#richie jerimovich fanfic

[yeschefchallenge]

The first round of the seasonal The Bear writing challenge is here! And we are starting with the Fall Challenge.

You will find all neccessary information and rules here. Please read it carefully to avoid any confusion. The asks are always open to any questions, suggestions or comments in general 😊

🍂The running time/posting period for the Fall Challenge is October 18th to November 8th.(You can post your work anytime within these dates, and it will be re-blogged directly to Yes, Chef Challenge)

And the prompts for fall Yes, Chef challenge are:🍂the dialogue prompt: "Don't lie to me!"

🍂the trope prompt: Characters who are not together are mistaken for a couple.(the characters don't have to end up together or be involved romantically at all)

🍂 the very seasonal prompt: Preparing a meal containing pumpkin or apples.

🍂 the picture prompt:

[donatellawritings]

Rich to me is always the friends to lovers (everybody sees it but you two) it’s him yelling “behind” at everyone but sliding behind you with a hand on your hip “behind sweetheart” it’s you walking into the group of boys smoking outside & u bypass everyone to grab a smoke straight from his lips “thanks babe” it’s family having no empty chairs at the table so you sit on his lap while Syd & carm just stare. I think you’d bring my wish to life beautifully written. I need all the build up to the smut

can i just say that richie is definitely the type to be a jagoff to everyone, but never to you - everyone else knew how to work his last nerve, but you and your cutesy smile and bright eyes would make him all warm and fuzzy for sure

explicit sexual content ahead

it was no secret to anyone who worked at the restaurant (or had eyes) that you and richie had a ‘special’ kind of relationship. for starters, it wasn’t common for a hotheaded man, like richie jerimovich, to be so touchy and lovey-dovey with anyone. i mean, not even his ex-wife got to see that side of him often, and they shared a child. however there was something about you that just made richie feel as though he needed to be around you, protect you, handle you tenderly.

maybe it was because you were younger than him - fuck if he knew, all richie knew in his heart of hearts was that he had it bad for you.

things between you two started off gradually, “gotta get past you, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, the warm and calloused palm of his hand gently cradling the small of your lower back as he made his way past you, his tall frame easily reaching over you to grab ahold of a pot from the top cabinet.

you’d simply nod wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained forward in an effort to conceal the blush that rose to your cheeks.

after weeks of comfortability that increased between the two of you, you decided you’d test the waters. you’d watched carefully as he made his way out of the back door that led behind the building of the beef. quickly scanning over the not-so-busy environment of the restaurant, you walked away from the cash register, towards the back exit of the beef.

“i’ll be back in ten!” you called out, earning a mumble of approval from carmy and sydney who were entirely too engrossed in a conversation about expanding the menu.

the moment you’d exited the restaurant, the unforgiving cold winter chicago air bit at you, causing you to hiss as you quickly folded your arms tightly over your chest, your fitted ‘the beef’ t-shirt lifting a bit as you turned to find richie leaned against the brick wall.

he was so rugged and laid back, it drove you insane. his hoodie remained open, revealing the matching t-shirt that clung to his slim abdomen, one of his hands shoved in the pocket of his adidas track pants, while the other held a cigarette to his lips. richie didn’t notice your presence yet, too involved in a conversation with sweeps and marcus.

you’d decided it would be the perfect time to push the envelope, walking directly past marcus and sweeps as you approached richie, a flutter now swirling in your stomach as he raised his eyebrows at you, cigarette loosely held between his sharp teeth.

you two held eye contact for a beat, before you gently grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, before raising it to sit sit between the swell of your lips, taking a quick pull from the cigarette, “thanks babe,” you exhaled with a sweet close-mouthed smile.

all richie could do was swallow thickly, nodding to himself before he returned his attention back to the conversation at hand, softly swatting the side of your thigh when he decided that it was time for you to return the cigarette.

it was then, that things started to reach a whole new level of touchiness and couple-like actions between you and richie.

today was family. your second-most favorite day of the week, aside from payday. you were a bit late to the function, courtesy of your hair appointment, walking into the main room of the restaurant, instantly being greeted with a chorus of differing ‘hello’s’.

“hi, m’sorry for being late, my hair girl was late!” you rushed to explain, shrugging off richie’s your zip-up hoodie as you glanced around the room, seeing that all seats were occupied, “oh.”

sydney’s eyes widened as she shared the same realization, “fuck, uh, maybe we can get you an extra seat from the office, i-” she began, taking a bit too long, leaving richie no choice, but to come up with a solution of his own.

“s’nothing syd, she can sit with me,” richie spoke with a careless shrug, his mouth full of pasta as he looked up at you, swallowing his food before continuing, “c’mon, sweetheart.”

you obliged, your lips suddenly running dry as you walked towards richie’s seat, softly grabbing his outstretched hand as he gently guided your hips to sit comfortably against his.

you slightly shifted your hips, sending a shock to your clit as his bulge deliciously sat flush against your ass, “thanks, richie,” you muttered, focusing your gaze on the pasta dish that sat before you.

richie leaned back into his seat, the suddenly awkward silence of the dining room now becoming a bit too apparent to him. shaking his head, richie kept one of his arms loosely hung around you, before clearing his throat.

“yo, i don’t know why the fuck everyone is being fuckin’ quiet,” he huffed, his eyes now landing on carmy and sydney, before he sighed, “cousin, just say what the fuck you’re grateful for already!”

it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their normal conversations, about twenty minutes passing, before richie decided to lean in close to you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“m’ready to get the fuck outta here.”

and that’s how you ended up in the driver’s seat of richie’s car, his seat fully reclined back, one hand gripping the back of your neck, while the other guided your hips to bounce hard against his.

“ah, fuck - y’gonna make me cum in you if you keep fuckin’ me like that, sweetheart,” richie groaned, moving the hand that guided your hips to your back, pushing you further into his chest as he fucked up into you.

your face was in his neck, throaty moans and gasps leaving your lips as you sloppily kissed and sucked at the skin of his neck, the sound of your hips slapping into each other mixed with the squelch and slurp of your wet pussy taking his length leaving you a needy mess.

you were so close to reaching your peak, your pulsing hole clenching around richie’s dick as his thrust remained forceful and rough, “i can fuckin’ feel you around me, baby, y’want me to make you cum, yeah,” he chuckled, leaning his head against the headrest as he brought his hand to your hip, grinding your hips flush against his in circular motions.

“fuck, richie,” was all you could mewl through your gritted teeth, your stomach tight as your clit rubbed against the wet skin of his pelvis.

“keep ridin’ me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pecking your flexed temple as he forced your hips deeps against his, “just keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.”

yeah, your relationship with your coworker was far from orthodox, but neither of you seemed to get enough of it. nor, did you want to.

[eufezco]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Richie, Eva's here —. You whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

—We won't take long.

—We won't?

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

@pear-1206 <333

[softly-sirius]

Would you love me if I was a worm? (gn)

Currently on Shift: Carmen, Richie, Sydney, Marcus, Fak, Sweeps, Tina, Luca

Carmen

“...What?”

Would check your temperature

Make you drink a whole glass of water and sit you on the sofa

When he’s confirmed that you are not ill or dehydrated he’d be concerned

Wonders all night if he isn’t showing you enough love

Brings you flowers the next day and gummy worms too 

Richie

“Fuck No!”

Asks if you would love him as a worm

When you say yes he calls you gross

Why’s he smiling though

Sydney

“I can’t kiss a worm though?”

She probably ate a worm as a kid on a dare once

Now cannot stand them

Hates the texture, but would try to get over it for you

Marcus

“Of course I’d love you, I’d take good care of you,”

Would make you a little home, 

Keep you in the nicest tank

Decorate it seasonally

Would take you on walks sitting on his shoulder

Would knit you a blanket :’)

Fak

“Fuck yes, can I be a worm too?”

He’s whipped,

As long as you two can be together? He’s down

Besides, the life of a worm, coiling himself around your matching worm body? 

Sounds pretty good to him

Sweeps

“What’s the scenario here?”

Asks you so many questions

Why you were turned into a worm?

When did you meet?

Is it a Princess and the Frog scenario?

Can he turn you back?

Comes up with a whole story of how he would save you from your worm curse

Tina

“What is wrong with you?

Will not even entertain the thought

Even if you ask again she’s not answering

Starts mumbling under her breath in Spanish

Not caring if you can understand her or not

Continues her prep to ignore you

Luca

“You’d be a cute worm”

Would kiss your forehead (kinda condescendingly)

You notice he’s avoiding the question

You open your mouth to ask him again

He puts a pastry in your mouth 

His distraction is a success this time

[buzzcutlip]

Obsession Richie Jerimovich x Fem!Reader Explicit 400+ words A/N: This is not very happy tbh. It somehow reflects a strange mental place that I'm currently in. But - read it as lightly as you need - that's why it's so short :)

“I can only think about you. It’s fucking annoying.”

Richie’s breath is hot on your cheek, on the sensitive skin of your neck. He has you pinned against the stainless steel counter, right opposite the stove. Everything smells of cleaning products, and you’re worried about the fingerprints you’re leaving on the surface, marring the crew’s hard work. No one loves the evening cleanup. Or—maybe Carmen does.

The weight of the world lies upon your shoulders, and you’re crumbling. Your life seems like a departing train that you can’t jump on. Even your friends know something’s up, and you’d rather not see them than lie to them.

