#THIS IS 6 MICHELIN STARS

[joffyworld]

AHHHHH SO GOOD ELIZA IS LEVELLING UP THE COOKING

Page 2... Colored

AND YES IN THE DARK SHAMURA'S PUPILS ARE VIOLET AND SHIMMER

I find it funny to look at the different stages of this page. I can still

[ma1dita]

james potter x reader please!

so, in this one james and lily survive but they realize that they aren't for each other and decide to get a divorce or whatever it is in the wizarding world. so harry spends half of the week with james, and half with lily and her new partner, mary macdonald (yes, i am a marylily shipper)

so, reader is harry's new primary school teacher and baby boy loves her!

one day, james picks harry up from school and meets harry's favorite “miss pretty,”

turns out, she was in the same class as james (different house, ravenclaw preferably) but he never really noticed her bcs all he ever thought about before was quidditch, his friends, and lily evans

ooooh, harry setting his dad up with reader would be amazing!

james potter x ravenclaw!teacher!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: no warnings, unedited. only one ravenclaw mention; thank you for the req love! sorry for the wait

—

Harry J. Potter is undoubtedly James’ son. From his unruly hair that can only be salvaged by a thick swipe of Sleakeazys, to the glasses that slide down the tiny bridge of his nose, and more evidently as of late—the mischief that runs through his veins, there’s really no doubt that this troublemaking 6-year-old is his.

No blood magic or Muggle fraternity… ehem, paternity test needed.

So there he sits in a too-small, sunshine yellow kiddie chair in the hallway of Harry’s classroom because he’s been called in for a parent-teacher meeting. The chair part wasn’t necessary, but Harry’s playing pretend to be a waiter at a 5-star restaurant that his mommy said Lily was taking her partner Mary to. And whatever Harry says, goes for the most part (which is exactly why he’s in this chair in the first place. He could paint a picture of how red Lily’s face got over the phone when she yelled at him over their baby getting called in for misconduct).

It all must’ve been a misunderstanding, or something he’s yet to find out the reason for, such as why little Harry’s pretend Michelin star establishment has the waiter flying food over in an airplane, complete with bumbling engine noises and his arms sticking out as he runs down the hallway. 

Classy.

“H, I ordered extra fries with this burger!” James says in a ridiculously indignant voice, pretending to huff and cross his arms and he almost cracks a smile when his little one comes giggling down the way back to him, “Coming right up, Daddy!” The other, much older parents that pass by the empty hallway are less enthused, but well, James Fleamont Potter and shame don’t belong in the same sentence, much less a lifetime. 

Tiny airplane arms graze the construction paper Hungry Caterpillar that lines the hallway, painted handprints waving back at little Harry as he runs full speed, until the door opens and BOOM!

James hears laughter instead of tears so when he abruptly stands up, knocking the small yellow chair over (and the purple side table he had all his imaginary food on), albeit trying to come off nonchalant, he’s relieved. What he’s more surprised about is the pretty lady that’s whirling his boy around in her arms.

“Harry the hurricane! Just in time to mix things up and sprinkle some energy back into my day huh?”

You’re dressed in a light pink vest and a long skirt that Harry’s hanging off of like the monkey bars at the playground and you seem to think nothing of it as you stick your hand out for him to shake, “Mr. Potter, thank you for coming in!”

“Oh love, James is fine I—” “DADDY! SAY HI TO MISS PRETTY!”

Quite right, he thinks. There’s something charming about you that he finds himself trying to figure out, hair tied messily on your head, different marker stains on your hands, and a stray holographic sticker that says “What a Star!” seems to have found its way to your abdomen. He thinks that if the professors at Hogwarts were this beautiful, he’d actually spend less time in detention.

The tot is grinning ear to ear and almost bouncing as you crouch down and gently take his hands off your skirt and into your own with a velveteen smile, “What did we say, hon? When we’re inside the classroom, we use our inside voices. Soft like a warm breeze, hmm?”

“But Miss Pretty, I’m not in the classroom yet!” Harry says cheekily as he points to his light-up sneakers standing toes away from the doorway. The boy goes running in towards the back of the room to go play with the building blocks and James has to bite his tongue when he watches you pinch your nose before taking your place at the desk in the front of the room.

“Well hello then, Miss Pretty,” he says with a smirk, throwing his blazer over the back of the thankfully adult chair and rolling his shirt sleeves up as he takes a seat. It’s quiet in the room besides the sound of Harry pretending to be Godzilla on a poor imaginary city in the background.

You stare at him a bit sideways, a beat of silence occupying the space between you, and then a snort escapes you—unladylike, but oh, what a woman. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He blinks. Harry’s block towers crash to the ground and it sounds like James’ hopes of this going anywhere outside the classroom, a reverberating sound that drops with his heart falling to his ass, “Say what now?”

“Dear Godric, you’re still the same as back at school!” you scoff, leaning back in your chair and kicking your legs up on the desk (that he admittedly takes a peek at, but anyways); clearing his throat he’s so sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding—how could anyone overlook someone as stunning as you?

“I should’ve known, to be honest, when a mini-me of you walked in here on the first day, oh—the look on my face, I swear Lily’s gonna get a kick of this when she comes by next week, she was worried that you were coming in and not her anyways.”

The furrow in his brow is like a faultline right now, wondering how in the hell all of this has gone wrong in the last few minutes from the door, “Don’t bother with anything that woman says,” and then you’re laughing because, “Funny, from what I remember, you bothered her no matter what she said.”

And look how that turned out 7 years and a divorce later. 

Co-parenting with Lily Evans-McDonald is not for the weak, after all.

“Why am I even here?” James says exasperatedly, eyes flickering to the ceiling and then to his son who’s doing airplane arms as he kicks down his blocks. You cross your arms almost smugly, and he hopes you don’t take offense, which he clarifies by the frazzled look on his face and the hands he runs through his hair—”Your son called me stupid in class yesterday…”

Dear Merlin.

“And he said that his daddy was the one who told him to say it.”

A wheezing noise leaves his chest and he’s in disbelief, eyes whipping between you and his darling boy and the fact that he’s smack in the middle of looking an outright fool when it comes to this parenting all because of—

“You do know I didn’t mean it like that it’s just—”

You’re grinning as he loosens his tie in a panic, “We didn’t learn the alphabet like that back in our day?”

“I MEAN WHO CHANGES THE ALPHABET SONG? Truly!” James blubbers as he tries to cover his ass and somehow he’s the one who feels like he’s in trouble with the teacher. 

Perhaps he is, though this was not the original scene he had in mind walking in here. He takes a deep breath once you give him the same look you did Harry about his inside voice and—Godric you’re good at that—”And obviously…obviously I didn’t know you were his teacher.”

“Oh? Does that make a difference, Mr. Potter?”

You’re biting down on a perfectly plump bottom lip and his eyes are still wide and he can’t do anything but laugh.

“How asinine of me. You’re a Ravenclaw if I remember, right? Used to study with Moony all the time…” James mutters like he’s discovered something monumental and then he whispers your name, and it sounds as soft as you—something unearthed and new. He likes the way it sounds coming from his mouth and by the quirk of your lip, you do too. “How could I forget you?” 

The two of you chuckle like how children share a secret and it’s all too confusing for his bundle of joy that comes bounding past the seats and pushing off his father’s lap. 

“Oof—” James wheezes as he gets the wind knocked out of him, hunching over in pain, “Careful H, holy sh—” He swallows down the rest of his thought as you raise an eyebrow at his language, instead scooping Harry into your arms and sitting him on the edge of the desk.

“Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that at Harry’s age, his brain is like a sponge—there’s a lot for him to learn and he’s obviously a lot like his daddy, so Daddy’s going to have to be more conscious of what he has to say.” 

Oh the irony.

“Daddy will then, yeah?” he chokes out, restraining himself at the joyous look on his kid’s face when Harry says, “Miss Pretty, can you be Daddy’s teacher too?”

You pat the boy’s head and pinch a chubby cheek, “He’s got a lot to learn too, right Harry? Daddy was always in detention when we were little too.”

James is stirring in his seat and feeling hot under your gaze as he watches you interact with his son. He kind of regrets letting Lily take the reins with all of Harry’s parent-teacher meetings because clearly, he’s been missing out.

“Daddy was also Head Boy, but okay.” The two of you are giggling at the disgruntled look he gives your comment and James feels outnumbered, but not in a way that bothers him. If he’s being honest, he can understand why Harry was so intent on always getting his homework done right.

A while after, you all walk towards the door and Harry’s proudly walking out with a “Dinomite!” sticker on his forehead as James and you catch up on trivial things and then…

“DADDY! YOU RUINED THE DINNER!”

Harry’s pointing at the overturned table in the hall that he seems to have missed earlier and James cringes as he feels an imminent tantrum—if you call him a hurricane wait until he starts crying like a tornado siren. But you come to the rescue and bend over to shake his shoulders, “It’s okay Harry that just means you can make Daddy dinner again!” The little one is rubbing his eyes and whining a bit more softly and his father is looking at you like you’re an angel on Earth.

“That’s our cue to go,” he laughs, squeezing your arm and shaking his head, “Wish I could bring you hom—That’s not. That didn’t come out right,” he stutters, “I mean that you’re kind of a miracle worker and clearly doing better than how I fare sometimes with him. I think we’re too alike.”

“You’re doing great and he’s an amazing kid,” you reassure him, pulling out a sticker and pressing it onto his lapel. It’s of a triceratops and says “No one tops you!” He reads it and smirks, the famous James Potter smolder coming out to play and you roll your eyes. Harry is tugging at both your hands and when you look down at him, he’s hopeful and looking at you with determination he must’ve got from his mother.

“Since Daddy’s ruined dinner would you like to teach him now Miss Pretty? He’s got a lot to learn like you said.”

You’re at a loss for words, trying to stutter your way out of this one but James thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

After all, like father, like son.

“Think I could even go for extra credit if I’m allowed, Miss Pretty.”

[idiotgojo]

Jjk men and how good they're at cooking

Oh this is so 😭🔥🤪💥💳

#1 Nanami! Like as if you didn't already guess. Bro is a house husband. Even though he's agreed to split chores he always offers to cook for even if it isn't his turn. He's always searching for new recipes to enjoy and is experimental not only in bed 🥰

#2 Satoru! Listen i know this might be controversial but hear me out, gege did say gojo is good at everything he tries. So maybe after a few failed attempts he's running that kitchen like a five star Michelin chef. Never does the dishes.

#3 Megumi! Tsumiki and him were left alone a lot when gojo was away on missions. I'm sure he picked up a few good cooking skills along with Tsumiki.

#4 Geto! Girl dad. Of course he's doing his best for his little girls. He specialises in breakfasts only don't ask me why.

#5 Choso! Probably has never stepped into a kitchen, but would be enthusiastic enough to learn if he was offered to be taught. Would gradually get better at it. Loves taste test!

#6 Toji! He trie(d)s™

#7 Yuji! Would unintentionally burn down the kitchen

#8 Sukuna! Would intentionally burn down the kitchen

[honoredalone]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘?

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who takes you out 6 days of the week and the 7th sends you five grand and a driver to take you to the spa. get your nails done, a facial, hair, massage, sauna, hot tub, everything the facility has to offer he makes sure you get.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who rents out the entire mall so you can go on a hassle free shopping spree. he loves examining what you pick out, what makes your eyes light up and most importantly what you dislike. you often tell him that he’s doing too much or that you’d just be happy with a small trip to target but he has to show out for his favorite girl.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who always sends breakfast, lunch and dinner to your beautiful loft apartment that overlooks the cherry blossom trees when in bloom. if he can’t be there to eat with you he has to be sure that you have proper meals accessible to you.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who had his driver drop off a stunning ivory silk dior dress with a cute but vague note. ‘be ready in an hour thirty, dove :)’ so of course you got ready as fast as you could, new makeup and hair products all over your desk courtesy of satoru. ready in an hour, hobbling outside in your ysl high heels, door opened by the doorman and rushing to the restaurant.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who’s hands were clammy and cold. his whole body was tingling with anticipation. never had he ever been this nervous for a date that isn’t an official date. he’s dressed in his best clothes, crisp periwinkle button up sitting prettily on his strong broad shoulders, black dress pants to match his dress shoes, accompanied by the black leather belt snaking his slutty waist.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who’s eyes fell out of his head when he saw you walk through the doors of the michelin star restaurant. the ivory color popping against your radiant skin, the slit in the fabric showing off your flawlessly gorgeous legs, your face looking even more unreal than always and your hair surrounding you in an intoxicating aura. he swears he died and went to heaven’s fucking heaven.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who could barely register what was on the menu because he was so lost in your words, mesmerized by the way your lips move, the sparkle in your eyes and the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who buys you three full desserts due to your indecisiveness but of course, with his sweet tooth, he eats most of them.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who insists on taking you home in his stunning new mclaren p1. the city lights shining on your hair, the beautiful diamonds that covered your collarbone and the gloss on your plump lips making his cock strain his pants.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who’s neck hairs stand up when you ask him to come up to your apartment, he rubs the sweat of his palms onto his expensive pants. his heart jumped out of his throat when you laced your fingers with his to the venture up to your home.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who makes you both a cocktail sweeter than honeycomb while you put your feet up on the cloudy couch. he grunts setting down the pretty drinks on the coffee table, resting your feet on his lap skillfully kneading the soreness out.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who talks to you so sweetly, his voice gentle and serene, his words kind and warm. he tells you about his work, his friends. he asks you about your day, your friends though you spend almost all of your time with him, your cute waitress job that you insisted on keeping though he told you he could take care of you fully.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who’s thoughts raced when he runs his hands up from your feet to massaging your calves but with your legs now higher, resting on his right shoulder, he caught a glance of your panties that he had bought for you. a pretty lace sky blue thong sitting teasingly on your body, his mouth is nearly watering and eyes trained on your clothed core.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who can’t find it in himself to hold back anymore.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 can’t find an ounce of self control once he’s inside of you.

it’s the way your pussy squeezing around each vein, how warm and wet you are, the right clench of your pretty walls and the heavenly noises that fall from your pillowy lips.

