#I don’t NEED the show to give me Sydney/Carmen especially if doing it is going to take away screen time from other great things

[scenedenial]

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Sydney Adamu/Richie Jerimovich

i’ll sleep in the rain under your headlights -> 6,407 words “Wow, Richie, that’s so charming. You’re so fucking charming.” “Yeah, sweetheart, you could learn something.” Richie cups her chin in his palm, swipes drool off her mouth. Sydney’s chest squeezes. “Don’t call me sweetheart.” “Sweetheart. Are you gonna bitch at me or are you gonna suck my cock?” i can take you higher -> 11,278 words “You want one, right?” “A star? I mean, yeah. Who doesn’t?” “I think we could do it,” Richie says, pacing the kitchen. “But Carmy —” “Yo, fuck Carmy. I’m saying you and me could do it.” Richie is a different person now. Sydney makes him want to be a different person: a better person. and you’ll feel it all over -> 1,717 words If Sydney was going to have a baby it would not be with Richie Jerimovich. So why can’t she stop thinking about it? i wanna start over, i wanna be winning (slow show part 1) -> 7,427 words “I’m not going to Vegas,” Sydney says again. “I actually cannot think of anything worse than being in Vegas right now.” “Um, I can,” Nat says, doing her bra back up. “Being here. C’mon, it’ll be good for you. Change of scenery.” “I don’t want a change of —” “If you won’t do it for you,” Nat cuts her off, “then do it for me. I need this. Look at me. Look at these fucking sandbags attached to my body. We’ll make it an, I don’t know, anti-bachelorette. Okay?” Natalie is giving her these big begging eyes and Sydney can feel her resolve to soldier on as the world’s most resigned jilted-bride-turned-interim-executive-chef weaken and crack. “Fine. Fine. But you’re buying my drinks. And you better cancel the fucking strippers.” you know i dreamed about you, i missed you (slow show part 2) -> WIP Sydney is still at The Bear because leaving would be losing, would be admitting defeat, would be giving Carmy the easy out. You fucked up my whole life but, okay, let me be the bigger person, let me make your life easier, sure, fine, okay. He can’t do this and not lose anything. He can’t do this and go back to how things used to be. She won’t let him. you never use words you can’t afford -> 1,923 words Richie knows she would never admit it to herself, let alone to him, because it’s totally antithetical to the carefully constructed independent woman take no prisoners masterchef girlboss extraordinaire thing she has going on, but Sydney fucking lives to be told she’s doing a good job. She fucking gets off on it.

Carmy Berzatto/Richie Jerimovich

i put my hand over the stove to make sure i still feel it -> 5,240 words Richie shrugs, paws at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He feels suddenly very fragile, like unstable, like a bomb. Like he could start crying or puking or throwing punches. He remembers this feeling from childhood, like a dam somewhere inside him has broken and if he stands very still that maybe, maybe he can keep the churning contained. Since Mikey left it’s been worse. The pit in his stomach gnawing and expanding and spreading like sour poison into his mouth and fingertips. Mouth and hands that he puts on, in Carmy. Infecting him too. coming clean on a borrowed floor -> 1,796 words Carmen pretends like he’s so fucking complicated with the secretive little notebooks, the rippling muscles, the big sad blue eyes, but Richie knows him – Richie has always known him – so he gets a fist twisted into Carmy’s hair and presses his cheek into the tile and makes it easy. weren’t we the salt in the sea? -> WIP It’s the worst possible thing, especially here and now, walking in the ghost of Mikey’s footsteps, seeing him everywhere, feeling him everywhere. The prodigal baby brother, home at last, playing the role but in no way filling it. Carmy’s presence here only makes Mikey’s absence clearer. He knows it; everybody knows it. It’s all Carmy should be thinking about. It’s all any sane person would be thinking about. Instead, he watches a bead of sweat snake down the back of Richie’s neck as he pulls up disintegrating tile in the bathroom of the restaurant.