But Richie’s right here; he’s not leaving. At least not this minute. Your fingers scramble to grip his biceps, his shoulders. The cotton of his raglan t-shirt is soft and washed out. You like this piece on him. It makes his shoulders look extra wide, hips more narrow in comparison.

Richie’s hands find their way under your shirt, rough pads scratching the soft skin of your torso, adding to your want.

“Not—not here,” you say hurriedly. Someone’s gonna fucking touch something and set the place on fire or something.

You quickly dismiss fucking in the bathroom, thank you very much. Just. Gross. The place where you end up is by the lockers.

After getting your jeans out of the way, Richie takes his cock and presses the head against the seam of your pussy, where the wetness gathers. Then he slides it gently through the slick, watching it with wordless rapture, unblinking. He rubs against your clit too, making you twitch. Weird. You always thought that the moment Richie got access to a pussy, he would slam in right away. But he doesn’t. He kisses you some more, less dirty than before—slowly and thoroughly, a large hand holding your jaw in place.

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tight. The position is uncomfortable, Richie’s snappy thrusts jolting you against the metal lock that keeps digging into your back. You could have invited him to your place, but you’re embarrassed about the mess there. Tidying up has been at the bottom of your to-do list for weeks.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” Richie mumbles brokenly into your hairline while helping you stay upright. The words strike you like lightning—sudden, strong, and electrifying. A broken sob tears out of your throat, and Richie must feel how your pussy clenches. You don’t know what you’re doing to him, so you turn your face into his arm, biting on his clothed bicep to ground yourself, to silence yourself, leaving a wet ring on the fabric.

“I’m obsessed with you.” Should it unsettle you?

[madwomansapologist]

hiii can we get the “mean/cold to everyone but you” trope w Richie like him only getting you coffee among the bear crew, always sitting next to you during family, etc and everyone noticing esp Tina and making fun of him lmao

being richie jerimovich exception

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Richie Jerimovich | AO3

synopsis: It's hard to deal with Richie. He can be rude, mean and extremely irritating. But not to you. Never to you.

warnings: none.

note: it's funny how this fandom agress that whatever richie does in a romantic situation will be content for a tina's roast session. thanks for your request dear, hope you enjoy it!

• Subtle people would say that Richie is a difficult person. Honest people would say he's an asshole. Truth is relative, because you would say Richie is your honey bun. Dear in public, handsome in private. Pookie when you want to annoy him.

•It turns out that unlike most other people, whether subtle or sincere, you have one thing that sets you apart: Richie loves you. So much it hurts him. And while Richie's natural reaction to grief is to take it out on the culprit, but he wouldn't do that to you. Because that pain is different than anything he ever felt.

• It's a ache. It's a burning that dominates his body. Richie suffers for you, cries for you, spends sleepless nights thinking of you: it's still love. That's how love works. People get tired of spending the night wondering what will happen. Cry in fear of being rejected. Feel their heart break after a fight. But people also exhaust yourself by talking all night instead of sleeping. Feel their stomach flutter from laughing so hard. Cry with emotion.

• Richie doesn't care if he's not normally like this. If normally he doesn't behave so meekly. He loves you, and he knows he needs to show it. Richie has already lost so much, he won't lose you too because of his own pride.

• Richie will spend minutes yelling at Carmy, but as soon as you appear, his face changes. It doesn't matter if he scolded Marcus for having already explained how to do something, if you ask him he'll answer you with a smile on his face. Your tiredness is answered with a cup of coffee. He knows how you prefer it.

• Whether it's you hugging him at the end of the shift, sitting next to him during meetings, Richie's hand stroking your hair: he makes sure to be always as close as he can. It's nice to feel your body heat. And to feel that you want to be close to him too.

• Tina is the first to try to mock him. He always rolls his eyes and turns away without arguing. Richie won't act like it's embarrassing him to show you he loves you. He would never make you think that loving you is a humiliating task.

• After all, everyone needs to have a soft spot. And Richie found his.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[garbinge]

Thanksgiving

Richie Jerimovich x Platonic!Reader mention of Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge (15/30)

A/N: Patiently waiting for June 27th lololol

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst, shit talking, cursing (lots), family problems, daddy issues. Mentions of someone losing their life from alcoholism, homelessness, hitting rock bottom.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak @kmc1989 Other fics from this universe

The knock on your door wasn’t what you were expecting at 11:30 on Thanksgiving night. You weren’t exactly dressed for company in your pajamas, but the knocking was insistent so there wasn’t a way to ignore it or have time to change. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” You called out as you made your way to the entrance and opened the door. 

“You don’t look through the peephole before answering the door? I coulda been a murderer.” Richie was standing at the door of your apartment in one of his few nice sweaters with a tote bag in his hand. 

“You here to murder me, Rich?” You stepped back and welcomed him in with a sway of your arm. 

“I’m here to feed you, you weren’t at Thanksgiving.” He didn’t waste any time from when you invited him in and was already in the kitchen placing the bag down. “Why weren’t you at Thanksgiving?” 

You took a deep breath and let out a harsh exhale, this wasn’t something you were expecting to talk about at this moment. 

“Um, I’ve had my fair share of unstable parents lately.” You brought your hand up to your head as the past few conversations with your father flashed through your mind quickly. 

Richie stopped pulling things out of the tote bag and looked up at you. “Your dad call you again? What was he lookin’ for before? Baseball cards right? You should hook ‘em up with the Faks, they got that baseball card scheme runnin’, the stupid fucks.” He let out a laugh and continued to pull stuff out of the bag. 

Any other day, you’d join him in the banter. Any other day you’d enjoy it, but today wasn’t any other day. 

“Richie.” You said his name so solemnly and he looked up at you immediately. It broke you seeing his face drop from a smile to a straight mouthed expression but you didn’t have much left in you to take it back. The next best thing you could do was explain. “Uh, Thanksgiving is just–” you paused for a minute as your brain searched for the right word. “It’s a day for me, alright.” You felt yourself get tense, the emotions that you didn’t want to think about, feel, or simply acknowledge were rising to the surface and it was making you angry. Your eyes closed out of instinct, an exercise to push the rage back down, and after taking a deep breath you re-opened them and stared at Richie. 

Richie’s face didn’t change, it was still as heartbreaking as before even though it would have been described as neutral. 

“How was Donna tonight?” You changed the topic quick and moved over to look at what Richie had in the tupperware containers. 

“How do you think?” It was said like the conversation prior didn’t even happen. 

“Yea, I figured.” You let out a snort. “She make the cannolis?” Your eyes were scanning around the containers looking for them. 

“They’re somewhere in here, let me start putting this shit away and I’ll find ‘em.” He was turning around to face your fridge now. As the door to the cooler swung open, he froze. It went unnoticed by you as you continued to bury your emotions down so you didn’t start a misguided fight. 

“What the fuck is this?” Richie was pointing inside the fridge and then at the container on the stovetop. Despite the cursing, he didn’t seem mad or pointed, just confused. 

As your eyebrows raised and you turned around to see what he was talking about, you answered quickly. 

“Oh, Carmy dropped off food for me last night.” 

“Carmy knew you weren’t coming to Thanksgiving?” Now that statement held a little hurt in it, but you acted like you couldn’t tell. 

“Carmy knows I never come to Thanksgiving.” You added a shrug to the statement to help make it seem nonchalant. 

“I didn’t know you never come to Thanksgiving.” It was mumbled, like he was embarrassed. 

“Why would you?” Another shrug left your shoulders and you moved to help him move a couple things in the fridge. 

“Because I notice when you’re around.” It was such a soft statement that any other time it would have melted you to your core. But you could tell for him it was also like he was defending himself behind this sweet statement. 

The bantering part of you wanted to retort that statement with a ‘clearly not.’ since you hadn’t been at a Berzatto Thanksgiving in over a decade, but with how Richie was talking and where you were at mentally tonight, you knew it wasn’t going to be good for either of you. 

“It’s the first year that we’re–,” you stopped yourself at that statement because you didn’t know what you were and this was not the night you wanted to take the time to define it. “It’s the first year you’d actually notice, it’s not a big deal.” 

“I guess I just missed you, and feel like something important is happening and everyone knows but me.” 

Shocked would have been an understatement. Did Richie Jerimovich just express how he was feeling? 

“You been reading that book?” You frowned, a smile forming slightly on your face as you stared up him. 

“Fuck you, yea I been reading that book.” The self-consciousness flooding his senses at your look. 

“Everyone doesn’t know. Just Carmy.” If you knew the weight the last two words would leave on him, you probably wouldn’t have said them but it was too late, the words were already hanging in the air. 

“And the reason Carmy knows is because he’s known since 10 years or whatever ago.” You hoped that would offer up enough explanation to hold him over a bit. 

“So what did Carmy bring you?” Richie was moving past you to look into the fridge again. 

“Not cannolis.” Moving in the opposite direction you started searching in the bag. 

“I brought too much shit, your fridge is stocked, shit’s gonna go bad.” 

“What did Pete bring this time?” The clicking of the to-go container muffled your question but it was worth it as you pulled out one of 5 cannolis. 

“A fuckin’ pie.” Annoyance was dripping off his tone. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. 

Your head snapped at him, your mouth full of pistachio cannoli, surprise written all over your face. 

“That sounds good.” 