“feels ngh— feel so fucking good, dove. fuck.” his words tickle the shell of your ear, making you shiver and suck his cock in deeper making a low, primal chuckle vibrate in your head down to your sweet core. “greedy girl. love my cock huh?” he plowed in and out of you like a rabbit desperately trying to survive, his hands either on your waist, hoisting up your legs to rest on his sculpted shoulders or cradling your pretty little head.

“t-toru, please.” you cried, his large cock pressing against your tummy making it bulge when he was fully sheathed inside of you. positioning you with your waist higher, shoving a pillow under your lower back he stuffs himself back in, grinding his pubic bone down on your swollen clit. “do that, do that again. please, baby.”

he continues his assault on your needy cunt, grunts and groans turning into whines and slutty moans. his tip pressing against your cervix just begging to release into your needing womb. twists and turns of his hips have your toes curling, words of candied praise make your heart speed and his kisses digging into your sensitive skin. his powdered lats decorated in angry red scratches and his long neck is polka dotted in purple hickeys. he loves this, your arrangement, you.

he loves the way you speak to him. he loves the way you have taught him to live his life the way that he never thought he deserved. he loves the way you hold him on the nights he needs more than just sugar. he loves the way this has gone beyond just the money and the sexual desire, the way you’ve really become his and he yours. that’s all he can think of.

love, love, love. and you.

“love you. i—i love you, dove. augh, fuuuuck!” he pathetically released inside of you without warning. he felt like a teenager having sex for the first time but only this was better, so much better. “sorry, i’m sorry, baby. jus’ lemme make it up to you, yeah?” he tangled his tongue with yours for a couple seconds, his lips search down your body. latching to your perky sweet nipples, index and thumbs playing with the nipple that lacked his rosy lips circling it. soon after giving your plushy tits his undivided attention he sinks down lower to suck and nibble your beaded nerves.

your pussy might as well been covered in syrup the way he was devouring you nearly whole. you ran your nails from his freshly chopped undercut to scrape against his suddenly very sore scalp drawing a thick groan from his vocal cords. his long fingers press your folds and with a wet squelch curling against the spongy spot that had you squirting all over him.

round after round, finally being worn down you held him. his nose nudging your sensitive area behind your ear, chills tickling up your spine. your arm wrapped around him, massaging up and down his muscular build and your opposite hand cradling his snowy head. satoru’s unanswered confession still hanging in the air eerily but not uncomfortably. he wonders what’s going on in your beautiful mind, what thoughts plague your brain when you can’t sleep, what you think when with him. his hands grip your hips almost possessively though there’s no one else present. he doesn’t remember when he fell in love with you but he knows that it is the purest feeling in the world.

you made love feel like freedom, it was a choice, like it was the only thing in his life he had control over, but he really didn’t. he loves you recklessly, without care though he couldn’t find it in his morals to care. those words lingering in the air stick to his body like a disgusting sweat, his limbs almost trembled in anticipation.

careless, selfish, good for nothing. horrible thoughts invaded his brain, those words glued on his conscious like chewed, discarded gum but never the less he pushes them back. his brain goes fuzzy, racing thoughts started to slow and his eyes became too heavy to fight, his grip became softer and his breathing relaxed.

“i love you too. i love you satoru.” he could barely register your words but you knew he had heard them because of the small gasp before leveled breaths replaced it.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who is now in the world’s most high end jewelry shop searching for the most perfect stone to embellish your beautiful ring finger while you’re currently being pampered in your hotel room getting dolled up for your extravagant date in europe.

sugar daddy, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who’s down on one knee, large jewel bestowed upon a velvet cushion.

sugar daddy, fiancé, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who stands, crystal tears cling to his waterline while you read your vows.

sugar daddy, husband, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who still takes you out 6 days a week and goes with you for spa days. who still rents out a mall. who spends every meal with you. who loves you like it’s his last day on earth.

please send in an ask, dm me or comment! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

also the new leaks!?!?!? i’m shocked i hate the ending so much and i imagine this is how people who hate the aot ending feel. anywho…. to what matters, gege… how, just per chance, do you plan on bringing back my beautiful blue eyed freakazoid of a man or what.. like an au..? spin off..?

thank you again my lovely readers if you made it this far <3

[sunlit-mess]

Just updating for the Hazbin Hotel AU I'm writing!

I'll be separating the comics into two categories in which:

× The main comic series focused on the story

× And the other revolving around Radioapple 📻🍎

ABOUT THIS AU:

MICHELIN STARS

is a Hazbin Hotel Restaurant AU where Charlie offered her help to Lucifer, until he agreed to let her manage the place, as to her perspective is that he does work hard, but always worked too much.

Charlie soon faces the hardship of running a business and macromanaging. With the inconsistent quality, increasing trouble in finance, unsatisfied customers: Nevertheless, doesn't stop her passion for food and has set a goal to bring success and life it needs, having the family business running and about with her most trusted employees in the mix! That is... Until the sketchy activities behind service. What a recipe for disaster~

-

In reality, Hotels and Restaurant management/service does not stray far from each other but rather work together. So, I figured of writing focusing on Food industry while not straying away from how it goes Canonically in the Hazbin Hotel Universe! ::)

INSIGHT OF SOME CHARACTERS:

× Lucifer is a widower ( or is he ? ).

× Lucifer's family has a big connection and history in military. Too bad he's exiled.

× Charlie is a tough boss! You better listen up!

× Alastor is a 3 Michelin * chef and has worked with Vox in the past.

x Lucifer has 6 Michelin stars.

× Alastor will have the same moral code with Lilith in this AU.

× (past) Vox and Alastor came from a rough system in the industry they worked for.

× Vox now owns a restaurant and brand, running the business with the other Vees.

× Adam and the rest of the court works under law/officials.

× Lilith works... with her own method of operations under law/officials.

-

That's it from me for now, thank u for reading!!! 🍽

[madlori]

General PSA - Michelin stars

Because this came up in a conversation I had last week.

The context was someone talking about being excited to visit a restaurant with one Michelin star in Chicago (the closest city to my city to find a starred restaurant). Someone else said "One star? So it's terrible?"

Pause, rewind.

The Michelin star system is ascending, not descending (as a five-star rating system is). You can have either zero Michelin stars (99% of of the world' restaurants), ONE star (currently about 2900 restaurants worldwide), TWO stars (about 500) or THREE stars (currently 145).

There are 6 three-star restaurants in London. Four in New York. This is the highest distinction a restaurant can achieve.

This is why you hear about chefs "earning their star," when you go from the rank and file to having a star. And once you have one, you can earn more...or you can lose it. Restaurants are re-evaluated to ensure they're maintaining their standards.

The Michelin guide does not review only fancy restaurants. Many of the starred restaurants are very high-end, but lots aren't. I ate a one-starred restaurant in San Francisco called State Bird Provisions which you'd be fine to go to in jeans and a tee. It was great. There's a food truck that has a Michelin star.

Michelin also only covers certain cities. They're continually expanding, but right now in the US they cover New York, DC, Chicago, California, central Florida (Miami/Tampa/Orlando), Colorado, Atlanta, and just recently added the five major Texas cities (Dallas/San Antonio/Austin/Houston/Fort Worth) although those results haven't been released yet. They cover a lot more in Europe and Asia (the Michelin guide is French).

And yes, it's the same company as the tire manufacturer. Early in their history they wanted people to travel more by car, and use their tires, so they started writing and printing guidebooks for travel. This evolved into restaurant ratings, and somehow along the way it became the ne plus ultra of restaurant hierarchies.

This has been your infodump post for the evening, brought to you by MadLori, Inc.

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Recreational

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: Two chefs, one needs a distraction and the other needs anything but. 

Word Count: ~11k

Notes: This one has been stuck in my drafts for almost 6 months, google docs was my editor so if you mention any grammar/spelling mistakes I'm gonna blame Google lol.

--

Y/n always had the idea that life never let her be too happy. And not to be unnecessarily pessimistic or ungrateful for the good things that happened in her life, but it was really only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. To be completely honest, if she was remotely better at anything else or something else paid more, she wouldn’t have been a chef. She thought her career as a chef was the universe having a good laugh at her, making her a part of a culture so deeply rooted in making connections which she couldn't reciprocate.

“They aren’t your friends.” The lesson was so deeply ingrained into y/n’s psyche that it was impossible for her to even spare a simple congratulatory smile after finding out her co-worker had won a James Beard award a few years prior or give that same co-worker a nod of approval when he retained a star. They were at best two instruments in the same tool kit, easily replaceable to the other, and y/n wasn’t going to offer an olive branch. 

The French Laundry’s kitchen had perfected the skill to make even the best chefs throw their thousand dollar knife in a huff and quit on the spot. The head chef was a maestro of pushing buttons, ensuring a constant undercurrent of tension that never reached extreme highs because, in that kitchen, there was never a low.

That was before y/n was hired. There were chefs with better referrals, more experience, were more likable but there was something in her that put her above the rest, she didn’t crack. 

She didn’t flinch when the head chef lowered himself to her level, still towering over her, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be there in the middle of a dinner rush on her first week. 

Carmen kept his head down, anticipating the impending sobs and sniffles. However, as moments of silence stretched on, he resisted the unseen force compelling him to remain bowed. Slowly lifting his gaze, he noticed her studying the head chef as if extracting more from his irises than his words. Her eyes then swept over the rest of the staff before locking onto Carmen's. There, in that shared glance, he sensed her silent inquiry, a question of whether he, the second in command with a James Beard award and a Michelin star, was a coward.

He bowed down, focusing on the plate in front of him and pretending to wipe a nonexistent splatter.

The silence echoed while the rest of the chefs continued to slice, dice, and stir not sparing a glance, this was nothing new. When the head chef figured that she wouldn’t say anything back, he sauntered over to his next victim. Carmen lifted his head one more time, there was nothing he could do to comfort her if she was a mess but he already knew which chef would have to take over for her while she sobbed in the freezer. He was met with her side profile, she was smirking.

For a brief moment it felt like Carmen finally got a good look at her since she had been hired a week ago. It took a few moments for Carmen to decipher her expression. She was unimpressed with him, the head chef, and the kitchen. It wasn’t possible to be unimpressed and here she was looking at everyone like she was a parent listening to the squabbles of an irritable child, it was different.

She was a dangerous person because her small stunt inspired him to do something he had never done in the French Laundry, roll his eyes when the head chef left after his criticism. It was a small taste of delicious, slippery, freedom that was bound to kill him later. The day ended and Carmen didn’t even notice that he was walking up to her until he was right in front of her. 

Y/n was expecting an apology and Carmen was expecting an opening to start talking, something had to give but it was too raw to do that here. After one more glance, Carmen started parting his lips but y/n slipped right past him and walked out. 

They aren’t your friends.

Y/n had many aspirations growing up: pop-star, astronaut, scientist, and ice-cream vendor. As she got older the list matured, and consequently shortened. It didn't take much for her to enroll in culinary school, a decision made almost impulsively. 

In the busy kitchen, amid clattering pots and the aromatic dance of ingredients, she watched chefs passionately invest themselves in each dish. She had heard stories from her colleagues, the heartfelt narratives that bound them to their culinary journey, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of shame that she couldn’t reciprocate. Her presence in the kitchen wasn't driven by sentimental attachments to food; she was here for a paycheck, a stark contrast to the fervor surrounding her. As she navigated the world of flavors and aromas, she grappled with the solitude of her own motivations, wondering if there was space for her in a profession driven by love, memories, and a deep connection to the culinary craft.