Other

i would shovel the worms that inhabit your brain: Carmy Berzatto/Sydney Adamu/Richie Jerimovich -> 10,845 words It’s not that Richie doesn’t like Sydney. She’s pretty and mean and she can clearly cook her ass off. She’s exactly the kind of woman he goes for: smart mouth, long hair, homicidal tendencies. She’s a little young, but other than that, yeah. Richie could like her. The issue is that Carmen acts ridiculous around her. Her first day, him trailing her around the kitchen like a dementedly friendly shadow: here’s the dish pit, here’s the spice rack, stay away from Richie, hardee-har-har. Whatever, Carmy, Richie thinks, it’s not like you had my dick in your throat twelve hours ago. Oh, wait.

[diningwiththeasquiths]

Jaccard - Part Two

Ended up writing more for this fic. Part One can be read here. 660 words of Carmy dealing with the fact he hired down-on-his-luck NYC Chef to come work for him at The Bear in a moment of madness. Still genfic at the moment, but feel free to squint and imagine whatever ship you like. :)

Instead of sleeping, Carmen fends off panic attack after panic attack throughout the night. Somewhere around 4 AM he starts wondering if his mind made it all up somehow, and Chef Frederick is still a safe 712 miles away from him in New York City.

At least he doesn’t throw up when he gets up in the morning, that’s something right?

He blinks when Frederick actually shows up, right on time and dour as ever. Okay, so not a figment of his imagination. Especially since everyone else can see him too. He introduces Frederick as the freshly hired Chef de Partie and tries not to cringe when offhandedly mentioning they’ve worked together before, but nobody asks any questions. In fact, everyone seems relieved the position got filled, and after saying hi to Frederick they move on to the order of the day. 

He’s giving Frederick a quick tour of the place—fighting the urge to wipe the nervous sweat from his forehead—when Sydney asks if they can talk. Nodding, he wraps up the tour and asks Marcus if he can grab Frederick his uniform, distracted by the dread in his stomach about what exactly it is Sydney wants to talk to him about. It sounded serious.

“Hey,” she greets him, when he finds her in the pantry. “So, congrats on the new hire. Really cool that you came to me first, to discuss that, that was really nice of you.”

Shit. Another fuck-up in a long line of fuck-ups when it comes to being a good business partner to Syd. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

He means it, but damn if it doesn’t feel like a weak apology. He absolutely owes her the whole explanation. Even if he’s actually not that sure what the fuck happened. 

“Look, he was Head Chef at the restaurant I worked at back in New York. I don’t know why I hired him yesterday, the guy made my life a living hell. I mean he really pushed me, but I think he definitely went too far, you know. But now he’s like, financially ruined or something. Something to do with coke, I don’t know. He says he’s clean now, so. Anyway, do you need me to fire him?”

Syd’s been staring at him during his rambling account of why certain things happened the way they did, looking increasingly less pissed and more concerned. 

“We don’t have to get rid of him, I don't think we should, not without good reason. We really need a new Chef. But, a heads-up would’ve been nice, that’s all I’m saying. You've gotta include me in things like that, please. Even if it’s just calling to say you panicked and hired some asshole because you’re too good for this world, okay?”

His mouth twitches into a grateful smile. “Heard, Chef.”

When he steps back into the kitchen, Frederick is getting acquainted with his responsibilities while Tina keeps a watchful eye. Carmen’s obviously not worried about Frederick’s abilities, except for his ability to follow orders instead of barking them at others. The queasy feeling in his stomach returns.

Richie and Fak walking past is a nice distraction, their loud arguing so nice and normal that it’s soothing to Carmen. He isn’t even hearing the words of their argument, just lets the heated dispute wash over him while he goes over the preparations for tonight.

They’re so invested in their petty disagreement that they aren’t paying attention to where they’re going; Richie especially seems to have forgotten all kitchen etiquette. Carmen watches them from the corner of his eye and catches Richie almost bumping into Frederick. 

“Watch it, Beanstalk,” Richie says. He doesn’t miss a beat, barely glancing at the new hire as he continues argueing with Fak, the two of them making their way to the backdoor. 

Tina shakes her head, muttering something to herself in Spanish. Only Carmen sees the way Frederick’s eyes narrow behind his glasses.

Fuck. That better not become yet another problem.

Part Three can be found here.

[rosewatergrapefruit]

objectively true / she has never been wrong