“It was fuckin’ rhubarb.” Richie spit out, his arms still crossed and eyebrows frowning as he remembered the pie. 

“God, who the fuck likes rhubarb.” Your face twisted in disgust, the shock fully faded now as the realization that Pete didn’t succeed yet again in his gracious hosting gifts this holiday. 

“That’s what I fuckin’ said. It’s a god damn vegetable.” 

You let out a laugh at that as you took another bite of the cannoli. 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for him.” Now you were just making conversation. 

“Never was for you.” Richie shrugged as he recalled what rotation of items you’d bring to different Berzatto gatherings. “Hot chocolate, olive oil, those toffee chocolate things, one year you brought those stuffed olives.” 

The shock came back and became very apparent on your face again as you turned to look at him for an answer.

“I told you I notice.” His hands lifted in innocence. “Plus your hot chocolate is the fuckin’ best, hard to forget.” 

“There’s some in the pot.” You pointed to the stove but then went to grab two mugs. 

The two of you melted into a comfortable silence, the tapping of your wooden spoon as it stirred in the pot of hot chocolate, the metal spoons clinking in the mugs as the liquid poured into them. The TV was at a lulled volume in the background, the slight sounds of Steve Harvey’s voice as family feud reruns ran. 

As the two of you were on the last legs of your hot chocolate, Richie spoke up. 

“You watchin’ The Game Show Network?” There was humor behind the question mixed with true curiosity as he heard the old school game show mumbling in the background.

“It’s relaxing.” There was no defense in your voice as you said it, mug close to your face. “And it makes me laugh.” 

“Relaxing and laughing on Thanksgiving. Not sure I’ve seen that combination in a while.” He was opening your dishwasher to drop the empty mug into it. 

You raised your eyebrows at that knowing exactly what he meant and knowing it was 100% true. 

“Hey, you wanna go with me somewhere?” Your eyes were looking at the time and seeing it was just a little past 12. 

“Where? Everywhere’s closed?” 

You had already moved to the other side of oyur kitchen island and were grabbing your coat off the back of the bar chair. 

“Can you pack up like 6 containers from Carmy and like 3 of the containers you brought?” It took Richie a minute to understand what you said since you had been bent down slipping into your shoes. 

Although confused, Richie did what you said, making sure the cannolis weren’t any of the containers he packed in the tote he had brought over. As you re-entered the kitchen, you peaked in the bag and nodded. Quickly you pulled out a ziploc and took one of the cannolis out and dropped it into the plastic before carefully placing it in the tote. 

As the two of you hit the Chicago streets, there were a couple flurries of snow falling, nothing substantial that would stick, but it set a tone. Your one arm was holding onto the the tote back as your hand hid from the cold in your jacket pocket but your other hand moved to wrap around Richie’s arm. 

The gesture made him get out of his head and turn to look down at you. 

“You wanna tell me where we’re going?” He brought his arm in tighter against yours. 

“You’ll see.” 

It was all you were willing to give up as you began walking towards Millenium Park. 

“Millenium Park after 12AM, sounds like a great time.” Richie was taking his free hand and reaching to grab his pack of cigarettes. 

“It actually is.” You spoke with such conviction that it actually shocked Richie. You were so upset earlier and now you were speaking with a hint of hope in your voice. 

The music you started to hear as you approached the infamous Chicago Bean filled your face with a smile. You lived in Chicago most of your life so hitting tourist spots like this wasn’t exactly a common occurrence but this was a tradition you kept for yourself and now were bringing Richie into it. 

There was a street performer about 20 feet from them, the violin was loud and the acoustics were incredible as it echoed off the landmarks around them. The smile on the man’s face as he played was enough to tell a million stories. He was having fun, despite the cold, the snow, the fact it was a holiday and he was here performing, he was genuinely enjoying this. 

“That’s Morgan.” You whispered to Richie like it was a high class secret. “He’s incredible.” You brought your other hand up to rest on his arm that was still holding your other one. 

“He brings a crowd.” He was looking around at all the people that were standing around him. 

“There’s more people every year.” You said it like a proud parent. 

“Every year?” Richie asked, not taking his eyes off the performance. 

There were a few minutes of silence as you debated how you were going to answer his question. 

“I come here every year. One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now. The crowd used to be like 5 people and look now.” 

“That what the food is for?” Richie was smiling now understanding what the girl was up to. 

Just as he spoke the words, the violin sound was cut and the crowd began clapping loudly. “I’m going to take a short break, be back in 5 minutes.” He waved and placed his violin down to take a sip of the water jug he had next to his stuff. 

You approached the man and before you could even say anything, he was bellowing a deep hello to you. Following his hug he looked down at the food and shook his head. “You’re always over feeding me, kid.” 

“Who doesn’t like leftovers?” You crossed your arms and stepped back slightly bumping into Richie. “Oh, Morgan this is Richie.” You grabbed Richie’s arm and stepped behind him slightly to introduce him. 

“Nice to meet you, Richie.” Morgan spoke curiously.

‘Back at you man, you got a real talent, truly incredible.” He turned on that typical Richie charm.

“You humble me, dude. I’m just a Chicago kid tryna enjoy the holiday.” He waved him off. 

“Did you get to see Sandra this year?” You spoke with hope in your tone. 

“She had me over earlier today.” Morgan was grinning. 

“Morgan, that's incredible! From just coffee last year, to thanksgiving this year!” You leaned forward and tapped his arm. “Guess you don’t need my food.” You teased him and went to jokingly grab the bag back but not before he leaned down and blocked you from it. 

“Hey now, this is top of the line fine dining food you give me.” 

“And I packed a homemade cannoli in there for you.” Richie was smirking at the whole interaction. 

“See the man packed little ol me a homemade cannoli, don’t strip a man of a thanksgiving cannoli, now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” With a step back you wrapped your arm around Richie’s. 

Morgan looked down at it and back at the both of you with a wider smile now. “Hope y’all had a lovely Thanksgiving.” 

“Think it just got a lot better.” Richie nodded at him and then looked down at you. 

“We’ll let you finish your break, but I’m so happy about Sandra, seriously Morgan, that’s great news.” You went to give him one last hug. 

“Happy to see you out here with someone this year, seems like you finally found what you were looking for.” He was talking at a volume only you could hear as he hugged you. 

“Funny enough, Morgan. I wasn’t looking for it at all. Just happened.” You whispered back.

“The best things do.” He was clearly talking about your friendship, how it came to be out of a time where you weren’t expecting or looking for it all. “Happy Thanksgiving, kid.” 

As you moved back into the crowd with Richie, he took the opportunity to link your arms back together as he asked you a question. 

“Whose Sandra?”

“The woman who has his wife’s heart.” 

The sentence was so heavy, the more thought you put into it, every scenario that it could have been felt more heartbreaking than the last. 

His head snapped to you and you nodded. “His wife died from liver disease and she was an organ donor, so her heart went to Sandra. He’d been trying to find her for a while, finally did, at first they wrote letters, last year she met him for coffee, and this year she had him over.” 

“That’s incredible.” Richie was in shock. “Why Thanksgiving? Or just because?” He was genuinely invested in the story now. 

“Thanksgiving is the night his wife lost her life, but the night Sandra kept hers.” You explained the situation to Richie. 

“Holy shit.” He brought his hand up to his face and wiped it down as the weight of it all sunk in. 

“What’s he doing out here?” Richie frowned trying to piece that part of it together. 

“He kind of lost everything when he lost his wife, his place, his job, his will to live I’d even go far enough to say.” You thought back on the earlier years of meeting Morgan, he was your father’s age, and clearly had experienced loss in his life. That was what bonded you, because while you were going through the biggest loss of your short teenage life at that time, you came across someone who knew what losing someone to alcohol felt like. 

“That’s rough.” Richie nodded and before the conversation could really continue, the sound of the music filled the space again and the crowd moved in tighter. Richie and you stayed near the back and despite everything being fine between you two, you felt the tension from earlier coming back. 

It was hard for you to talk about it, but Morgan’s words about finding what you were looking for were in your head and it made you realize, maybe you could open up a bit about it all. 

One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now. 

That one thanksgiving, you were out here looking for your Dad, your drunken dad, you later found him at the bus stop across from The Beef. He didn’t see you, but you saw him, fully packed, despite his inebriated state, he had thought through leaving enough that he packed bags. 

With a sigh, your arm squeezed tighter around Richie’s and you said 5 words that you hoped would be enough to explain to Richie why today was so hard for you without having to dive into so much detail. 

“My dad left on Thanksgiving.” 

[thefanficmonster]

Richie x reader relationship hcs pleaseeee

Certainly, darling! Hope you enjoy 💕

Pairing: Richie Jerimovich x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: FLUFF, Humor

It takes a lot of patience having to put up with this man

Or it used to

He's put together now

He wears suits

And he can do way more than just respect

So you start way more than just tolerating him

By now that's all just semantics

All is null and void when you see how far your relationship has come

From barely being able to be in the same room without bickering

To being a couple head over heels for one another

His love language is quality time well spent and gifts given at random

Yours is acts of service and words of affirmation

The latter you've adapted due to his inherent need to be told what he pretends he already knows

That he's doing well, that he's doing enough

That he's an exceptional employee of The Bear, carrying on his best friend's legacy

That he's an amazing father whose daughter loves very much

Speaking of Eva

She had her reservations about you, but not for the reasons you may think

She's just got her dad's protective attitude and all thorns she exhibited toward you were all in favor of letting you know that if you hurt Richie...