Unable to reciprocate the profound connections others sought, a sense of bitterness and unrest festered within her. Her internal conflict wasn't born out of disdain for those more accomplished; instead, it stemmed from a profound inability to fathom the emotional intricacies that seemed to drive others but couldn’t seem to reach her. 

Y/n didn’t allow herself to confront a nuanced flaw—projecting her perception of routine loneliness onto the world, all while unconsciously imposing a self-isolation rooted in a complex interplay of guardedness and yearning for genuine connection. She kept herself busy by watching, judging, others in the hopes that eventually she would see something that clicked. 

Y/n spent the next few years in relative ease even if every single soul in the French Laundry were a bunch of battered devotees, who regularly got verbally and emotionally beaten black and blue, but still came crawling back. It was almost humorous to watch all the chefs line up to leave and look like they just had their soul siphoned out from their puckered assholes. 

Carmen felt like a cautionary tale to her, never getting too involved. He had crafted his own prison cell, a second in command with no real power, no life outside of work, and y/n bet he told himself that this was his peak. His self created pathetic life was so intensely interesting to y/n that she resisted asking about his life so she never made the same mistakes. But the way his focus scattered across the kitchen told her that he didn’t know why he was like this either. 

He didn’t come to work on a Friday, which was a bit of a shock, and it rippled when she walked in on some janitor emptying his locker a few days later, and just like that, Carmen was gone from her life. 

Months went by and by then y/n had completely forgotten about the chef that wasn’t strong enough until she saw browsing a food blog, and she found a name that she thought she would never see again. A post about a restaurant in Chicago that had served yet another "dish to die for". She refreshed the page a few more times, wondering if this was someone with a similar name but after a bit of sleuthing, a slightly blurry google review photo, it was undeniable, Carmen was indeed in Chicago. 

They shared certain similarities—they had comparable resumes, education, and paychecks. Given the exorbitant rents in New York, it was likely that their living expenses were almost identical. They were both engulfed in the demanding world of cooking, leaving little time for anything else. Yet, despite these parallels, a puzzling question lingered: why did Carmen have the financial freedom to make a spontaneous departure, a luxury y/n had yearned for but couldn't grasp for years?

Y/n wished that she felt that pulling force, like seeing a familiar face after a long time bloomed an ache in her heart. She spent a few moments trying to will her heart string to pull but she was unsuccessful. She was looking for a reason to leave the French Laundry and she was hoping that Carmen’s scribble tattoos, wavy hair, nauseatingly blue eyes would make a path for her to escape, or at least reveal what gave him that final push. 

She liked the restaurant that she used to work at, a local hotspot that was known for its penne alla vodka and other vaguely Italian dishes. Over there she was the hotshot young chef freshly graduating from the CIA and was leagues above anyone else. No one towered over her asking if she knew what she was doing, no one ever asked her if she remembered to stir the roux, or if she was an assistant. The only reason she left was because her student debt was closing in and she was exhausted from constantly debating if she should buy a replacement for her shitty knife or groceries for the month. Being poor was so tiring that y/n caved when someone came in with a job offer. As much as she hated the French Laundry it graced her with a different type of freedom, the freedom to not worry about if she could afford to survive. 

She waited till The Beef closed to give them a call, and unsurprisingly someone picked up with a heavy sigh, “ We are closed.” and then hung up. Y/n dialed again, “I need to speak to Berzatto.”

“Yo Cousin, some chick is looking for you.” A muffled, we’re closed, was heard but y/n insisted.

“We worked together in the French L-.”

“She says she’s French or something.” And before y/n could correct, Carmen was handed the phone. 

“The fuck do you mean French?” Still arguing with the guy with a gruff voice.

“Maybe it's a "pro" you sobbed in front of in France, you virgin. I don’t know your fucking life.” 

“French Laundry.” Y/n interrupted and just like that Carmen was glued to the phone. 

“Y/n?” Y/n ignored that he was able to recognize her voice even after all this time and how that made her almost soften her voice. 

“I’m in Chicago for a few days, when can I stop by.” 

“You want to come?" Carmen hastily recovered, "You can come when you can but we are doing some renovations and it's a mess-'' 

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.” And with that y/n  hung up and emailed HR that she would be out for the week because she was sick. 

The Chicago air was unbearably similar to New York's and y/n was glad she didn’t have to spend too many miles on the same shitty city. And Carmen understated the “renovations”, it was a gut. The door scraped open dragging the paint cans that were leaning it. The door isn’t the working issue, it's the fact that the whole restaurant looked like it was on the verge of being classified as a collection of bare load bearing pillars and plastic tarp. Y/n was glad that she settled for sneakers because heels were begging for her to eat shit. 

“Ms. New York!” The man with a gruff voice yells with laced hostility, alerting everyone.

The echoing music was promptly shot off as curious onlookers tried to decipher why an unknown woman was waddling through a battlefield of loose nails and scattered sawdust.

Y/n didn’t have to look long before Carmen came tumbling out the kitchen door, looking at her like she was glowing. Y/n wordlessly walked over to him and extended her hand and much to her shock the shake was firm, eager even, the last time they shook hands was when y/n had to take a photo with him 3 years ago for Gastronomica. Y/n was the first to slip her hand away, not remarking on his softened calluses, it seems like he hadn’t done much cooking lately. 

Carmen ushered them towards the kitchen and held the door open for her, the room was empty and oddly quiet. They were holding the work outside so they could hear what they assumed would be confessions and passionate love making. 

Carmen probably sensed it too because he took them to what looked like the skeletons of an office. 

They both stood against the wall on completely opposite ends, their words would have to fill the gap. Carmen parted his lips a few times trying to formulate what he practiced last night but all the words seemed to die in his throat. His staggered inhale was followed by a soft, “What brings you here? I mean I’m glad you're here-”

“I wanted to know what you were up to.” Y/n twirled a strand of hair, looking into his eyes trying to relearn him again. 

Carmen’s breath stalled as he fiddled with his apron to avoid eye contact. “I’m running this place now so-” Carmen’s eyebrows furrowed, “How did you know where I was?”

“I saw the restaurant in a blog and thought I would….” Y/n noticed him deflate, trying to figure out from disappointment or finally relaxing. 

“I thought I would get something to eat but it seems like…” Y/n waved her hands at the bare walls, “That's not gonna happen.” She let out a soft chuckle but was a bit peeved that Carmen wasn’t doing anything but staring at her. 

Y/n crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, Carmen sighed and thumped his head softly on the wall behind him. Being across from him, gave y/n a familiar view of Carmen at the end of shift, pitiful and enervated. Y/n didn’t fail to notice that his arms had gotten bigger.

“Manual labor suits you.” Carmen let out an embarrassed but bemused “ha” as he failed to stop his lips from curling up. 

“Yeah, I have to do a lot by myself. Don’t exactly have the funds to be hiring a million contractors to do shit.”

“How do you afford all this?” Y/n lifted her gaze and tried to not look too eager. 

"A ton of loans. We're barely holding it together," he admitted with a soft chuckle, passing some papers to y/n. As he continued, Carmen listed the financial burdens on his shoulders, payroll for the chefs, government permits, contractors, vendors, appliance suppliers,each itemized until it culminated in a big, fat, red zero that highlighted the crushing reality of y/n's shattered dreams. There was no money left; they couldn't afford to keep her. The devastating truth settled in, she couldn't afford to work here, and Carmen couldn't afford to save her. 

Carmen walked over to the desk between them before plopping on his chair and balanced his head on his right fist as he looked up to y/n.

“What are you doing right now?” Carmen asked, the new view let him see more of y/n, which she didn’t know if she liked.

“I'm still at the French Laundry, it pays the bills, Carmen.” The air stilled and all the oxygen in his lungs contracted in his lungs as his name echoed in the otherwise silent room. He wasn’t Berzatto anymore. Y/n’s small smirk was enough of a reaction for Carmen to solidify that he had no clue about the women in front of him. 

As she basked in the lull, she extended her leg to stretch them out to, noticing that it wouldn’t take much effort for her to put her foot on one of the legs of his chair and roll him closer. Y/n wasn’t without decency so she resisted messing with Carmen anymore. She was being stupid and immature, it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t help her, but a part of her still yearned to inflict some measure of discomfort on him.

“Enough about me…what have you been up to?” He was finally worth talking to, y/n thought. He would finally have something of value that she couldn’t get out of any other seasoned chef, a spark behind his eyes. Maybe there was something else that gave him the power to come here, something that could move her too. 

“I'm taking over the restaurant from my brother and we are remodeling and shit to make it…a spot.” He realized how stupid he sounded when he said it outloud. 

Y/n’s lips quivered downward, he was taking over a family obligation. He didn’t unlock any of the universe’s secrets that he could share with her, that would make the road ahead clear. He really couldn’t help her. The crushing feeling in her chest was worsened when he carelessly tossed out, “You could work here, ya know?”

A pile of bills at home dared her to throw caution to the wind and fail spectacularly. Y/n shut down any part of her that could have been swayed and diverted instead.

“What are you serving?” 

“You would be head chef, y/n.” Carmen's intense gaze made her look at him in bewilderment.

“It’s not a good fit.” Y/n pressed with a self-assured chuckle.

“Syd would be number 2 and I can focus on the business shit-” 

Y/n wasn’t going to justify his ridiculous proposition with a response, so she gave him a pointed look before asking a final time, “What are you serving?”

“Whatever I want.” His eyes focused on y/n’s, almost daring her to be enticed by the freedom.

Y/n's stomach somersaulted. The room around them seemed to close in as the weight of the unknown pressed against her. Y/n grappled with the question of what she had truly come for. The initial curiosity about his past now collided with the reality that the person standing before her was somehow a deity that had broken free from the shackles of depriving the self from freedom but also a mortal with dangerous arrogance that she couldn’t replicate. 

“You finished the menu?” 

Carmen nodded as his eyes wrinkled.

“Show me the menu.” 

“You’ll see it on opening night.” Carmen leaned back in self-assurance.

“I won’t be back.” Y/n briskly asserted as she went back to twirling her hair and crossing her arms.

Y/n heard a chuckle and a soft, “Doubtful”. Just as she lifted her head to argue, the words were gone and so was Carmen, who was at the door now, holding it open for her.

“You're the worst, you know that?” She presented him with a vicious side eye. “I came all the way to the menu, you know.” That wasn’t remotely true.

“You can see the kitchen.” His hand hovered over the small of her back before catching himself and slipping his hand back down. 

Carmen gave a run down on where the stove would go in relation with the expo, being mindful of speed but also spatial restriction. Y/n walked with him wondering if she would care enough about the minutia to organize a restaurant from the ground up like this. Her fingertips grazed the silver gas stove, teh cool metal brought back memories of working in LA. His expo covered in plastic wrap was the exact one she saw in her first internship. And most damning of all, Carmen specially picked out everything; so just like y/n, he had a story to tell with each piece. 

His eyes shimmered as he talked about not beating his time around the kitchen yet, and y/n felt her stomach roll over as a wave of… something rolled over her. 

Eventually, Carmen led her out to the front where she talked about table choices and the lighting to match, her eye’s glazed in wonderment wondering if the version of Carmen that cared about interior design was always a part of him or if it was a new development. Just as she was about to ask, Richie interrupted her.

“We’ve held it long enough, I think we would ALL love to know who you are.” He spread out his arms and nodded like a politician who was, “asking the real questions”. Y/n went from floating around the kitchen to being slammed shut in a bird cage. 

“Ms. New York didn’t give it away?” Y/n replied, doing her best to ignore the nagging whispers in her head telling her she wasn't wanted here. 

“Then why are you here?” He challenged right back, pointing an accusatory finger at her before migrating it to Carmen, “Why is she here?” The urge to run away tugged at her, to a place where it didn't matter if people liked her.

Carmen squinted his eyes before letting out an exasperated sigh, y/n could tell he was used to Richie��s machinations. Looks like the three of them didn’t know why y/n was here.

“Just ignore him, that's Tina..” pointing at an older woman who looked like she was just about to leave. 

“..Nat” was buried in a binder but her head still shot up and smiled which y/n politely reciprocated.

“.. and Syd '', who looked pissed that y/n was here, y/n looked at her hands clasping a notebook. Recipes…a menu…y/n tucked her lips to hide her laugh, they didn’t have a menu to show and she had interrupted their brainstorming session. Y/n made a mental note that Carmen wrinkled his eyes when he lied.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and I'm just about to leave.” She walked towards the exit, not failing to notice that Carmen was in hot pursuit.

