get a drink” You reply quickly 

Carmen's body isn’t fast enough for his legs and he stands up from his position on the booth quickly, almost tumbling over.

 “I’ll come with you”

You shake your head, forcing a tight smile as you wave him off.

“It’s okay, I know your order” You reply quickly, turning around without seeing the look on Carmen’s face.

You slide into one of the vacant barstools, signalling to the bartender as they make the rounds across the counter.

The rows of silver bracelets that hang around the bartender's wrists cling as they mix and shake drinks, and you let yourself get lost in the glittering light show of them reflecting off the bar lights. They distract you enough to not notice the man that now leers over you.

You flinch when you feel his hand touch your shoulder, and when you turn expecting one of the guys from the Bear you're taken back when you're met with a five o clock shadow and a stink of vodka.

“What's a girl like you doin’ all alone?” 

“I’m good” You grit out from between your teeth

“Oh c’mon, you girls love to play hard but what you really need-”

“I said leave me alone asswhole” You spit, roughly moving his latched fingers from your shoulder. 

The man sneers, his voice growing louder and sloppy as he begins to swear at you. His hands find their way to your waist, and the shiver of disgust turns into a familiar sharp pain as you shout out.

“You fucking bitch” The man starts, before you see the flash of dirty blonde curls cover your vision and the feeling of his fingers around you is wrenched off.

Carmen’s hands are around his neck, and he slams him into the wooden floors of the Bar with ease. He holds him there before turning to look up at you, his eyes blown out and his eyebrows furrowed behind his curls. Your chest heaves as you meet his gaze, and you watch as his eyes trail down your body, almost surveying the extent of your injuries and filing it into his mind so that it is all he thinks about when he breaks the skin across his knuckles.

You watch Carmen work, watch the way his shoulders and back contorts under every movement that lands a punch into the man's face. The buzzing chatter of the bar increases, as people begin to take notice of the shouts of frazzled swears and slobby slurs that leave the man's mouth. Someone screams there is a fight, and the bartender mutters obscenities as they try to push through the crowd.

Carmen lands punch after punch into his face, with no real sense of stopping as his movements grow more and more crazed with every crack of skin and dribble of blood that paints his hands. Carmen's eyes look determined, like he had a goal to all of this, and when Richie and the rest of the team pushes past the crowd and shouts out to him to stop, he looks up at you do you know.

You didn’t get to see what he had done to your husband, or how. But now, he takes his time with the man under him who kicks and fails, blubbering out blood and drool. He continues to stare at you, and the rest of the patrons look on in horror as the man under Carmen becomes disguised by the brutality of Carmens fists across his body. You hear the crack of bone, and when the man screams out a loose and garbled apology from the swollen tongue of his mouth, does Carmen flick his eyes down to him.

“You’re sorry? Yeah?” Carmen murmurs, softly

The man nods eagerly, his mouth filling with blood and his eyes swollen

“I’m not sure I believe that” Carmen replies, sending his foot into the mans stomach as he keels over

“Okay, Carmen that's enough” Richie calls out

“All I did was ask her a question!” The man screams out, his words jagged and unclear

“Hey, you shut the fuck up” Richie replies, before clocking his head to try and meet Carmens gaze who is back on you

“Look man, I get it. That one time wasn’t enough, but you can’t keep doing this”

Carmen grinds his teeth, as you look on in awe as his knuckles bleed violently, throwing his arm up and swinging down onto the man.

You got what you needed from this, and so when you step closer to Carmen and turn your head to the side you can only think of one thing

“I’m banned for at least 12 months” 

You watch his fingers loosen around the man's bloody shirt, and Carmen wipes his hands across the man's chest before slowly straightening up from his crouched position.

“Get the fuck out, the both of you before the cops get here” The bartender grits out, shaking his head.

Carmen nods, “I’m not fucking sorry”

“Yeah yeah I know” The bartender rolls his eyes, before you grab Carmen's arm and push through the gawking faces of onlookers

You find a door leading out to a side alleyway, and you both fall out from the door into a combined heap.