You'll be reprimanded accordingly

But that too is history now

You and Eva have become inseparable

The three of you would sit around the dining room table, working on the homework Eva needed help with

Truthfully though, you'd spend most of the time doing nothing more than singing along to Taylor Swift songs

The singer's discography has become the official soundtrack to your and Richie's relationship

Her songs are blasting through the apartment and in the car practically 24/7

It took you so long to come to terms with the fact that you and Richie have so much in common

Now that you've accepted it, it's made you an unstoppable power couple

It's insane how you went from tolerance, to acceptance, to respect, to a crush in denial to a movie worthy love story

A very low budget rom-com at best

But still a movie none the less

[neonovember]

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon &lt;3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth. 

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets. 

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion. 

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face. 

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight. 

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing. 

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall. 

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies 

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of  ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done. 

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes 

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to” 

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this. 

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands". 

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!” 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen. 

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet,  confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as  you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above. 

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone” 

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you. 

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

[donatellawritings]

cherry - subtle body - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap

song: baby boy by childish gambino

4:15AM. Richie was the first to wake up, following the fast-paced events that had taken place the night prior - and he would be lying, if he said that he didn’t love it. The shrill of his alarm was enough to cause you to stir, but not enough to wake you as he carefully reached over you, silencing the alarm before taking a moment to soak it all in, to soak you all in. He gently pulled his arm out from under you, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair, before standing from the bed. Richie didn’t want to leave you, but he had to - he’d promised his daughter, the absolute apple of his eye, that he would take her to school, before he had to leave for work.

Running his calloused hand over his face with a huff, Richie collected his slacks from the floor, sliding them up his legs, without buttoning them. Picking up his dress-shirt that laid beside your vanity, Richie looked over to you, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest as you peacefully slept. It took everything in Richie to not crawl back into your bed and hold you in his arms, yet he remained resilient as he buttoned the cuffs of the shirt, proceeding to button up the shirt.

Smoothing a hand down against his short hair, Richie scanned the environment of your room, should he write you a note? Deciding against it, Richie walked towards the bed, leaning down to kiss the side of your head, before grabbing his phone.

Now making his way to your bathroom, Richie opened the cabinet underneath the sink, searching for a spare toothbrush, toothpaste, anything he could use to freshen his breath. Coming up unsuccessful, Richie pulled at the mirror that was mounted on your wall, the prescribed-pill bottle that sat on one of the shelves catching his eye. Sure, he was prescribed medication for the demons that dwelled in his mind, but knowing that they plagued your mind too caused an ache in his chest. Shaking away the thoughts, Richie’s eyes fell on the travel-sized bottle of mouth wash that sat on the center shelf.

Thank fuckin’ god.

Using over half of the bottle, Richie poured the blue liquid into his mouth, throwing his head back with a gargle, before spitting into the sink, briefly allowing a quick stream of water to wash away the remaining mouthwash that lingered against the porcelain bowl of the sink. Closing the mirror, Richie took a quick glance over of himself.

Craning his neck to the side, Richie exhaled through his nose as he looked at the three scratches that tainted his skin, courtesy of your nails, “fuck,” he groaned, running his hand over the wounds before exiting the bathroom.

Making his way to the living room, Richie snatched his leather jacket off of the arm of your sofa, sliding his arms through in a fluid motion, before he exited your apartment, making sure to shut your front door softly, not wanting to wake you.

Once in the hallway, Richie unlocked his phone, typing a quick text message to you as he awaited the elevator.

taking the kid 2 school. call me when ur awake

dinner on me tonight

-

Richie loved spending time with his little girl, the mere two hours they’d spend together whenever he’d take her to school, never truly fulfilling him. It always seemed as though he’d have little Eva singing her heart out one minute, then, pulling up alone to the back parking lot of The Bear. It was now 7:32AM as Richie’s phone rang.

The sight of your name flashing across his phone screen caused Richie to clear his throat, before accepting the call and bringing the phone to his ear, “Hi, sweetheart,” he speaks, a hint of excitement now apparent in his usually stoic voice.

You turnover, the sound of your shuffling now heard over the other side of the phone, “Hi,” you rasped, your voice laced with sleep, “I miss you,” you added.

Fuck, Richie leaned his head back against the headrest of his driver’s seat as his eyes closed for a second, he was so fucking into you, it hurt.

“I know, pretty girl, I, uh,” he forced out a breathy chuckle, “I miss you too.”

“You owe me dinner,”you teased playfully, your laughing echoing through the phone, “and a proper sleepover.”

Richie rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, a goofy grin playing on his lips, “I owe you a new mouthwash too,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you questioned, “then I’ll have to get an extra toothbrush for when you stay the night,” you commented, more so to yourself than to Richie.

Richie stilled, a silence falling over his car as he took a breath. You made him nervous - I mean, fuck, it usually took months, for some even years, to witness Richie’s softer side, yet here you were, knowing him for not even a fraction of that, making him blush and plan cutesy sleepover dates. Shit, the last time Richie had his own toothbrush for overnight stays was at his ex-wife’s house.

Richie remained caught up in his trailing thoughts, until your voice cut in, “You still there?” You asked, your voice now pitched higher with worry.

“Shit, sorry baby, uh yeah,” Richie blinked, “yeah, we should definitely have an extra toothbrush - I’ll have to get you one at my place,” he breathed out.

Noticing your silence, Richie decided to take hold of the conversation, “Listen, m’gonna come get you around six? I got us a table at this fuckin’ place downtown, it’s uh, real fancy.”

The sound of the faucet running can be heard on your end, followed by soft brushing, “Y’brushing your teeth over there?” Richie asked.

“Yes, I have class at eleven,” you answered, your words muffled from the toothbrush that sat between your teeth.

“Shit, which class is that?” Richie asked.

Water can be heard hitting the sink, “Film, thankfully,” you sighed, “it’s my favorite.”

Richie knew you were a film major, you wanted to write scripts. If you weren’t on the phone with him, or doing assignments, you were usually studying watching a movie. You’d watched movies intently, paying attention to every minor detail, always anxious to see if it would be referenced in the future.

It made Richie proud, knowing that his girl was going for her education, and was excited to use it. You’d be graduating from college in a few months, Richie grew excited at the thought of you donning your degree, looking beautiful as ever in a cap and gown.

“I know, baby,” he muttered, “you’re so fuckin’ smart.”

“Thank you, Richie,” you blushed, “um, I really enjoyed last night, by the way,” you added, the screech of the faucet stopping filling Richie’s ears.

The scratches on Richie’s neck grew warm, a smirk tugging at his lips as he recalled the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, “So did I- I got the scratches on my neck to prove it,” he teased, chuckling as you gasped.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-” you began to panic.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he spoke, “it’ll give the guys something to talk about at work.”

Richie was being a cocky fuck. He loved that he could indirectly show you off with the scratches on his neck, wanting to hold off on introducing you to his family coworkers, until things were steady between you two.

“Alright, well I gotta start heading in, okay?” He sighed.

“Okay, have a good day at work, Richie,” you beamed.

“Thank you, sweetheart - I’ll see you at six.”

“See you at six.”

-

Richie made his way through the main dining room and kitchen, mentally taking note of any upstanding flaws that needed to be corrected prior to opening. This usually took him anywhere around one to two hours, depending on how meticulous he’d decided he needed to be that day.

“Richie, good morning, papa!” Tina greeted, her signature wide grin on full display as she approached Richie.

“What’s goin’ on, T?” He responded, pulling the woman in for a kiss to her cheek.

Tina cocked her head to the side, “Woah, what the fuck happened to you,” she questioned, reached her hand towards the scratches that peeked out from beneath the collar of Richie’s dress-shirt.

Richie smiled, softly pulling away from Tina, “S’nothing, uh, how was the drive here this morning,” he attempted to deflect, refusing to make eye contact with the woman in front of him.

Tina scoffed, “I’ll tell you all about my drive in, when you tell me about those marks on your neck.”

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets, with a huff. Richie considered Tina to be a confidant of his, the older woman being one of the closes people to him, due to their years of friendship and history.

So, naturally, he caved, “Just a girl I’ve been seeing recently, y’know?”

Tina nodded, her eyebrows raised, “Ah, and what is this “girl” like?”

“She’s beautiful, I mean, T, she’s a fuckin’ knockout,” Richie rambled, “she’s Puerto Rican-”

Tina gasped, nudging Richie’s arm, “A latina? Look at you, Richie.”

“Yeah, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, she’s good, y’know?” Richie praised, shyly bringing his gaze to Tina as she cradled the side of his face.

“I’m happy for you.”

-

The hours of the day came and went as Richie found himself leaned against the hood of his car as he waited for you to come downstairs. He was thankful to have gotten out of work early enough to make a quick pit stop at his apartment to shower and brush his teeth, not wanting to take you out without being the most pristine and prepared version of himself. He’d even made sure to bring a small bag of clothes and toiletries in the backseat of his car as a ‘just in-case’.

There was a part of Richie that ached to know how you did, to know how you’d manage to seem as though you had it all together, despite being in the same boat as him. Richie wouldn’t be the one to bring up your inner workings, he’d figured that hed let you come to him, that is, if you ever wanted to even tell him about your internal battles.