It didn’t take a genius to know he was going to offer her a ride so she beat him to it, “I’ve taken enough of your time.” 

And just as Carmen was about to say something, Y/n hid her disappointment with a  smirk, “I’ll let you get back to making that menu.” Y/n caught a quick glimpse of shock before the door swung open and she walked the Chicago streets wondering if she got what she was looking for. 

This place wasn’t for her at all, and no amount of small town romance novels could convince her to leave her cushy job with a bunch of pompous clowns for a DIY restaurant. Her heart quickened as she allowed herself to be momentarily seduced by the idea, only to shatter any hopeful illusions with the harsh reality that Carmen couldn't rescue her from her financial nightmare. She needed a paycheck, a big one, and Carmen couldn't give it to her; he could barely afford the stove he wanted. It was almost cruel to give her a taste, let her acquire it, and then realize that she couldn’t have it. 

Y/n went back to her hotel and had the difficult choice between watching Pawnshop or Diners, Drivers and Dives when she got a text message from an unknown number. 

I’m off tomorrow, let me take you somewhere other than a construction site. 

Y/n let herself have one last taste of freedom and dialed the number, “Who’s this?” she asked to tease Carmen.

She could hear Carmen’s grin loud and clear as he gave her a soft, “The worst person ever.”

Y/n laid flat on her bed and made herself forget that he didn’t have a backbone, that he ran away without a word like a coward, and (most damning to her) he couldn’t save her. She pushed the part of her that screamed that she should run away before they realized they didn’t fit because right now, she wasn’t talking to Berzatto. He was Carmen. He had dreams and aspirations that were bigger than him or maybe just as big as him. He was working hard and confident; everything else he wasn't in New York.  

As she confirmed a good time for tomorrow, she sat up on her bed as she said her goodbye.

“Have a good night, Carmen.”

Y/n had trouble falling asleep that night. 

**

The week had reached its end a lot quicker than y/n thought it would. Before she knew it she had repacked her life back into her suitcase and was sitting at her gate waiting for boarding to start. 

Y/n had her legs propped up on her carry-on, balancing an egregiously priced coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It’s not like the book was any good, it was an autobiography about a famous chef who had died of cancer. She recalled her outing with Carmen a few days prior.

The pans that y/n had to use in her shitty old apartment were non-stick because she couldn’t afford the non-cancer kind till after she graduated from the CIA. She remembered joking with her classmates about it while they were learning how to take apart a chicken, and everyone gasped in disgust. Y/n gave a careless grin while hiding her warming cheeks and mentally punching herself for even saying that out loud. 

Her birthday came around and all of her classmates pitched in for a set of pans, non-stick pans. She laughed with her friends, went home and invited them for dinner made entirely from the pans and watched as they ate their dishes, nodding in pretentious considerment, not knowing it was made on Teflon and wondered if this is how that guy who served his customers human meat felt. 

Y/n told the story to Carmen during their lunch at a Korean restaurant and felt a surge run through her as he met her eyes and instead of laughing at what was meant to be a humorous story and mumbled, “That was shitty.”

Y/n’s lips parted as her eyebrows furrowed in anger and, more embarrassingly, shame. 

Before she could defend herself, Carmen added, “I wouldn’t call those friends.” 

He played with the condensation on his glass, y/n knew better to look down at him playing with the wetness with his pointer and thumb. 

“That’s how it is there. How was your first week here?” Y/n sipped her soup.

“I lost my knife, found it beat up on the floor. I would have quit if I could.” Carmen gave a soft chuckle and y/n hated that she wanted to know more about him. 

“Which knife?”

“It was the Yoshimi.” 

Y/n quirked her lips up, “I remember when you first got it.” Carmen looked up quizzically.

“It was a shit show.” The head chef was not in a good mood and Carmen pulled up, with a pep in his step and a new knife, begging to be shot down. Honestly, y/n was surprised that Carmen didn’t kill anyone that day. 

Y/n’s flight had started boarding so she threw all of her stuff in her bag while fishing for her passport. In her hustle she missed her phone vibrating till she was in her seat trying to catch her breath from shoving her overloaded carry-on in the ever shrinking compartment. 

You got on yet?

Just sat down, TSA sucks ass, might have to start working out bc im winded rn.

Have a safe flight. 

Y/n finally made it home and just as she was about to pass out, she quickly texted a picture of her exhausted face with a cringy thumbs up, she would regret that in the morning. 

Y/n fell right back into her regular rhythm, with two new additions. She had started running in the morning. The other thing was a new pen pal, of sorts. 

They tried texting more regularly for the first few weeks but their schedules were too different so they had simplified it to a photo every few days. 

The Bear  

Y/n got the photo on her train ride home after months of “talking”, a picture of a decal on the restaurant window, y/n didn’t miss Carmen’s furrowed eyebrows and grimace from having to be out in the sun to take the picture. His reflection exposed his paint stained t-shirt and y/n rubbed her eyes to check that his arms had in fact gotten bigger. 

Y/n sent out the first actual text message in months, Why The Bear?

She saw the bubbles disappear and reappear a few time before settling on,

Come and find out

Y/n snickered and the women sitting next to her gave her a side eye as she got up to leave. 

I don’t want to install appliances or check the plumbing for free. 

Carmen texted back uncharacteristically fast, maybe they had shot down texting too soon. 

“Don't want to” or “don’t know how to”?

Y/n squinted her eyes, he should believe her even if she was lying. She texted a middle finger back. You should be so lucky to see my trade skills in action, I could have been your contractor and it's sexist that you think otherwise.  

I’ll settle with you coming by as a guest.

Y/n called him, it was a split second decision that she didn’t have time to regret. He picked up just as quickly as she called. 

“I’m not coming back if you guys are still building shit.” Y/n asserted as she unlocked her front door. 

“We finished that a while ago, now it's real shit this time.” There was faint rustling in the background and what y/n could decipher as yelling. 

“Yeah?”

“We're missing some stuff, repair guys to call, and we still have some vendors to deal with but doors open in a few weeks.”

Y/n giggled, “Sounds like you're cutting it close, Carmen.” There was rustling heard on the other end, “You can probably get all that shit done with time to spare if you don’t get distracted.”

A laugh erupted from the other end, Richie’s. 

“He’s plenty distracted, got himself a girlfriend.” Y/n stomach fell to her ass as she stood in her kitchen with her work bag still slung on her shoulders.

“Really?” she croaked out. Richie must have slapped Carmen on the back because she heard him slap Richie back. 

“Ignore him. Doors open on the 1st.” The line stayed quiet for a second. 

“I’ll see if I can make it, but you know it gets.” Y/n wasn’t going to make it, she was taking it out of the calendar right now.

A door closed on his end and the line was disconnected. 

Before y/n could chuck her phone at her couch and sleep off her day, it rang again. Facetime. 

Y/n picked up and was met with a new setting. Carmen noticed her slight confusion. 

“New office, what do you think?” He propped his phone up and angled his body so she would see his fully stocked bookshelf. If y/n didn’t know any better she would have assumed that he was trying to impress her. 

“Dewey Decimal?”

“Alphabetical.” He pulled out a book and showed her the self-made label on the bottom that proved that it was in fact in alphabetical order. 

Y/n let herself be a bit difficult, “Your handwriting leaves something to be desired.”

Carmen covered his smirk with his tattooed hand before locking into her eyes,”Why don’t you come over and help me out?”

Y/n almost let herself fold before recollecting herself, “Unless you plan on working part time for our HR department, I don’t see that PTO being approved.”

“Sick days?” 

“Why don’t you come back to New York. Wanna slice oranges for our tarte á l’orange? Maggie misses you.” Y/n was referring to the kitchen’s pastry chef who didn’t miss Carmen in the slightest. 

“Are you opening a restaurant?” Y/n was a bit floored that she was getting sass from a man who put his jeans in an oven and shirts in kitchen cupboards. 

“Are you? Looks like your team thinks you're distracted? If I didn’t know any better I would say you're calling me to distract yourself from calling the repair guy.” 

“He can wait… tell me what I have to do to make this happen.”

“I took a week off, and we live in a capitalist hellscape so I already used up my PTO for the year. Don’t worry, I’ll make it to the next one.”

“You think I'm good enough to franchise.” Carmen ran his hands through his hair as he laughed and y/n cheeks warmed as his shirt slightly lifted as he leaned back.  

“No, when this one fails and you have to make it another Mcdonalds.” Carmen gave her an adoring smile that made her wonder if he heard something else. 

He put his right leg on his knee and spun in his chair, thinking. 

“It’s better if I don’t come, what if your team hates me or worse they love me, force me to be their leader, and kick you to the sidelines.”

“I can be on the sidelines for you.” Y/n ignored the fluttering in her stomach. 

“I’ll see…”She offered.

Carmen let out a sigh and y/n almost felt bad but the distance was good. They didn’t work together anymore, they texted irregularly, they barely were face to face, and it was working for them. 

She was forgetting the man who froze like a battered dog when she was being shredded in the kitchen, and she could forgive him for being selfish because now he was too far away for it to affect her. Closing the gap risked her relearning why she didn’t get close to him in the first place.  

His lips parted like he was constructing the words.

“What?” Y/n was just about ready to hang up and get ready for bed. 

“I just…I don’t know. I thought that I could…you would see something different.”

“It’s a restaurant, I've seen plenty of those.” 

“It’s different, I swear. I worked hard on shit and it's new and different. It's …better.” A chef analogizing his restaurant to represent himself was so unoriginal y/n would have laughed in their faces if it wasn’t Carmen.

“I’ll save you a table.” He offered.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of tables to save.” Carmen quirked up his eyebrows.

“Your sister s, Sydney’s dad, Richie’s friends, me. Are there going to be any tables left for customers?”

“I need them all there, y/n.” He didn’t need to say her name but it still reverberated inside of her sending a shiver down her spine. In response, y/n felt a warm wave of relief wash over her, knowing that she couldn’t quite explain why that felt good to hear.

“I'm nobody.” Y/n squinted her eyebrows in doubt. 

There's a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he's been searching for something that y/n couldn’t figure out, “You saw me in New York and here so you're the only person who can compare the two. I don’t have anyone like that left.” Carmen rounded his eyes in closeted adoration and y/n’s throat closed up.

“I’ll see what I can do but no promises. I have to go… don’t forget to call the fridge guy.”

Y/n was a strong independent woman who built her own furniture, threw out her own trash, and even back out by putting an arm around the passage seat headrest so when she got an email the next day with tickets to Chicago, her head began to swim.

Her phone buzzed, Meet me halfway.

Y/n left him on read and gave herself the freedom that Carmen had unknowingly denied her. 

–

Birthdays were never y/n’s favorite holiday, she didn’t bother taking the day off and she stopped telling people since her CIA days, so she felt a little disgusted when grown adults would make a whole situation about this day. Celebrating birthdays in a restaurant was annoying for the kitchen but celebrating management’s family birthdays made y/n nearly quit every year. 

It came around like clock work, just as she forgot about it, her boss's friend's (or whoever) birthday would roll around and she had to remind herself that the only reason she still had a job here was because she didn’t break down in hysterics and the only reason she stayed was because the bill wouldn’t stop just because she disliked her job. 

It had already been a month since she and Carmen last spoke, they went back to curt messages. Y/n couldn’t help herself from texting back even though she knew better. The last message was a picture of Carmen in front of a finished kitchen, he puckered his lips to hide the full grin and seeing such joy, even if it was from a photo, was infecting every corner of her mind. 

The week was just as difficult as it always was, and the last thing y/n wanted to do was a large dinner like this but it was like the universe wanted to beat her numb. 

Y/n forgot to mention that the HVAC system had gone down for the afternoon and it was still over 100 degrees in the kitchen. As she chopped some chives, she ignored the expo coughing, and she walked over her collapsed body when expo inevitably passed out, to grab some more butter from the walk-in.

Y/n stole a glance from the corner of her eyes, they had no expo and a full house. Y/n puckered her lips in hidden contentment when the head chef practically roared and the unconscious women to get up and y/n swallowed a laugh when he had enough and started to manage the expo. 

Y/n’s eyes darted to her left and finally felt that Carmen wasn’t working there. He had long been replaced, twice over, and y/n went back to her foie gras terrines trying to figure out why it even mattered now. 

As orders were being barked and a rehearsed chorus of, “Chef” played back, y/n stalled her knife noticing that the pitch was off. It was missing the bass of a chef that had left just about everything to run away and was trying to convince her to do the same.

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE CONSOMME FOR 14?” 