“I had to do it okay? The way he was looking at you and that fucking hand around your side I couldn’t just let him-“ Carmen starts, chest heaving up and down and the splatter of spit and blood across his jaw

You don’t let him finish the rushed words that fall out of his mouth before you cover it with your own. Gripping onto the loose collar of his shirt, you drink down the anger and violence that had been festering on the both of you.

Carmen tastes sweet, like the cranberry jus he had been preparing, and rough too, like his worn workmen jacket and the pepper taste of his nicotine gum.

You realise then that you would never taste something as great as that, and that you would be chasing the feeling of how Carmen’s lips against your own vibrates through you from head to foot.

You pull away with quickness, chest heaving and eyes wide as you feel Carmen’s mouth warm your chest.

Carmen doesn’t blink, he stares at you, the brittle Chicago winter blowing his hair across his forehead and the distant sound of sirens and he stares at you.

“I’m not sorry” You whisper, pressing your lips together

“Good” Carmen replies before you’ve even uttered the last word.

And when you blink the cold smoke of his breath is over you again, his inked fingers cradle your head and he takes your mouth again.

You don’t stop the crash of your open mouths and dipping tongues until the warmth of Carmen covers you entirely, until November in Chicago feels like July.

taglist !

@kpopgirlbtssvt @hansfics @nolita-fairytale @parmforcarm @rooster-bradshaw

[bearedits4me]

[peetairl]

“Don’t be scared by his blue eyes” meanwhile carmy’s like

[bucketof]

Season 5 !!

thought I’d make a list of things I want/predict to happen in the next season <3

michelin star! this might be the last season and I need them to have the treat of getting that star for all the right reasons and as a family (while carmy is still there).

leaning into sydcarmy’s friendship. I need them to hang outside of the restaurant. I need sydney to be more verbal about what carmy means to her, and why she wants to work with him in the first place. I need them to HUG. I want sydney to rest her head on his shoulder after a long day at the restaurant.

carmy and emmanuel meetup that would be a fun way to parallel the sydney/donna conversation, and also would be proof of sydney letting her walls down by finally letting him into her personal life.

carmy indulging in interests and creative outlets outside of cooking to heal the artist part of himself.

sydney having FUN. idc if it’s with her cousins or friends or going on a date. I need her to have some of that work/life balance.

marcus and richie to have fulfilling conclusions to their character arcs.

tina receiving outside acknowledgment for her skills, maybe in a review. I need her to know how amazing she is now.

more natalie content. I want to know where she is when it comes to her feelings about motherhood and her job at the bear. maybe have sydney hold sophie, I know it would be very awkward and cute.

PETE to stand up for himself. i will not stand for any more slander of my good man. would be nice if carmy takes his side too, “sugar’s boyfriend (pete?)” is crazy work & needs to be redeemed.

more sydrichie best friendism and them running the restaurant now as equals in the game.

jessrichie date. eva meeting jess?

the beef franchise led by ebra. I wanna see that actually go somewhere and for ebra to be proud of himself. also how do we not know his last name yet?

this is just while season 4 is still fresh in mind. might add to it later now that all we have is time.

[afrofairysblog]

Hot The Bear Take .

well, not really, in my opinion

The Bear needs to stop with the colorblind approach when it comes to the POC characters. It's like the show wants to have its cake and eat it too while also gatekeeping the people that made the recipe. The show wants to have the benefit of being called a diverse show and to give it some credit it was in the beginning / had the potential to grow and explore that with the characters that already exist within the show. However, the biases are showing, and the lack of progression, screen time, or just intention when it comes to the choices of these non-white characters are very LOUD!! Especially with Sydney, it feels like she gets the longest and shortest end of the stick when it comes to this treatment cause while she is one of the main characters of the show and gets the most screentime, internalized misogynoir peeks through or her character and actress is not fully protected from that by online discourse or more especially when it comes to Sydcarmy and the mere existence of it.

I'll have more thoughts about it with a Part 2 about this cause it's something that I've been thinking about while watching this show.