The hum of his phone vibrating in his pocket jolted Richie out of his thoughts, “shit,” he muttered.

sorry for taking so long … wanna come up?

Richie nodded to himself, a sigh leaving himelf as he opened the door to the backseat of his car, grabbing ahold of the drawstring bag that sat neatly on the seat. Closing the car door with a huff, Richie add his way into your apartment building, his stomach churning with concern - something was off with you.

You’d been beaming about this date, since Richie first brought it up. Shit, it had been the last thing you’d spoken about, before you fell asleep on his chest last night. I mean, yeah, Richie shared the same sentiment, he’d felt like a teenager going on his first date, again, but it brought a warmth to his chest knowing and seeing first-hand how excited you were.

Now in the main lobby of the building, Richie impatiently slapped the elevator button, blankly staring at the elevator door that had yet to open.

Richie got lost in his own mind as he wracked through what changed within you. Was the age-difference too much for you? Were you having cold feet? Were you going to end things? Did you not want to be seen with him? Fuck, it had only been about two minutes since Richie read your text and he was already driving himself insane with assumptions and differing conclusions. So much so, that Richie didn’t even realize that he’d subconsciously already made his way into the elevator and to the fourth floor.

Richie rushed to your door, softly knocking his knuckles against the heavy door, “S’me, sweetheart!” He called out sweetly.

You were quick to open the door, Richie’s heart sinking to his ankles as you answered the door with tear-soaked eyes, “hi Richie,” you squeaked, your voice broken.

��Hey, hey -what’s going on?” He asked, following you inside your apartment.

You were dressed for tonight’s occasion: a skintight black dress that barely reached your mid-thigh, black pantyhose concealing the skin of your legs. Your hair was curled, flowing down your back loosely as you stood barefoot, turning to face Richie.

You let out a shaky breath of frustration as you walked into Richie’s chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Richie knew that he sucked when it came to situations like this. You see, he’d become accustomed to letting his frustrations out with a string of profanities, and a cigarette, and maybe even a fistfight. So, he settled with doing the one thing that he knew he couldn’t manage to fuck up: hold you in his arms and simply listen to what you had to say.

You tried to speak, your words jumbled as you spoke directly into Richie’s chest. Slightly leaning away from you, Richie craned his neck down to get a good look at you, “I can’t hear you when you’re talking straight into me, baby.”

You pulled yourself out of Richie’s arms with a roll of your eyes, you hated letting your guard down, “I just don’t know what I am fucking doing, I mean,” you laughed, “you are a fucking father, y-you were married, and me? I have no idea what the fuck I am doing.”

Richie remained silent, he could tell that this was something that weighed heavy on your conscience. So, he decided to take it all in, only jump in when he felt he had to.

And you continued.

“I’m twenty-three years old, Richie, a-and what if this is fun for you in the beginning, but then you realize that you should be with someone who has it together?” You questioned aloud.

Richie remained silent.

And you continued.

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t even go one day without taking these fucking pills, isn’t that so fucked?” You shake your head with a smile of disbelief.

Richie remained silent - this was killing him.

And so, you continued.

“I just- you should go home, okay? Y-you can go home and forget about me, forget about this, and you can be with someone who can give you what you need-”

Richie could no longer remain silent, so he laughed.

“You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” he spat with a shrug of his shoulders.

Richie could feel the frustration quickly boiling into anger, a frustrated anger that burned in his chest. He’d thought he made it clear just how much he fuckin’ liked you, yet here he was, feeling as though he was being backed into a corner - forced to defend himself.

”Let me just tell you somethin’, sweetheart,” he began, “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be fuckin’ standing here, listening to you say shit that makes no fuckin’ sense.”

The blue-eyed man decided that he wasn’t done, “You’re not the only fuckin’ person going through shit, I just don’t take the fuckin’ easy way out and run away when shit gets scary, but hey, maybe you’ll learn that when you grow up.”

You froze in place, letting out a scoff.

In the deep part of Richie’s psyche, he knew that he shouldn’t have brought up your age against you, but fuck, everything you were saying was so far from the truth. He was hurt that you’d questioned his motives, so he resorted to his cutting words to try and get through to you.

Wordlessly, you walked away from Richie, in the direction of your bedroom.

“Fuck,” Richie cursed himself as he watched you disappear into the hallway.

-

You left your bedroom door open, grabbing the oversized graphic tee that rested on your vanity, before slipping it over the tight dress that uncomfortably clung to your body, tugging it down your legs by the hem. Kicking the dress to the side, you took hold of the headphones that laid on your bed, placing them on your head, potentially blocking out the noise of Richie leaving your apartment.

But, he never left.

In fact, Richie locked the front door of your apartment, making sure to turn off the lights in your living room, before he made his way towards your bedroom, drawstring bag in hand. Fuck the reservation, fuck the fancy outfits, all Richie could focus on was the fact that he’d hurt his girl.

Richie found you on your bed, seated with your legs crossed, larger headphones on your head as you forced yourself to keep your eyes trained forward.

Standing beside your bed, Richie dropped his bag onto the floor as he gently reached for your headphones, carefully removing them from your head, “Can y’look at me, pretty girl?” He questioned softly, taking a seat at the edge of your bed, his hands folded over his lap.

Your eyes met his, god, he absolutely hated seeing you cry, let alone bring the reason for your tears.

“C’mere,” he beckoned.

You were hesitant, but nevertheless, you had somehow found yourself straddling Richie’s hips, there was no sexual urges behind your decision and Richie loved it. You had every right to be upset with him, yet you sat on him, solely for the sake of needing to be as close to him as possible.

Richie’s hand softly held your face, “Didn’t want to make you cry, baby, I just-” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “I just - you’ve got this shit all wrong.”

You nodded, wanting him to explain - you needed the reassurance.

Richie’s lips softly pecked yours, before he continued, “I don’t give a fuck if you got your shit together or not - I mean, fuck, baby, I don’t even have my shit in order,” he chuckled.

“But what if you get bored of me?” You mumbled, earning an exaggerated eye roll, coupled with an obnoxious scoff from Richie.

“Not gonna happen, I’d have to be the world’s biggest jagoff if that ever happened,” He dismissed politely, pulling one of your hands that laid interlocked with the other, replacing that hand with his own.

“You don’t think I’m too young? You said that I have to grow u-”

“I was being a fuckin’ asshole, alright?” Richie countered, “Yeah, you’re younger, a lot younger, but you are doing good for yourself, yeah? You’re finishing college, I didn’t even make it in to fuckin’ college.”

Richie’s hands softly grab your face as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’not that great at this, sweetheart, but I want to try, for you,” he coaxed.

“I’m just scared, Richie.” you confessed.

“I’m scared too, just let me- let me take care of you,okay? I promise, m’not going to hurt you, just give me a chance, okay?”

You nodded, “okay.”

The two of you were terrified. This was uncharted territory for the both of you - but you both wanted this to work, you both needed it to work. So, you both sat, Richie holding you closely to his chest as you steadied your breathing to match his.

“I owe you a dinner,” you whispered.

Richie exhaled a short laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He was falling for you, fast, and what scared him the most was knowing that he’d go to pretty deep lengths, just to make sure that you always knew that.

-

and that’s it for part 4 of cherry, so sorry if this is too long, I really just wanted a part that focus on Richie’s inner-workings and his thoughts, I hope you all enjoyed!

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

The Bear

Sydney Adamu

Richie Jerimovich

Carmen Berzatto

Michael Berzatto

Chef Luca

Video Games

141 + König

Joel Miller

Arthur Morgan

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Succession

Roman Roy

Kendall Roy

Shiobhan Roy

Peaky Blinders

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

Saltburn

Farleigh Start

Felix Catton

Spiderverse

Miguel O'hara

[softly-sirius]

The Staff Of The Bear Dating Vampire Gn! Reader Headcanons:

Currently on Shift: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich & Sydney Adamu

Carmen

At first, thought it was kinda weird that you had a mini fridge with a padlock in your room

You told him it was where you kept your vintage jeans

 Which was a complete lie, so when Carmen told you he collected jeans too? 

Well, you had to spend a lot of time researching on the computer to cover that lie up

Will make you blood-infused recipes to show you he accepts you

Red velvet cake with blood instead of beetroot

Honestly, would eat it as well

Ends up getting a little obsessed with making stuff the perfect texture

Asks you loads of questions about blood

What do you like about it? Do different types taste different? How do you like it prepared?

He wants to know everything about your preferences so he can make everything perfect

I think Carmy's vampire partner would struggle the most with being a vampire and not a human 

So eating the food Carmen makes you will make you tear up sometimes because it reminds you so much of being human

Kinda wants you to bite him, but also kinda does not

So So Nervous about it, but you never bring it up

You can hear his pulse racing when he’s stressed so you always know when he needs help

You’ll kiss his pulse point when you notice him stressing out

He washes his hands a million times when he’s back from work in case of garlic

Before he knew the secret he once brought you some garlic bread 

Your nose burnt for a week, your throat even longer

You couldn't bring yourself not to eat it when he gave you those eyes

Carmen has sunscreen for you in summer and insists on it even if it does nothing

The hot summer in Chicago just makes you extra exhausted and sluggish so you need to feed more

He knows when you’re slacking on your feeding and will make you blood puddings (now with real blood)

When he does pluck up his courage and ask about biting he finds out he kinda likes it

Loves it when your teeth scrape his most sensitive areas

He really likes it when you bite at the pudge of his stomach, though it isn’t the best spot for you to feed from

But your bites are more love bites than actually feeding from him

Overall, he is not as chill as Richie would be with a vampire partner, but that's because he isn’t chill about anything

He’s just happy someone likes him :’)

Richie

“You’re a vampire? My baby’s a vampire?”