For the first time in years, y/n flinched. It wasn’t noticeable barring the fact that her little jump made her slice her finger. Her breath picked up as the blood pooled over the chives, she grabbed her cutting board and dumped the herbs in the trash and grabbed another board. She pressed the kitchen towel deeper into her finger, trying to remember where the first aid kit was from her orientation week. 

Just as y/n was about to run to the stove to cauterize the wound herself so she could keep working, someone grabbed her arm and handed her a bandaid. She looked up to give them a silent thank you but they were gone. She hastily wrapped herself up and tried to lean inconspicuously on the counter because heat was getting to her too. 

A few minutes later when by and y/n had fallen back to her usual rhythm even as a waiter walked in, she had learned to ignore waitstaff when they entered the kitchen because they never brought good news. Y/n could feel a piercing glare on her back.

“You sent out a Coq au Vin, chef?” Y/n didn’t have to look up to know he was talking to her but she still met his searing glare.

“15 minutes ago, chef.” Y/n resisted wiping the bead of sweat that was torturously grazing down her face.

He stared her down like he was waiting for her to admit that she had actually eaten it, she kept her nose high and bit her tongue to stifle the grimace that was forming. 

“It's missing.” An ugly pause passed throughout the kitchen, she had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t actually finished it but the shift in his gaze brought her back to reality, he remembered her bringing it to him. 

In the smelting kitchen, in her cramped corner, with her chef whites sticking to her, she almost let this pathetic man think he knew more than her.

The command echoed out of her before she could contain herself, “Refiring the coq au vin.”

A familiar chorus of, “Chef” was missing its usual thoughtlessness, y/n wasn’t supposed to do anything till the head chef told her, she had given herself a command, it was sacrilege. 

Y/n was never a target, she watched as others were shot down time and time again, and moved on when she saw them break down crying in the middle of a dinner rush. The most she could give them was aloofness but as she stood in her corner, drowning in orders, and having every single one sent back from expo to redo, or having to wait longer for plates then everyone else and getting reamed for her dishes coming in late, she felt the weight of the kitchen’s gaze on her shoulders and wished someone one was there for her.

She kept her face composed as she finished up the last of her orders, her vision swaying from dehydration. Just as she was about to give into the weightlessness, the clock struck midnight and the kitchen was officially closed. 

She did her best to walk to her locker, and sat on a chair with her head in her hands wondering how she was getting out the door, let alone go home. Her phone buzzed in her lap and knew that it was Carmen. His restaurant was opening tomorrow and she didn’t want to hear about it right now. 

 The rest of the chefs filed out, each giving her a glance that told her that she had finally been properly assimilated, just five years too late. 

Carmen was giving her a taste of freedom in Chicago and that fleeting freedom was too seductive to ignore. The job offer echoed in y/n head, she wasn’t a good fit with them, she didn’t want a “work family”, but the temptation was poisoning her. 

She opened the text, it was a simple picture of Carmen in his chef whites, he was practicing the “look” the day before the restaurant opened. He had even slicked his hair back with pomade like he used to in New York, and for the first time in months she laughed.

The sips of warm gatorade had sobered her up enough to walk out, just barely missing the head chef on her way out the door. She performed a blasphemous act in the back of the uber, she opened the email that Carmen had sent a month ago and checked the tickets date and time. Tomorrow morning, and like the universe was giving back after being shitty today, the French Laundry was closed for the next few days.

Y/n got home, ate two day old Thai food, sat on her couch astounded by her sheer audacity as she checked in for her flight. She was sure that Carmen would have gotten the confirmation email by now but he did her the service of not mentioning it.

Y/n packed a carry-on early in the morning and got to the airport, each checkpoint moving much faster than usual. The TSA didn’t make her take off her shoes, her gate was super close, and they had upgraded her to first class because a couple wanted to sit together. All the stars were pointing to Chicago…to Carmen and she tried not to think about how she was running away from her problems just like he did. 

As she reached her hotel room, she hesitated to text Carmen. Nothing felt right to say, so she gave him the best thing right now, some space. She busied herself with getting ready and watching the shopping network.

As y/n approached the restaurant, she was a bit taken aback that the line was still so long. She stood next to an elderly couple who were talking about mortgage rates going down which meant that another housing bubble was bound to burst and the economy would be in shambles. Y/n tried not to think about how she couldn’t afford to lose her job right now because she had nowhere else to go.

No special treatment tonight, Carmen wouldn’t know when she got here so he could focus on his own work. She entered the restaurant and was relieved that the host and the waitstaff were new. She was led to her table and hesitated to pick up the menu. This was a long time coming and opening it felt so empty. It was like when she submitted her last assignment for highschool, alone on a Thursday night wondering why something so big wasn’t registering. 

As she digested the menu, she let her fingers trace over the faux leather and the brown stitching. She wanted to know why he chose brown stitching, or why he stuck with Seven Fishes despite the fact that he must have made it a million times in the French Laundry? Why did he choose certain wines, or why was there a donut on the menu? 

It's not like she hated the menu but a horrible thought dawned on her that all she wanted right now was for Carmen to sit across from her and talk about everything that she had missed. Every detail of this restaurant that reflected a better him, and how she had so much more to learn.

Her phone burned on her lap but she didn’t text him. Instead, she watched the people murmur about work and the food and y/n couldn’t help but hate herself for her self imposed loneliness. 

Y/n did herself a disservice by coming towards the end of the shift so the crowd was thinning and her cover was close to being blown. Her dish arrived and she didn’t need to walk into the kitchen to know that Carmen made this, after years of taste testing his food, his flavor was ingrained in her DNA. Y/n finished her bucatini and felt compelled to order another despite being stuffed, just to swirl the flavor around her tongue for a bit longer. She ordered the aforementioned donut, paid and left. 

She stood in the crisp Chicago air, a few steps from the restaurant, grappling with the audacity that led Carmen to abruptly leave the French Laundry. Immaturely, she couldn't help but wonder why he got to leave and she couldn’t. She knew why, but she let herself fester in the pain, it kept her alive. 

She was used to being alone but for the first time in her life she yearned for someone to be there for her. She had isolated herself to such an extent that she knew that right now no one knew where she was or what she was doing, even Carmen couldn’t be sure that she actually went on the flight.

She could hear the last of the customers file out and the bussers clearing tables. She felt her phone vibrate and took a few breaths before she picked it up.

How was the bucatini?

Y/n lips waivered and a pit dug itself in her chest as she tried to compose herself, but she felt her eyes watering. This wasn’t fair, he wasn’t playing fair. 

She hid her face in her hands, and tried to regain some of her dignity.

 She stood there for what felt like a few seconds and felt someone stand next to her followed by the familiar sound of a lighter. 

Y/n bit her lips shut and stared ahead, knowing that she was stronger than this.

“I didn’t take you for the donut type.” Carmen said in between puffs, he had changed into more casual clothes.

Y/n inhaled deeply through her nose and put her arms down, the night has hidden any trace of her vulnerability. “I wanted to try something different.” Y/n tried to put more power behind her voice but it came out too soft for her liking.

Carmen studied her profile and y/n knew better than to turn away, so she faced him. Her moist eyes turned his eyes into a kaleidoscope of silvers, blues and gold. 

“How did you know I was in the restaurant?” Y/n was relieved that she was able to get it all out before her voice cracked.

A silence passed through them and y/n wished they were doing this somewhere more private. 

He gave her a look, I know you.

The air hung heavy with tension as Y/n responded to Carmen's humored dismissive look. "You don't know shit,", a sardonic smile playing on her lips. She nonchalantly extended her hands toward Carmen's cigarette, a move that seemed almost too casual for the charged atmosphere. She was reaching out for the small remnants of warmth that she knew she would lose in a few hours, because right now and right here, he was there for her.

Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a subtle yet palpable connection that lingered in the air. It was a moment that could have easily been avoided, but neither of them seemed willing to retreat. 

As the smoke curled around Y/n, she maintained a facade of cool composure, seemingly unfazed by the intimacy of the shared smoke. It was as if the brief touch and the exchange of breath and saliva meant nothing more to her than the inhale and exhale of the smoke itself. The proding sense of sadness thumping in the back of her head telling her that this couldn’t last, they couldn’t last. 

“I liked the food.” Y/n returned the cigarette. “It's different…better.”

Carmen looked at her like he had a million questions that he wanted to ask and y/n wondered if she was giving him the same look. 

She leaned back, “Don’t you have an alley or something? Smoking out front is so highschool.”

“Syd threw up in the alley.” 

Y/n raised an eyebrow and wondered if this is how far they would go, she would have savored him for a moment longer if she knew it was going to end so soon.

Carmen stood straight and tilted his head so she would follow him. 

“They cleaned up fast.” Y/n marveled at the vacant restaurant, the lights were dimmed and Carmen led her to the office. 

“I think they wanted to get out of here before the last train left.” Carmen held the door open for her and the familiar heat of his hand hovering over the small of her back was a welcomed surprise.

Despite the practicality of the situation, the impending departure and the need for a clean, cold goodbye, there was a lingering question of whether she could maintain that distance. Carmen's proximity, the heat of his touch, and the shared space was going to make it challenging to stick with a clinical farewell.

The door clicked shut and y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“Do your worst. I can take it, y/n.” Carmen sighed, y/n’s stomach fluttered and she dug her nails into her palms to compose herself. 

“Service was good, the waiter filled up my cup when it was halfway. The silverware was clean and rolled tight. Points off because my fork was from a different manufacturer from the rest of the dinnerware.” Y/n saw Carmen clench up for a second before nodding in concentration. It felt as if each syllable was being burned into his memory and the intensity of his gaze was making her sweat.

She gave herself the satisfaction of sitting because her feet were killing her and Carmen sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. 

“The saltiness of the guanciale harmonizes with the richness of the eggs and the sharpness of the Pecorino Romano. The dish was velvety but delicate. The guanciale provides a necessary contrast in texture. Simple but precise. I think…I know that it was the best thing I’ve had in a while, chef.” 

Yn was met with a humming silence. 

“We can do this tomorrow, I know you had a long day.” Y/n offered.

“No…” He shook his head and his eyes were distant before landing on her’s, the severity behind them had made her sit back, “I want to hear what you have to say.”

She extended her legs towards Carmen, “You see these, chef?” Carmen hesitated to look forward like he was in the middle century and ankles were scandalous before gazing at her soft legs.

“They hurt like a motherfucker.” She flexed the back of her heel to show the blisters that had formed. “I gotta take care of this back in the hotel.” 

Carmen slowly shifted his gaze from her legs to her face before wordlessly getting up and walking out. Y/n rubbed her temple and allowed herself to be selfish once more by downing Carmen’s abandoned sugar free Redbull left on the desk.

As she collected her stuff to get back to the hotel, Carmen returned with ice and first aid. 

He placed everything on the floor so slowly that y/n could only assume that he was stalling. 

Carmen looked up at her with his bright, almost silver, eyes and his eyes asked, Can I help you? Can I be there for you like you were here for me today?

It was like time had stopped as y/n struggled to bring oxygen to her lungs. She mindlessly nodded yes and the first touch made her heart thump against her chest. His hands were scorching against her skin and every lingering touch imprinted its memory on to her. As he iced the swelling and followed it by placing his warm hand to ease the shock in temperature, it became hard for y/n to focus.

Carmen did her the courtesy of abandoning the ice pack. She took a hollow and staggered breath, “Ask me anything.” 

Carmen looked up from her, she hadn’t noticed that he had removed her heels, and asked her about every minor detail about her experience. He wasn’t aware that he was softly rubbing his thumb across her ankle, and y/n couldn't seem to move on from it. 

When y/n finished her summary, Carmen’s fingers seized dancing across her skin and she regretted not talking for longer. 

He didn’t let his hand leave her even as he asked, “How is work?”

Y/n grunted out in dismay and she leaned back and would have fallen backwards if Carmen hadn’t grabbed the seat between her legs. They both stared at his hand before Carmen quickly pulled back, y/n mumbled a quick thanks. 

“It’s great.” Y/n sarcastically pushed. 

Carmen quirked up his eyebrows in a sarcastic manner and y/n ignored him. 

“It was Henry’s birthday.” Carmen hummed in understanding, birthdays were always a mess.

“You wouldn’t guess who was doing the expo yesterday.” 

“I have an idea.” Y/n couldn’t deny that his smirk sent her spinning. He understood the fiber of that world so well even though he was hundreds of miles away, and she was barely hanging on to a tread. 

Carmen continued, “Feel bad for the poor bastard who was his punching bag for the night.”

Y/n swallowed the burning lump in the back of her throat and kept her gaze relaxed and gave him a soft, “Yeah.”

The silence was making y/n uncomfortable so she mustered her remaining energy to give him a relaxed smile. 

Carmen’s face didn’t give anything away, “How bad was he?”

“I'm here, aren’t I?” Y/n chuckled humorlessly. 