He would love you to bite him, wants to see your teeth marks all over him

Was jealous for a while wondering where you were getting blood from

 Who were you biting? Did they taste better than him? 

He was not having that

Read that papayas make blood taste better so he starts eating them all the time

Starts taking iron tablets in case that tangy taste is what gets you going

‘Accidentally’ cuts himself in the kitchen to see your reaction. 

It’s minimal 

Eventually, he just gives in and is like, 

“Why have you not drunk from me yet?”

Moans when you bite him, it’s probs made him nut let's be real

Loves to have your bite marks all over him, on his thighs, his chest, his arms

Wants you to feed from him until he goes dizzy and can’t stand

Loses his mind when his blood drips from your lips and you stare at him all predatory

Turns red when you tell him how good he tastes

Enjoys being taken care of afterwards

Makes you watch Blade a million times

Calls himself your toyboy (even if you’re not that old a vampire or younger than him)

Whenever he sees bats he’ll tell you he saw one of your friends

Talks to the bats sometimes

Keeps blood in a wine bottle for you at the restaurant and loves to pour it for you and take care of you when you visit

Loves to cuddle up to you in summer because your body is nice and cold

The most interested in your ‘powers’ and asks you a million questions

“You or Godzilla, who would win?”

“Wait, so when you kept asking me to open all those jars?”

So smug when he realised how often you acted helpless just to get his help

Arm wrestles you all the time

Thinks if he catches you off guard he might win (Sometimes you let him)

He’s a loser, but he’s your tasty loser 

Sydney

Laughs when she finds out and thinks it’s a joke

Probably bails on you for a little while

But then ends up coming back like…

"I didn’t think i could be ok with it, but I would rather be with you than without you"

Is grossed out by it, so you drink blood in private

She does not want to be bitten

Is the least chill with it, but she loves you so she deals

Will feel for your fangs every time you kiss, but you keep them hidden away

She gets mad at you when you go out when it’s really sunny

Keeps shades and an extra hat in her bag because sometimes you just turn up

She’ll be waking around the city and you just appear and ask to hang out

She thinks it’s a kind of power

She just forgot she added you on Find My Friends

Then she realises she can use your powers for her gain

Uses you when shopping second-hand to check if stuff is real silver

Buys you a gothic ring with a bat on it mostly as a joke

But you wear it all the time, it melts her little heart

Loves,when you turn into a little bat, especially if you look like a fruit bat

She’ll cradle you against her chest and stroke your head with her fingers

Will carry you around in her bag all day if you want to

She doesn’t call you her vampire but thinks of you as her bat 

Thinks it’s pretty funny when you go as a vampire for Halloween every year

Especially when a drunk Richie starts complimenting how real your fangs are and pokes his fingers in your mouth

Is definitely not jealous that when Tina cut her finger during prep you had to step out of the room

Especially not when she sees the empty iron pouches in the trash

She knows they tide you over in emergencies till you can drink blood

Maybe she wants you to drink from her a little bit 

Perhaps you’ll get to taste her one day after all, just as a little treat

[buzzcutlip]

Hiiii... For your dialogue prompts could you do 'can't sleep?' or 'don't look at me like that' please?

You choose the character, whoever you think fits best.

Much love <3

Hi Amy, thank you for sending the prompt, here's one for you :) It exist in the Obsession universe (because I'm obsessed with it).

Prompt: "Don't look at me like that" Richie Jerimovich x Fem!Reader 1000+ words (happens in this universe, and after this - but I don't think you need to read it, however, it can be a bit vague)

Through the gaps between the guests' bodies, their shoulders and arms, you spot Richie. He’s shoving canapés into his mouth, the delicate, bite-sized bruschettas and caviar blini looking especially small in his long, thick fingers. It’s obvious he hasn’t eaten, which is typical Richie—he’s the “only coffee and cigarettes until midday, at least” guy, then grabs something quick, just to stuff himself with greasy fast food later in the evening.

You hate how well you know him, how hard it is not to notice his presence in Nat and Pete’s living room, crowded with close and extended family members, Pete’s co-workers, and of course, The Bear crew. Richie’s dressed in an unusual outfit—not a suit, but not his typical sweatsuit either. He’s wearing washed Levi’s and a dark gray henley.

You’d be lying if you said he doesn’t look good. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t still a little heartbroken over what he told you two weeks ago. This can’t happen again.

Petulantly, you don’t go over to greet him. Instead, you talk to Marcus, then catch Pete to congratulate him on the baby, handing him a card in a nice, expensive envelope. In the kitchen, you pour some fresh orange juice, bypass the alcohol, and cram as many ice cubes as you can into the glass. You don’t watch Richie directly, but you’re aware of his every movement.

Donna’s trying to shush everyone because Natalie’s putting the baby down in the nursery, which strikes you as funny—funny and ironic. You have little patience for parents who messed up their kids’ lives, whether it’s your own parents, Donna Berzatto, or the countless irresponsible people who should never have had children.

By the large window overlooking the garden, Richie finally approaches you. Small victories.

“What’re you doing?” His voice, once soothing, now grates on you.

That catches you off guard—it’s not what you were expecting.

“Celebrating the baby,” you reply, raising your half-empty glass of juice.

Richie scoffs, glancing up at the ceiling. It takes you a moment to catch up. He’s so simple, yet so complicated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Richie warns, and you realize he’s noticed your constant awareness of him.

“Like what?” you play dumb.

“Like it’s all my fault,” Richie snaps, his voice rising slightly. One of the uncles turns to look.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you decide not to react. With so many people around, you don’t want to cause a scene. Under Richie’s heavy gaze, you leave the room and head upstairs in search of a bathroom.

Once you’ve freshened up, wiping the black mascara marks from under your eyes and reapplying your lipstick, you feel a bit better. But as soon as you open the door, Richie is right there, hooking his arm through yours and leading you into the nearest room—a guest room, from the look of it.

“What?” you snap, shaking him off and turning to face him.

“I wanna know what’s going on with you,” Richie growls, leaning down until your faces are mere inches apart.

The tension between you is thick, a mix of unresolved emotions and an undeniable physical pull. You both stand there, breathing heavily, caught between the chaos of the party downstairs and the storm brewing in this quiet room.

You can’t believe him. “What’s going on with me? You said things couldn’t happen again, but they did—once, twice. And it was you who initiated it.”

The weight of unspoken words and unsaid truths hangs heavily between you.

Richie steps back, half-turning as he groans loudly, covering his eyes with his large palm.

“Now you wanna pretend nothing ever happened?” you accuse, your voice sounding weaker than you intended.

Richie looks at you with an intensity that both excites and terrifies you. “Because it has to be that way. Fuck—I could be your dad. Jesus.” His hand flexes at his side, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“But you’re not!” you shout. Richie steps back into your space, gripping your bare arm with one hand while covering your mouth with the other.

“There are people,” Richie hisses, his gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes.

For a second, you freeze, then you shake him off and step away. You don’t know this side of him—serious, cold, holding on to his façade as tightly as he can.

“I’m tired of never talking about it,” you say, shaking your head, glowering. You still call it “it,” avoiding the truth.

Richie frowns at you, his deep blue eyes searching for something. The noise from downstairs is loud—laughter, clinking glasses, doors opening and closing. It’s a wild new baby celebration, Berzatto-style. Better laughter than screaming.

A hollow feeling grows in your chest with each passing second. You’re afraid to speak up, so you wait for Richie to make a move.

“What if I said I wanted it?”

“Wanted what?” you ask, trying to mask the tremble in your voice, scared to hope that he means what you think he does. Would a man like Richie really give in? It’s never simple with him—his demons, his baggage, all the walls he’s built.

“If I wanted—this,” Richie waves between the two of you, avoiding your eyes.

Your stomach tightens. It’s not what you’d hoped for deep down, and a pang of disappointment hits you, but you knew this was coming. You step closer to him, your chest brushing against his. The magnetic pull between you is undeniable, and you know if you give in, it’ll consume you both. Maybe that’s exactly what you want. Friends with benefits never ends happily.

In the end, it’s Richie who reaches for you, kissing you with Earth-shattering force. His fingers, smelling faintly of olives, chives, and cigarettes, cradle your face, and you weakly cup his cheeks, feeling his beard under your palms.

You hear yourself whimper as your tongues meet, your eyebrows knitting together as your face crumples. You’re on the verge of tears. Maybe you are crying—Richie doesn’t understand anything, he’s so fucking stupid, and you can’t tell him, because then he’ll leave you and never come back.

The thoughts spur you on. You lead the kiss, desperately pressing closer, standing on your tiptoes, licking into his mouth, biting his lip. He grabs your wrists, as if he wants to say something, but you don’t let him.

Then a loud cracking noise from downstairs jolts you both, and you pull apart, fear of getting caught overtaking the need within you.

Your eyes are heavy with want, arousal pulsing through your body. Richie doesn’t look any better.