“I know you're strong but I was being serious, y'know…about the job.” Carmen asserted.

Y/n softened her eyes, he was making this so much harder for her. “Noted, chef. Why Chicago?” Y/n diverted.

“Inherited the restaurant from my brother and I had to deal with it. He killed himself.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“It’s fine, I was going to have to tell you anyway.” Y/n didn’t have to know anything, she was no one and she didn’t deserve his trust. “It was a sandwich place before we renovated it.”

Y/n laughed in disbelief, “You made sandwiches? They sell truffles in Chicago?”

Carmen smirked as he went back to mindlessly rubbing her ankle again. “Regular sandwiches.”

Y/n widened her eyes and couldn’t hold her laughter in, “Pictures or it didn’t happen.” 

Carmen fished out his phone and showed her pictures of a messier restaurant.

“I get why you had to gut the place.”

“It's not that bad.” He asked humorously. 

“What you have right now is more your style, I like this version better.” Y/n heart skipped a beat when his hand shifted a bit higher up her leg. 

“I love the look though,” Y/n squinted at a picture of Carmen standing behind a counter at what looked like a bachelor party. 

“What look?”

“You know, the rugged, tired look.” Carmen rolled his eyes. “No seriously, I didn’t even know you had so much ink.” Y/n zoomed in on a tattoo of some numbers on his biceps. 

“I'll show you all of them later.” Y/n let out a laugh as she handed back the phone. She wondered if she was hiding her nerves well. 

"You spend all your time at work, when do you find the time to sit in a tattoo shop?"

"Prioritizing important shit, I guess."

"If you can prioritize getting tattoos and running a restaurant, when do you have time for your girlfriend?" Subtle, passive, non-probing was what y/n was going for. She forced herself to watch his reaction.

Carmen gave a puzzled look, his scrunched up eyebrows and distant look was accompanied with a quiet, "Don't have one."

Y/n gave a casual "Hmm…you sure? Seems like you got time to kill, always so relaxed." Carmen curled his lips up and bit his lips to stifle his smile. His lips turned pale pink before returning to rose red and y/n wanted to reach down and run her pointer finger along his lips to feel his heat.

"When I have the time. The restaurant is new and I need-"

"I thought you said you knew how to prioritize?" Y/n leaned back and rested her cheek on her fist. 

"Maybe if she's really special."

"And not distracting." Y/n added.

"Then I can prioritize." Carmen adjusted his posture before asking y/n.

"What about you?"

"I am a realistic romantic, so love is real but just not for me. I don't have it in me to text everyday or go to family dinners. But who knows, Mr. Right might make me less shitty and more sunshine and rainbows. "

"Your personality is fine right now." Carmen offered. 

Y/n jokingly scoffed before adding, "Then maybe I just need someone to distract from my own problems."

They sat in comfortable silence, but y/n’s eyes widened as she checked the clock, “It’s late.”

“It’s only one.” Y/n gave him a look of disapproval before nudging her foot against his stomach, where it had been resting for the past hour. 

“Go home, Carmen.” Carmen wordlessly picked up her heels and slipped them back on to her feet. He stood up and offered his hand. 

They walked out the restaurant and y/n pulled out her phone to call a taxi.

“I can drive you.”

Y/n looked over her shoulder at Carmen checking the locks. 

“If you drive me, you won't be getting any sleep.” A pause passed through them.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Y/n rushed out. 

Carmen cleared his throat, preserved her dignity by not saying anything else and led her to the car. 

“You know these things will kill you.” Y/n lifted a Red Bull from the cup holder and cracked it open and took a few healthy sips. 

Carmen wordlessly slipped the can out of her hands at a red light, “I need it more than you.” He looked down at the lipstick mark and took a few savored sips. At the next light, y/n could see the remnants of red lipstick on his bottom lip. 

They reached y/n’s hotel too fast for each other's liking. Y/n swiveled her head, Carmen was already looking at her. She was fighting heavy lids a few minutes ago but now she was sprung with energy. 

Y/n looked up in feinted innocence before casually offering, “You want to come up for some tea?” The kettle in her room didn’t work, she checked this morning.

Carmen blinked a few times, wondering if he heard her right, before slowly nodding his head like he wasn’t sure it was a joke. 

She unlocked her room door for the both of them and Carmen shut it behind him. With a cautious gesture, y/n extended her hand, placing it close to Carmen's body. The darkness clung to Carmen's form as y/n's fingers grazed his side, a brief but intimate contact that went unnoticed in the dimly lit corridor, to check if the door was locked.

Carmen walked over to the office chair in the corner. Y/n room was so cramped that she was still within arms distance of him as she sat on the foot of her bed. 

“The Bear?” Y/n’s inquisitive gaze and playful smile made Carmen’s heart stutter as he nearly forgot what The Bear was, or what his name was. 

He cleared his throat, “Berzatto…Bear. It was a nick-name my brother gave me.” 

Y/n leaned in a bit closer as she scoffed, “Even the name is good. I kinda hate you a bit more.” She bit her bottom lip to stifle the laugh but was pleasantly surprised that he was bouncing from her eyes to her lips.

He parted his lips to formulate a coherent sentence but y/n extended her heels to the legs of Carmen’s chair and pulled him closer. The look of his thoughts scrambling right in front of her was making it difficult for her to be restrained and poised. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

His grip on the arms of the chair was telling her that she was headed in the right direction. She kept her hold on Carmen’s chair, as she softly assured, “I have to go back soon, so I’m trying to soak it all in right now.”

“You're leaving?” Carmen mumbled, sharing his attention between her eyes, lips, and her leg. He let his legs relax, which made them meet with y/n’s legs. 

“I hate Chicago.” Y/n leaned back. “And I don’t really belong here. My whole life is in New York, and I don’t want to change everything just for-.” 

“Come work for me-” 

A swift pang of anger rippled through her, he didn’t need her. “You’ve got your plate full, you don't need a distraction.”

“But you do.” Carmen placed a warm hand on her thigh and the heat made her breath heavy, y/n knew where this was going but she wanted it to last as long as it could because she knew that once the sun rose, they were done. 

“It’s going to be messy.” 

“It won't be.”

The room held its breath as they teetered on the edge of something undefined. The impending dawn loomed, casting a shadow on the delicate illusion they had woven. “I don’t want something serious.” Y/n argued. 

“And I dont have the time for something serious.” As Carmen leaned forward, pushing his hands high up her thigh. 

As y/n searched for any other reason no to do this, Carmen’s cerulean eye’s hazed with lust seemed to have the opposite effect. Any reservations, logic, or inhibitions that could have prompted her to stop were forcefully pushed away amidst the intoxicating allure of Carmen.

Y/n didn’t know who leaned in first but it didn’t take much time for both of them to topple in the bed. In between huffs and shirts flying off each other Carmen whispered into her lips, “Just pretend it’s real tonight.”

Y/n reeled her head back a second, but Carmen's intense gaze and his trailing hand convinced her otherwise. She leaned back in, hooking her legs around his waist pulling him closer.

Carmen stalled his kisses down the column of her throat, “I thought you wouldn’t come.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Y/n twisted her hips and in a flash she was straddling him.

She sensed the subtle shiver that ran through him, his unsteady hands finding a resting place on her hips, torn between the desire to reciprocate from below and allowing her to continue her torture. Taking charge, she decided for both of them, lowering herself down to grind against his jeans.

Carmen’s mind went blank and the last thing he saw before he lost all sense of restraint and reason, was y/n’s eyes sparkling. 

--

You can read more of my stuff here

End Notes:

I love reading your comments, and that's what motivated me to finish, so share your thoughts bc I want to hear them.

I currently have like 10 half baked drafts and they all suck so this was the sole survivor. This one is kinda self indulgent because I hate my job so much but sometimes no matter how much something makes you miserable, there isn’t a way out, so you have to find something to distract yourself from the dull pain. 

I tried to keep it as realistically healthy as a relationship with Carmen can be because that man just needs some space to grow. Honestly, I'm not sure if they'll ever meet again, or maybe they might meet up more now. Im really not sure.

[bmbochangetales]

Another meeting Ashley was on the sidelines for. She wanted to make sure she made a good impression even if she wasn’t involved. She had just graduated college and wanted to work her way up. She had been helping pass out papers and serve the members of the board.

She even pointed out to the Board President a valuable client opportunity in his files. When suddenly he commanded the attention of the other men.

“Gentlemen, what a waste of talent you have keeping Ms. Smith in this position!”

Finally, someone saw her talent and skills. This was looking good for her. The President saw that she was good at the job and could do so much in a higher position.

“I mean look at those milkers, obviously she is going to make one of you a very happy man.”

What was happening? Her boobs suddenly tripled in size. Her once demure button down now squeezed he boobs out on display for the men. Oh fuck. They were huge. Maybe this was a test though to see if she could handle boardroom talk. She just began to remove their cups and dishes.

“Did you see they was she cleared the table too? A tray full of coffee cups and plates from breakfast and she did it in heels and a skirt! A domestic goddess waiting!”

Her skirt shrunk and become a tight miniskirt. Her sensible pumps became sexy high heels. Her hair and make up overly done for a day at the office. She continued clearing the table showing off. Making sure to touch the gentlemen and show off her assets to the company.

“And just look at those hips. My wife popped out 6 healthy kids and Ms. Smith looks even more able. Think of how many times you could knock up a young thing like her.” He gave her ass a slap for emphasis. Ashley’s hips widened as her ass bounced out. Ashley saw all the eligible men in the room. She wouldn’t have time for a career supporting one of these sexy, smart men. She would do better at home, getting knocked up, taking care of their home, making sure they don’t have to worry about a thing especially with their stressful job, that she could barely understand. She was here to serve them coffee and pastries.

“I’m sure she would bring you lunch and those lips for a good afternoons blowjob.” He gave tits a good squeeze as she refreshed his coffee. She let out a long moan but kept doing her job. She imagined being under the desk deep throating a big cock as her husband kept working. Stopping only to spray cum down her throat. Then wobbling down the hallway showing off her big pregnant belly, as she went home to make him a dinner worth of a Michelin star.

“Who is taking this fine bimbo home gentlemen?” The president asked the board. There were murmurs of negotiation as the gentlemen pulled rank and status on each other. Well the men were busy arguing, the lowly mid level manager decided to do things more forward. He grabbed Ashley and bent her over the projector table. Her moans called all the men’s attention to their lost prize as their subordinate claimed her for himself. They all looked to the president as the manager emptied his balls into Ashley who was just letting everyone know what a slut she was.

“Hostile takeover style,” the president said, “that is the kind of men we need in leadership here. The bimbo is yours. Now let’s talk promotion.”

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻

My SydCarmy fics MASTERLIST

Carmen Berzatto just stood there in front of her and didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. -Copenhagen He was reduced to a bunch of boneless matter with a heartbeat that only existed because she laid her dark eyes on it. -Après ce, la liberté

At that moment, she realized that her favorite place on Earth was right there, standing 334 feet above the ground, nestled in his chest. -Ponte degli Innamorati

🐻 Slowburn >>> They win a Michelin Star and Carmy confesses his love for Sydney.

🐻 Larrabe >>> Syd moves to her own place, they win a Michelin star and “celebrate”. Luca and Claire also make an appearance here.

🐻 Pasta >>> Carmy & Syd cook together, then eat each other and then there’s this invisible string they discover has always linked them in a sense. Mikey is also mentioned here.

🐻 Heart >>> Carmy goes to therapy to get in touch with his true feelings and Syd tries to deny hers, which explains her ❤️ tattoo.

🐻 Hint >>> Claire reflects on her breakup with Carmy.

🐻 Sunset >>> Carmy must make a choice. Are actions ultimately more important than words?

🐻 Pillow >>> Syd and Carmy open their X files. Not what you think. Now part of a collection alongside "Chef Talk".

🐻 Après >>> Carmy hits rock bottom. Love is an act of mirroring.

🐻 Chef>>> Sydney realizes that Carmy has an uncanny resemblance to a celebrity who features in a steamy CK ad. Claire makes a brief cameo here because "maybe" she always falls for the wrong guy. Now part of a collection alongside "Pillow Talk".

🐻 Madame >>> Sydcarmy is written in the starts but they need a little nudge. Love is in the air but they're fire!

🐻 Stella >>> Stella Bear, the heiress, is here. Now part of a collection alongside "Madame Stardust".

🐻 Shark >>> They get married in secret and honeymoon in Barbados where she starts calling him "Bear".

🐻 Ponte >>> They renew their vows in Italy on their 1st Anniversary. Now part of a collection alongside "Shark Hole".

🐻 Focus>>> Sydney finds out Carmy has been drawing Sistine Chapel-level sketches of her.