“Okay,” you say, though your heart flutters with a mix of anticipation and caution. “But if we’re doing this, it has to be clear—no more mixed signals. No denial.”

Richie’s eyes darken as he steps closer again, his hand trailing down your arm. “Deal,” he says, his voice low, filled with that familiar, irresistible edge. He leans in, his breath brushing against your lips. “We stick to what we know.”

[madwomansapologist]

hello! i saw you would like to write for the bear! would you consider writing yandere stuff for richie? tysm!

richie jerimovich being obsessed would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Richie Jerimovich | AO3

synopsis: You deserve better than him. Richie knows that. You deserve so much better, but the heart wants what it wants.

warnings: yandere themes. kinda tsundere, but still. actually unrequited hate.

note: please I need people to make icons of richie!!! i can only find the same two pics and they're not even that good. also thanks to your request my dear, hope you like it!

• Richie tried to ignore you. He really did. Richie tried so hard to not think about you. To not look at you. To not get lost on your eyes. To not burn his hand instead of cooking because he got distracted watching you working. Richie tried so hard, but he never was strong.

• Maybe he would be able to ignore you, if it wasn't for The Beef. If you didn't work there, if you wasn't part of his life, maybe Richie could've stayed away. Maybe he could've convinced himself that you weren't that important.

• So, unable to ignore you, Richie tried to push you away. Bossy, rude, impolite: he uses his face like a new clothe. If you didn't want to be around him, then you would free him from... From you.

• No one realized that he loved you. But he did love you. Deeply. Richie ache for you. No one realized that, and it included you. Richie expect you to back away, but he couldn't control your reaction: since the moment you understood he was an asshole, you decided to make his life a hell.

• He hates you, so what a better way to hurt Richie than to be constantly bothering him? Always cooking beside him, talking without thinking first, making sure to overstep so he can be uncomfortable. You really thought you were making something.

• Some way you really were torturing Richie, but not how you expected.

• Richie couldn't help but fall in love with the way you love cooking. How you can do it as a second nature, without even thinking about it. He loves to watch your hands, and you are always so close to him. Always arguing, screaming, fighting with Carmy because you are so sure of what you're doing. Richie don't even know the amount of times he got to redo everything because he got distracted on you.

• And he loves to hear you jabbering. To hear anything that passes your head. All Richie want is to know exactly what you're thinking, all the damn time. Your voice could put him to sleep, but he makes an effort to be concentrated on you.

• You didn't even noticed when he stopped being an asshole. Richie just understood that the universe couldn't help him. That the universe wouldn't have mercy on him. Because you deserve better. You deserve so much better. But if nothing can make you ignore him, then how could Richie ignore you?

• He didn't act. Richie didn't told you anything. He just accepted that nothing could stop him from loving you. Still wearing that angry facade, he took care of you. Complaining about how foolish you are, Richie makes sure you don't forget your coat on the way home. Bad mouthing his performance, he makes you take breaks to rest. Yelling at you, he made you start heading home on a safer path.

• And, for now, Richie won't act. Not while he don't deserve you. But he's working on that.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[garbinge]

Early Morning

Carmy Berzatto & Platonic!F!Reader Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 3.3k A/N: This little universe of slice of life stories is my favorite, and i'm so glad so many of you have been enjoying it. <3

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Other fics from this universe The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak

You grabbed the pack of cigarettes from Richie’s jacket that was tossed across your kitchen island and stepped through the window that led to your fire escape. It was early, the sun just starting to rise creating golden hues across Chicago on this beautiful Friday morning. In your hand besides the cigarettes was a large blanket from your couch, just because the sun was out didn’t mean the Chicago air was forgiving. 

Sitting on your firescape with a cigarette wrapped in your blanket was something you found yourself doing often since all the issues with your dad began popping back up again. It offered you peace, an escape from reality almost. Inside, although just as quiet and peaceful most times,  you felt trapped. Stepping outside felt freeing, like the air was easier to breath and your thoughts were easier to fade away in the wind. 

You took the time to watch the hustle and bustle of the streets in the morning, people going to work, the people coming home from their night shifts, those coming home from other night time activities, the construction workers start their work, and everyone in between. 

Where your apartment sat, you were able to see so much of the Chicago streets, below you sat some of your favorite bakeries and delis. If you looked far enough, you could see the street sign where your job was located, but where your eyes sat now was on the small corner that was about 8 blocks away where The Beef, or what was formerly known as The Beef sat. 

It was then, as your gaze passed it that you saw someone in a white t-shirt pacing back and forth on the sidewalk next to the restaurant. Your face fell to a frown and you smirked a little before pulling your phone out of your pocket and calling the person who was pacing, Carmy. 

You saw him look at the phone, but you were too far to really see his expression. It was that moment that you realized there was a high chance he didn’t answer and you’d see it happen right in front of you. With how things had been going lately between you, it was a real possibility he wouldn’t answer and come up with some excuse, that you would know was just a blatant lie. 

But all of those thoughts went to the wayside when you heard his voice and saw him still pacing with the phone to his ear. 

“Why are you up?” Was the first thing out of his mouth when he answered. 

“Why are you up?” You said the same thing back to him. 

“My head’s too busy I just needed to get out.” You saw him bring his hand up behind his head to run his fingers through his hair. 

“Yea, same.” You laughed, it was always so hilarious to you how similar the two of you were despite being so different. “Why are you at the restaurant?” 

“There’s just a million things to do and I gotta meet the fire suppression guy at 9.” He answered you, still pacing until he suddenly stopped, realizing he hadn’t mentioned being at the restaurant. You saw his head raise, and he immediately turned around and began searching in the sky. “Are you?” His eyes were trying to find your building. “Are you fucking watching me, creep?” The smile on his face wasn’t clear to you visually but you could hear it in his voice. You raised your hand and waved which he did back and laughed in the phone. “What are you doing?”

“I just needed some air.” You shrugged and lowered your hand back down. 

“What’s on your mind?” He was still looking up at you. 

“What’s not.” You laughed and shook your head. 

“Do uh, you remember when we were kids, like I don’t know fifth grade of some shit.  And it was like the day of the science fair, we were waiting for your dad to pick us up and you had this huge volcano or something in your hands.” 

“Yea it was Vesuvius.” You remembered it clearly. 

“You kept talking about it as we sat there and I just was staring at the group of kids who were obviously about to come over and be fuckin’ assholes, right.” 

You laughed, remembering how oblivious you were to it all. “They came over and slapped my project out of my hands.” 

“And I just sat there.” Carmy’s voice got stressed. “I feel like I’m always just sitting by watching shit happen.” 

“You actually saved it.” You corrected him. “When it got tossed to the ground it, it started to explode again and you put dish soap on it to stop it.” 

“Where the fuck did I get dish soap?” He scratched his head trying to think. 

“Your science project about germs.” 

“I don’t remember that.” He laughed a little. 

“Of course you don’t, you remember feeling out of control, you always remember feeling out of control.” You said it so obvious. 

“I remember Mikey being the one to pick us up and scaring the piss out of those kids.” 

You wanted to point out that that was another moment where he felt out of control but you dropped it and continued with your version of the memory. 

“That was the night Mikey told me I wasn’t going home for a bit, because he found my dad passed out in the bathroom at whatever fuckin’ dive bar, but he told me he was away on business.” 

“You, uh, talk to your dad lately?” 

That was a weighted question and you felt the anxiety manifest itself as bile in your throat. 

“You wanna talk about lack of control.” You brushed off the comment with a light laugh. “Let’s talk about what we can control, what’s on the agenda today?” Carmy laughed and shook his head. “Not really a qualifying topic.” He sniffled and adjusted his coat slightly before coming up with a new topic to talk to you about. “Oh, I uh, tried your coffee last night.” 

That shocked you, not exactly sure how or when he would have done that. Your silence on the other end gave him the clue that must’ve been what you were thinking and he answered your internal questions. 

“You uh, left some of the containers in the fridge, labeled, I was here late and went to grab a redbull when I saw them and thought—“

“Two birds, one stone.” You nodded, understanding. 

“I mean I guess, but I really thought how I haven’t had a chance to try and you must be kind of moving ahead there, but I could give you my thoughts if you wanted?” 

It was exactly what you wanted, but that didn’t stop you from giving him shit about it. 

“Well if it isn’t going to take you away from your busy morning pacing up and down the sidewalk.” 

Carmy laughed and took the phone away from his ear, starting to scroll around and pull up his notes app before bringing the phone up to his ear again. 

“I just sent it to you.” He was staring back up at your building. 

You did the same thing as him, but putting him on speaker as you went to your messages. Quickly you breezed through his notes, clocking the positive comments along with the few ideas he had as well. 

“You know these weren’t fresh, some of these are better fresh.” You said still reading through the list. 

“Read my… third to last note.” Carmy thought of where the comment he remembered writing sat. 

Blend #3, better in the fridge for 48h, assuming these have been here for 24, so double it, it’s getting richer.

The rest brew fresh. You can taste the stale flavor slightly right now if you know to look for it. 

“Which one’s your favorite?” You finished reading through his comments and brought the phone back up to your ear. “You didn’t write down your favorite.” 

“1.” He didn’t hesitate to answer, he knew it off the top of his head. 

“The Chicago Blend.” You nodded with a smile knowing it was the signature one. 

“That’s good, play on the windy city right? Cause of it’s airy-ness?” 