🐻 Dreams >>> They have wet dreams about each other simultaneously.

🐻 Tucson >>> Carmy goes to rehab because he almost checks himself out of life permanently and learns to use his words, Syd grows too fond of this new Carmy.

🐻 She's not you >>> Claire was great and scared the shit out of Carmy, but she was no Sydney Adamu.

🐻 Beggin' >>> It's a pseudo-songfic, an experiment, a blurb, a rarity, a little cannoli with mortadella mousse and pistachios that links Carmy, Syd, Donna, and others to this song that I love because I feel it just fits.

🐻 Chococookies >>> Auntie Syd and Uncle Carmy babysit little Bianca and Carmy also babysits Syd when she has a severe case of baby blues 🍪🍪🍪

🐻 Sydney’s secret >>> Carmy holds on to one of Sydney’s most personal items and loses his mind, but turns out Syd had a different take on his “madness”.

🐻 Mother of Victory >>> Donna had to die. Austenianly, of course. Now part of a collection alongside "Chococookies".

🐻 The new Berzattos >>> Syd & Carmy are raising a new family, and now The Bear is gonna be a big brother to this new cub Syd is "cooking". Now part of a collection alongside "Mother of Victory".

🐻 Rain >>> Syd kisses the words right out of Carmy's mouth. Chococookies'prequel. Now part of a collection alongside "Mother of Victory". 🍸🍸

🐻 Last clause >>> Syd and Carmy get a divorce and she gets The Bear. The city of Love might play an important part here. Now part of a collection alongside "Sunset clause".

🐻 Every second counts >>> Victor Emmanuel Berzatto, "The Cub", thanks his parents for having taught him the most valuable lesson of them all. Now part of a collection alongside "Mother of Victory".

🐻 3:10 >>> Carmy pushes himself harder than ever and demands excellence from his crew, they do their best to match his intensity. He does this for Sydney and for Sydney only.

🐻 6 Letters >>> Syd and Carmy say the wrong names in bed when they are fucking their respective partners.

🐻 Play >>> Carmy gets too playful with Syd's braids ;)

🐻 Cupid >>> Syd breaks Cupid's heart 💔.

🐻 More often 🛋>>> Syd falls asleep on Carmy's new leather sofa and wakes up in his bed.

🐻 Unicorn >>> Uncle Carmy & Aunty Syd confess that they could potentially have a whole soccer team of kids if only they'd find the right "partner" to do that with 🦄

🐻 Copenhagen >>> Carmy fucks up big time, as usual, and Syd leaves him but comes back to him over and over, teaches him to speak again, nurses him back to life and Carmy fights her every step of the way because he feels he doesn't deserve her, but ultimately it's her call, not his.

🐻 Blood 🤐 >>> The Bear goes down the classic broke chef-male stripper-awarded chef pipeline and Syd gets a lapdance.

🐻 His pesto 🌱>>> Carmy cooks for Syd and they end up eating each other.

🐻 Letting go >>> Syd is pondering Shapiro's offer. Carmy feels he already lost her and is not about to beg her to stay.

🐻 Bond, Jane Bond 🧨>>> Syd makes a change of regime and Carmy is her Sous. People die in this one.

🐻 The Fairest Creatures Collection >>> Thom Browne offers Carmy and Syd to be the bodies of his new fashion campaign.

🐻 Watermelon Sugar 🍉🍹💕>>> Tina comes up with a love potion based on watermelon and it works wonders on Carmy.

🐻 #Sydcarmychefkiss 🤌💋 >>> Syd and Carmy are judges in a reality show and they have their own fanbase who ships them. Carmy donates part of his profits to charity.

🐻 The Marcusgate 💵💵💵>>> Marcus competes for a million dollars, Carmy finds out Syd has cooked dinner for the pastry Chef and doesn't take it that well.

🐻 Forever 🌟>>> Carmy & Syd get tattoos. Syd is not worried about the competition. 🐻

🐻 The Fix >>> Fixing S3's awful season finale. Carmy shows up a Sydney's apartment and comforts her after her panic attack.

🐻 Sunday morning >>> Syd and Carmy have loooots of morning sex because Syd is insatiable and Carmy ends up cooking breakfast between her legs. 🌅

🐻 Nothingness >>> Carmy finds a letter from Mikey in an old jacket and falls apart, but Syd is there to break his fall. 💔

Remember to Reblog and recommend if you like it and comments are always welcome on AO3 because more often than not I get inspo from them, seeing as I have the best Sydcarmy readers out there!

XOXO

[housecow]

this is why i’m over 300lbs

featuring, in order:

sushi roll: Akami, Torched Toro, Avocado, Jalapeno, Crispy Ginger

ocean trout. can’t remember what else but holy shit it was good

6 layer toasted marshmallow and malt chocolate cake i made!! this is before i iced it bc the icing made it look like shit. still so freaking good and everyone loved it :))

double doozies from great american cookies!!!! i could eat a million of these. they do gift cards i think, just so y’all know 👀

ding dong cake from a place in SA. iykyk

brisket and penang curry from curry bros bbq

ceviche tostada… doesn’t look like much but it was SO GOOD

tom yum noodles from best quality daughter. personally, i hope they get a michelin star for TX but i doubt it bc their service is a lil weird haha

chorizo queso w wonton crisps and a jalapeño salsa of some kind, best quality daughter again!! to die for

prime rib 😍

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Cat in the Kitchen

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Ready for a short supplementary cooking class?🌟 A day in the life of Prefect Gordon and his familiar Grim, told in three parts: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After all, food is tastier when it's shared with friends and family~

Imagine this…

Gordon Ramsay stirred before the rats and the ghosts of Ramshackle dorm did. He was up by 5 am most days, first exercising and then rustling around in the kitchen fighting the gas stove to light (and stay that way!) and taking inventory of the dwindling ingredients in the pantry. At 7 am, the delicious smells would start up, rousing his housemates from their slumber.

This was the magic of a human incapable of spellcasting or sorcery.

"Mm... You're up super early again," Grim muttered from the doorway as he rubbed at his eyes. He yawned, still struggling to shake off the last remnants of sleep that clung to him. "I dunno how you do it."

"Not so hard once you've got the hang of it," he grunted in response. Gordon wiped his hands off on a dish towel before sliding a plate toward Grim. "Eat up now, we don't have much time before classes start."

"I dunno, I'm not too hungry."

"You? Not hungry?" Gordon's brows raised. "That's new. You feeling under the weather?"

Grim leapt, looking as though he had been caught with his entire body stuffed into a cookie jar. "N-No, I'm not! Yup, there's my hunger comin' back to me!"

He hurriedly yoinked a tuna sandwich and chowed down.

"See?! Ah'm jus' fine," Grim insisted, cheeks stuffed.

"Hmm, alright." Gordon tucked into a small bowl of oatmeal--prepared with baked bananas, almond milk, and dried cranberries.

"You got class today too or what?"

"Yup. Ashengrotto and the smaller Shroud this time."

“Think they’ll drive ya mad like the rest of them did?”

“I’ll hold my tongue until I’ve seen how they are in the kitchen for myself.”

“Keh, you’re no fun.”

The beast’s ears flattened. The blue fire that burned so brightly seemed to dim. Something weighed on his mind—of that, Gordon was certain.

“That means you'll abandon me before lunchtime again..." Between chews, Grim complained, "How come I gotta be just a student and you get to be a teacher too? The great Grim-sama oughta be showin' these newbies a thing or two!"

"I only teach what I know. I'm still a student in some ways, learning new things about food every day." Gordon shrugged, giving his friend a rough ruffle on the head. "You can be a teacher when you've mastered everything there is to master--neither of us is quite there yet."

"Why can't it be? I wanna fast forward to the part where I become an archmage already!!"

"Don't be impatient about making progress. I’ve made hundreds of dumplings in a day and still came nowhere near the level of perfection of a dim sum master.“

“Tsk, that sucks. Didja at least get to eat the bad dumplings?”

“It was all I had that day. They weren’t fit to serve to customers.” Gordon shook his head. “My point is, you’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He spooned up the remainder of his oatmeal, then deposited his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. Gordon plucked up Grim, who still had a mouth full of tuna, and tucked him under one arm.

“M-Myah?!“

“Right then, let’s head out. Brisk morning jog to wake up the senses—it’s a brand new day!”

“Lemme finish my breakfast first, sheesh!!”

Three classes before lunch, and they all went about as well as Gordon had expected them to. (That was to say, not well at all.)

During first period Alchemy, Grim had earned the ire of Crewel by disregarding the potion recipe. In spite of Gordon's reminders and warnings, Grim had taken one too many missteps. The wrong ingredient, the incorrect amount, the temperature too low or too high, the stirring too much or not enough.

He was then caught catnapping during Magic History and extensively told off by both Trein and Lucius. (The meowing had gotten very intense.) Gordon had apologized profusely in Grim's place.

Flying had not fared any better--Grim struggled to concentrate, his unsteady magic causing his broom to wildly buck, attempting to chuck him off. Gordon had to stop his rep of 100 push-ups to fetch his friend out from a shrub. Twigs poked at him, leaves caught in his fur.

By the time they were dismissed back to the locker rooms, Grim had melted into a furry puddle on Gordon's shoulder. "Maaan, I'm beat!! That was rough!"

"Rougher than usual." Gordon crunched on an apple. He had taken to the habit of eating small platters or snacks throughout the day over whole meals—it was more efficient for his lifestyle. “Something you want to tell me, or…?”

“N-Nothing’s up!” Grim snapped. "Quit worryin' about me. It's the boss's job to do that for their minion."

The chef rolled his eyes as he set Grim down on the floor beside him. He handed off a boxed lunch wrapped in a checkered cloth. "I'm off to teach. You'll be fine on your own, right? Find Trappola and Spade, settle down with your food, and don't cause trouble."

"I got it already!" Grim huffed. "Catch ya after...?"

"Always." His smile was strained, a bit tired but true. "Maybe I'll bring back some disastrous stories to share with you over dinner."

One last pat on the head, and then he was gone. Hustling down the hall, the white of his pristine chef’s jacket vanishing behind a corner.

Grim managed the rest of the hike to the cafeteria, balancing his lunch in his paws. He squeezed past the legs of various mob students, emerging safely on the other side. They rushed to line up for trays of food.

Suckers, Grim thought, paying in cash for food. Luckily for me, I’ve got something way better than whatever they’re serving.

“Oiiii, Grim! Over here!!” someone called to him. He looked—and there they were, the duo of troublemakers, marked by a heart and a spade upon their faces.

“Ace! Deuce!”

He scampered over to the two Heartslabyul freshmen. They had already secured their lunches, as well as an open seat for him.

“Hard night? Looks like you didn't get much sleep," Deuce commented. A fluffy omelet wobbled atop a mountain of ketchup fried rice on his plate.

“He's right, you really do look awful," Ace added cheerily--blunt as ever. He had opted for a slice of some savory pie, vegetables and meat oozing out from a buttery crust.

"Sh-Shuddap! The great Grim-sama was up all night cookin' up something big!" He slammed a paw down on the table. "Just look at your sorry lunches. They can't compare to what I have!"

"Did Prefect make your meal again? You should try to not trouble him too much.”

"’S not like I tell’m to! He does it on his own!” Grim snickered to himself. "He takes all these cheap ingredients and throws'm together to make these tasty dishes."

"Well, don't keep us waiting in suspense," Ace groaned. "Show us what you have already."

“Let’s see, let’s see!”

Grim undid the fabric knot that held his lunch in a swathe. The checkered pattern peeled back and the lid, once removed, yielded a creamy, cheesy bed of tuna bake.

Gordon had taken his beloved canned tuna and fried it down into flakes. It was then combined with a special mixture of seasonings, pasta shells, melted cheeses, onions and broccoli, and topped with bread crumbs. After a generous bake in their ancient oven, the dish had come out golden brown and bubbling.

“Whoooa, smells delish!!” all three of them drooled.

“Lucky bastard,” Ace muttered. He quickly put on a cheeky grin, his spoon prepared. “Ne, ne~ Lemme try some, Grim!“

“D-Don’t be cheeky, Ace! You can’t demand to mooch off of someone else’s lunch,” Deuce scolded his peer. “… Even if it does look really good.”

“Paws off!!” Grim shielded the box with his body. “My minion made this for me and me only!”

“Tch.” Ace’s expression dropped. “You get to eat like a king for free while the rest of us have to shell out and make do with whatever’s on the school’s menu.”

“It’s not that bad,” Deuce pointed out. “It’d be nice to be able to eat for free but I’m happy with the quality of food we get for the price.”

“This comin’ from the guy who was running low on pocket money for a snack the other day?” he smirked.