You smiled from ear to ear and nodded. “Exactly that.” 

“So you got a name for the brand at all?” He was moving to lean against the building now, taking out a cigarette of his own. 

“Uh, yea, you actually gave me some inspiration around it the other day, I think I’m gonna call it Best Blends or something.” 

“I gave you inspo?” Carmy laughed but it was followed by a serious tone. “I like it, like–like the flavors compliment each other.” His voice had a little hesitancy in it. 

“You hate it.” You let out a laugh and covered your eyes with your free hand. 

“No–no I don’t hate it.” He said also laughing a little bit, you could see him running his hand through his curls when you looked back up. 

“It’s corny.” You were nodding, your hand covering your mouth now waiting for his response. 

“No–no it’s not corny.” 

You cut him off quickly. “It’s corny, Carmy, I know you, I can tell you hate it.” 

“It’s–it’s…” He trailed off for a minute before hearing your laugh on the other side and agreeing. “Okay yea, it’s–it’s a little corny, but I don’t hate it.” 

“I just got swept up in the nostalgia of it all and tried to make it punny.” You were still laughing. “I told people this name, how embarrassing.” 

“I think it’s reparable.” He was still laughing slightly. 

“Reparable, huh?” You brought your legs to your chest and you thought for a minute. “I’m coming up blank.” 

“What if you drop best?” He said already having the answer. 

“Blends?” You frowned, thinking about it. 

“The Blend.” Carmy shrugged. 

“Sounds like a band name.” You didn’t laugh this time, because you kind of liked the sound of it. 

“Band names aren’t corny.” He said it like he was trying to prove a point. 

“No, they aren’t.” You nodded. “The Blend.” You said it in a whisper, your way of settling into it. “Sounds like The Bear.” You wanted to mention the similarity of it all. 

“Guess I got a type.” He laughed slightly.

Before the conversation with the name could continue, you felt something warm next to your shoulder and turned to see a coffee mug. You followed the arm up to see who was holding it and saw a sleepy Richie holding it out for you. A smile grew on your face and as you went to grab it you heard Carmy on the other end. 

“Who is that? Is that Richie?” 

“No, it's Leonardo DiCaprio. Yes it’s Richie.” You teased. 

“Alright, look, it’s still weird, alright.” He lifted his hand up in innocence. 

Normally Richie would have had something smart to say but all he did was lift his hand up and give Carmy the finger before leaning down and placing a kiss on your head. 

“Oh yea, real nice, okay, even nicer.” Carmy turned around when he saw Richie lean down to leave a kiss on your head. 

“Thanks for the coffee, there’s a day-old breakfast sandwich in the fridge with your name on it.” You looked up at Richie who just grunted in acknowledgement and stepped back out the window. 

There was silence on the phone while Carmy worked through his awkwardness and you took a few sips of the coffee. 

“Hey, uh, are you happy?” Carmy was clearly still working through the awkwardness. 

You looked through the window to see Richie falling asleep at the table, you knew he was tired because he was up all night with you watching funny clips of Family Feud because he knew how much it made you laugh. 

“Yea, Carm, I am.” You were smiling from ear to ear. 

He didn’t respond verbally, but he did nod and that’s when you looked back at him and realized what he was asking. 

“I know it probably kills you to hear it, but I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while.” 

“Doesn’t kill me, shocks me a little, grosses me out for sure, you’re like my sister, you know. But after everything–” He stopped talking like it was hard for him to even think about what happened. “After everything you’ve been through, I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy.” 

“You deserve that too, Carm.” You fell back into the side of your apartment as you said it. 

“Yea, well, thanks for making my morning not completely suck.” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Anytime, you are now free to go back to pacing the sidewalk and panicking about your to-do list. But when you’re done, text me like 5 things on the list that you want to delegate to me and Richie and we’ll take it off your hands.” 

“I think that might send me back into my panic.” He joked and shook his head. “No, yea, I’ll – I’ll do that.” 

“You better. Alright, love you, talk to you later.” 

“Yea, l–, me too.” It was a struggle to come out of his mouth, but you appreciated it even more because of that.

You hung up the phone and stood up before lifting your own hand up to give him the finger which he happily reciprocated. As you crawled back into your apartment, you placed the blanket over Richie which caused him to wake up. 

“What time is it?” He asked, wiping his eyes. 

“7:13.” Your hand was opening the fridge so you could grab the breakfast sandwich for him. 

“Shit, I gotta go.” With one more wipe of his eyes, he was standing up, coffee mug in hand. 

“You're dropping off Eva today?” You asked him, moving towards the door. 

“Yea, this week I got switched around to Friday. Tiff had a work thing.” Richie was suddenly feeling off and began fiddling with his jacket. 

“You know you don’t have to explain your kid stuff to me, I just was asking because I’d come for the ride with you if you wanted.” A shrug left your shoulders and you held the sandwich out to him. 

He stared at you with a slight smile before leaning over and grabbing your coat from the rack. “You hold the sandwich, let’s go.” He was tossing your coat over your shoulders and then swinging his keys around his finger as you both made your way to the elevator in your building. 

The car ride wasn’t exactly peaceful, between Richie’s complaints against traffic which were anything but subtle, the beeps and business of the streets on the way to get Eva, and then the blast of Taylor Swift through the speakers as you made your way to the school. 

“Favorite album?” You turned around, Richie’s cold breakfast sandwich in your hand with a huge bite, or five, taken out of it from yourself and turned to look at the little girl in the backseat. 

“Speak Now. Taylor’s Version.” She said it so firmly. 

“Oh TV all the way, girl.” You held out the sandwich for her to take a bite. 

“Dad never shares his breakfast sandwiches.” She smirked and grabbed the biscuit from your hand. 

Your gaze turned to Richie with a frown, not expecting him to be the granola type of father. 

“It’s because your mom likes to give you fruit and sh–stuff, for a balanced breakfast.” He looked in the rearview mirror. 

You looked at Richie, your eyes a little wide since she was two bites into the thing already and he just scrunched his face up and shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s half eaten already. Not by me, I might add.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one, you told me to hold onto it, I got hungry, okay?” You rolled your eyes and turned back to the girl in the back seat. 

“What’s on the agenda at school today, kiddo?”

“Math, which isn’t my favorite.” She used her hand to wipe her hair back and got biscuit flakes caught in the strands of her hair. 

“I don’t know many people where math is their favorite. It’s definitely not my favorite.” You leaned over and picked them out of her hair, using the opportunity to make her laugh by blowing on her face to make the flakes shift from her hair to the floor of the car. 

Her laugh was contagious, you were giggling and Richie was chuckling as well just from hearing it. 

“My dad says you like coffee.” She was handing back the sandwich to you. 

“I do.” You nodded, “that’s super nice of you to remember.” 

“My dad remembered, he’s the one who told me.” She pointed to him. 

“Yea, well, your Dad is super nice, too.” With your right hand you squeezed Richie’s arm. 

“He also says coffee makes you crazy.” 

You let out a snort followed by a laugh. “I’m gonna need to hang out with you more, Eva.” 

“I’d like that. We can listen to Taylor Swift.” She was kicking her feet from excitement. 

“Alright kiddo, we’re at school.” Richie was putting the car in park and moving out of the car to grab her and get her on her way. 

After Richie walked Eva to school and got back in the car, he raised his eyebrows and started fiddling with the keys dangling from the slot before turning the ignition. 

“You know you’re really great with her.” 

“She’s a great kid.” You said it like it’d be impossible not to be great with her because of that. 

Richie was about to say something when you unknowingly cut him off, “Wow he actually sent me the list.” You were scrolling on your phone. “The list?” Richie was confused as he began driving. 

“Yea, I told him to send us stuff to do.” You weren’t fully paying attention to him and were locked into your phone reading the things on the list. 

“I got stuff to do I'm going to work at that new place tomorrow, staging or whatever the fuck.” His hand was in the air. 

“Oh that's tomorrow?” You turned to him, not realizing how fast it came up. “But that means we have today. We can divide and conquer.” 

Richie let out an audible groan and slammed his head back against the headrest of the car as you pulled up to the red light. “If you’re gonna make me do this shit at least come with me, make it partially enjoyable.”

“Wow you like my company?” Your smile was growing and you looked at him, faking a shocked look and starting to tease him by poking him with your fingers.

“Alright, don't get all worked up over it.” He was embarrassed and let you push him teasingly. 

“You like my company.” It was said so singsongy as you continued to poke him and shake him. 

“Yea I do, and you're not bad to look at either, okay?” He swatted your hand lightly. “What’s on the list, cmon.” 

It was your cue to stop the teasing, so as you fell back into your seat you looked at him and smiled, resting your head similarly to how he had his. For a few seconds the two of you stared at each other but not for long before the people behind you laid on the horn. 

“Hey! I’m having a fuckin’ moment here, you jagoff, take a breather for fucks sake! The light’s been green for half a millisecond.” 

You started to read the first thing on the list to Richie as he kept mouthing off to the guy in the car behind, taking the seconds in between yelling to tell you where he could pick up the first few things on the list, and where you’d be able to get the linens for a decent price. 

All you could do is look at him, as he kept going on and on and just think back to what Carmy asked you earlier. It was funny how this moment of chaos fully described just how happy you were. Maybe that’s what the key to happiness was, finding it even in the chaos.

[thefanficmonster]

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.