“H-Hey, I need to budget, okay?!”

While the duo bickered, Grim had started to shove his face into the box (silverware was too difficult to maneuver) and wolf down his meal. Cheese sauce painted his fur, bits of broccoli and tuna dotting his jaw.

It was heaven—or as close to heaven as he could get on the earth.

He licked his lips appreciatively, mopping up what was left on his face. Not even a little could go to waste. Grim was determined.

As he went back in for another mouthful, he felt a phantom hand cascade across his head, his back. Advice from that morning filled his mind.

“You’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He shut his eyes, making a silent vow.

I’ll definitely… definitely pay ya back for all the hard work you’ve been puttin’ in too, partner.

Gordon bid farewell to the ghost chefs on his way out of the kitchen. The day’s leftovers and unused ingredients overflowed from his arms—a perk of the teaching gig, which helped to feed him and his feline roommate. He mentally parsed through what was available, dreaming up new dishes for the days to come.

There was a nice chunk of fresh tuna (Grim would love it) in his brown paper bag. Perhaps he’d sear it with a sesame crust, then drizzle the seafood in a yuzu-lime dressing to brighten it. He’s plate it with a microgreens salad. Chives, arugula, celery, radish, and ruby sorrel to encourage Grim to eat a variety of vegetables.

He made his way out of the school building and down the long, winding path to Ramshackle dorm. The sun was still out, warming the worn Prefect.

On the front porch, he rustled around in his pants for the keys. When he finally fished it out and inserted the teeth into the lock, Gordon swore he heard a series of suppressed giggles from beyond the door.

Odd.

The door swung open, and he was immediately accosted.

"Welcome baaack," the Ramshackle Ghosts chirped. One ushered him in from behind, another too his groceries off of his hands, and a third tugged him along by the arm.

"Come this way! Grimmy's got a treat for ya!"

"He's been working hard on it the second he got back from his last class."

"Oooh, you're gonna LOVE it!"

"What about dinner?" Gordon protested, watching his beloved ingredients sail off.

He was thrusted into their dingy kitchen--which doubled as the dining room, thanks to the table and chairs set up in one cobwebbed corner. The same old Ramshackle he woke up to every day. Rusty knobs and hinges, chipped cupboards, electricity and running water that blinked in and out.

But there, set on a table with uneven legs and splintered wood, was something extraordinary.

It was a stout cake, iced in light blue with a layer of dripping white and several lit candles stuck into the top. Black frosting formed the vague shape of a fish, TUNA piped over it in white. A single lollipop--pale blue, and in the shape of a paw--casually rested against the cake, as if it had been tossed on top for an extra flair.

A furry mass tackled and hugged Gordon's leg.

"Grim?!"

He was suited up in his own little chef's uniform. It was deep gray, verging on black, his apron tied with a striped-purple ribbon. A tiny toque--a chef's hat-- sat between his ears, a bandage over the bridge of his nose. A smear of white icing decorated his left cheek, and he carried with him a telltale piping bag squeezed thin.

Gordon blinked. "You did this?"

"Nyahahah! Were you surprised?"

"You told me you couldn't cook to save your life."

"He can't," a ghost piped up as he deposited the groceries onto a counter. "He's worse than I was when I was alive!"

"That's why Grimmy's been getting up in the dead of night lately. Been, what? Gotta be a few weeks now."

"He's been practicing his baking and then cleaning up the traces of his crime before you get up."

"What..."

"I wanted to pay ya back, yanno! For all the cookin' and cleanin' and whatever," Grim mumbled shyly, kicking at the ground. "So I figured I'd treat ya for once! I was thinking of a sticky toffee pudding at first since that's your favorite, but... it gets so sticky, it was hard to work with!"

He patted his stomach. "I couldn't put my stuff in the trash can or else you'd notice, so I had to eat up all my mistakes too! It was a lotta effort and way harder than it looked, so you'd better be grateful!!”

Grim looked away, rubbing at his bandage.

“… It helped me better understand and appreciate all the things you do on the daily.”

It clicked.

Everything suddenly made sense. Grim's tiredness, lack of focus, decreased appetite, defensiveness—it was all for this very moment.

"... I see." Gordon bent down, a smile taking shape on his mouth. A steady kindling in his chest. “This is your way of saying ‘thank you’.”

“M-Maybe! An archmage has gotta take good care of his minion,” Grim muttered.

The prefect laughed softly. “And you’re doing a great job at it. Hang tight, I'll get the stove going and whip us up some seared tuna to go with the cake."

“Myah?! Y-You’ve got tuna? Like, the real stuff?!” Grim’s eyes were wide and sparkling. A line of drool ran down his chin. "Fancy tuna...!!"

"Yeah. We can plate some for the ghosts too--so they can join us for a meal in spirit." Gordon nodded at their other roommates. Their pale faces brightened with excitement.

"Can we really?"

"It's been so long since I was last invited to a celebration like this!!"

"Oh, but we can't eat... Ghosts don't have digestive systems. The tune would pass right through us."

"... Grim, you have eat their shares. More importantly, it's being together for the occasion that matters, right?"

"Whoo-hoo!! You're the best minion an archmage could ask for!!" Grim cheered, leaping into the air, furry fist pumping.

“Let's get this dinner party started…!”

[sgiandubh]

Friends and friends of friends a network make

Boys are back in town, no rings (Real Life, not Instabuzz) and active networking:

In this case, those who are missing from the pic are as (if not more) important as those who made it, riding in the rain.

Let's unpack:

John Laurie, Managing Director at the Glenturret distillery, where my personal favorite blend (oh, well, The Famous Grouse - I know, really LOL, but it is what it is) is made. A long, interesting career that started in 2000, as General Manager of a fitness club network headquartered in Irvine, California (LA Fitness) and got him more and more involved in whisky business since 2014, as General Manager of Edrington, the Macallan distillery. If it sounds familiar to you, well... always remember that #silly old slogan on the Pall Mall cigarette packs: 'wherever particular people congregate'. I know I do 😎.

Something immediately piqued my interest in this short bio: 'opened a fine dining restaurant that achieved a Michelin star inside 7 months'. And it is, of course, true: part of the reasons I am always using LinkedIn to place people, is that it would be counterproductive to blatantly lie, there. Or childish: even McSideburns knows that, with his very empty page and 1 contact - but what the hell do I know, though, he's more private than if he worked for the MI-6.

The one starred Michelin restaurant who got 'le macaron' in seven months is The Glenturret Lalique Restaurant, that opened in July 2021, on the distillery's premises and got it by February 2022. The first time a distillery wins a Michelin star, by the way:

Now, where did I read a similar business story, not so long ago and wrote about it? Oh, that's right, Tom Kitchin's first restaurant in EDI apparently followed the same yellow brick road to instant success, back in 2007:

Again, I am sensing a theme, here. Associating with young, dynamic and daring entrepreneurial voices in the whisky business. Not exactly the manwhore, closeted gay, peasant and crook some hypocrites would like to portray. I have to say, I am always, always over the moon glad to see the real thing showing up from time to time: a consistent effort to get things done, properly.

But sure, you believe what you want. I cannot force anyone to go beyond a sometimes very limited world view.

Second person being missed is David Coulthard, F1 legend, but also...

Company Director at Whisper Films, one of the most dynamic, fastest growing UK media groups. He founded it in 2010, along Jake Humphries, BBC F1 commenter extraordinaire and Sunil Patel, a former BBC producer, but also a Board Member of the Edinburgh TV Festival:

And for those who might not know it (I didn't), Coulthard hails from Dumfries & Galloway. Mmmhm. Well done, S. Well done.

S knows exactly what he's doing, where he's going and when and with whom he is seen. By this point in time, I think we might safely think his somewhat lackadaisical recent Insta follows (Romanian female MMA athlete? ROFLMAO, really and I howled) as gently trolling this very obsessed invested fandom. As I wrote it many, many times already, the Scottish Mafia is a reality - and good for him, really, to use what is readily available. And if you still had any doubt that was a business informal meeting, The Highland Chieftain tagged SS in his story.

He's going to laugh all the way to the bank, this one. You'll see. Great news and I will always be here to put it in context. Some of the things being heavily peddled around in here might not be very interesting to me - but this yes: this is exciting.

Also, many, many thanks to the two of you who immediately keep me up with these: you know who you are and you are loved, of course, why even ask?😘🙌

[veryberryjelly]

☕️ with chef luca?? either prompt 6 or 13, it’s up to you<33

also i love this event it’s so cute and creative!!!

𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

13 - their breath hitching whenever the other gets a little closer

opportunities like this didnt come often in your industry.

you had been given the rarest of chances to work in a kitchen with michelin star chefs.

one of which had taken a bit of a like to you.

luca.

his main job was desserts and pastries but you bumped into him a lot because he made his pastry doughs during the dinner shift to have them ready to bake the next day.

when you stayed behind after your shift one day to clean up the kitchen, you had ended up spending the night talking to him until he had to go home.

that very quickly turned into him asking if you wanted to continue your chats back at his place.

you both showed up to work the next day in the same clothes which was thankfully unnoticed by all of your co workers.

as did the constant flirty glances between the two of you as you worked.

and the waiting around outside until the other was finished with their shift so the two of you could go to eachothers places.

but what finally got you figured out, wasnt either of those things, it was simply your coworker and friend noticing that whenever he passed behind you, you would momentarily forget whatever you were doing and it would take you a minute before you even remembered your name.

your hands would stop, your breath would hitch and the tiniest blush would settle on your cheeks.

so it wasn't any of the obvious things that got you found out. it was the stupid stuff you had no control over

[coffeetank]

7 Simple Literary Devices That Elevate your Writing

1. Mood:

The mood of your story is the ambience you're trying to create around your setting and characters in a book. For example, in a horror story, the mood of the book will dark and ominous. In a romantic comedy, the mood of the book will be light-hearted, funny and swoon-worthy.

The mood of your story needs to be maintained throughout your book as it is the direct emotional environment of the themes you're using. It does not change at any point of the story.

2. Metaphor:

Metaphor is a literary device where you compare two things without using the words "as" or "like". It is an indirect comparison that convinces you of the similarities between two things.

For example: "You knowledge is your weapon." This sentence is indirectly comparing knowledge to a weapon to imply that both can be used to protect/defend/fight.

3. Simile:

Simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two things and insists on their similarities. You use "as" and "like".

For example: "slept like a baby" or "as light as a cloud".

4. Colloquialism:

Colloquialism is the device used to fit a more informal environment. Imagine the way you talk to your friends or family. You are a lot more relaxed with them than you are in a professional setting, say work or university.

Colloquialism is especially important for dialogues as your characters are not going to be speaking formally with each other all the time.

For example: Words like "wanna", "gonna" are used in dialogue to show how a character talks. Moreover, a lot of time, people don't pronounce the 'g' in '—ing' words which is another easy way of showing how your characters talk; talkin', goin', etc.

5. Imagery:

Easy, effective, engaging — imagery is a common and useful tool that can help you with descriptions.

Imagery is a device used for descriptive writing as it triggers your reader's senses. We have five senses — touch, smell, hearing, seeing and taste. Using imagery will invoke these senses in your readers and they will be able to put themselves into the world you're creating for them.

For example: "The house reeked of alcohol, the windows deeply ingrained with dirt. The wooded floor creaked with every step he took. When he came across the plate of cake left unattended on the dining table, he almost retched at the thought of how it would've tasted."

6. Amplification:

Amplification is a literary device used to emphasise on the importance of something being conveyed. Amplification uses a detailed extension of an already understandable sentence/word/phrase to add more to it's value.

Amplification can be used in both descriptions and dialogue based on it's requirement. If you're writing a character that's dramatic, they may resort to using amplification to focus on their POV. If you're writing a serious scene, they you may use amplification to describe the essence of it.

For example: "You could be the richest man alive, have a closet full of designer brands, line up a hundred lambos, wear the most expensive shoes ever made, eat Michelin star meals, sleep in the finest of silks, date the most beautiful of women, but you still won't be happy unless you've actually worked on yourself."

Designer brands, expensive shoes, lavish cars are all self-given details that we'd understand once we read the phrase "richest man alive", but those details are still written to add importance to the point being made about working on oneself.

7. Tone:

Tone is a tool you use when writing about the subject in question. Tone involves a particular incident/scene/circumstance on your work where there is a shift in the general ambience only until the subject matter is resolved.

For example, if you're writing a romantic comedy and your two main leads have fought recently, then instead of your general liveliness, you will write a bit dully to show that your characters are going through some problems. This will go on until your characters make up.

**NOTE: Tone and Mood are not the same thing. I will make a post soon about the difference between tone and mood too.

Hope this helps!

-ashlee

[spidermaninlove]

Tomdaya Timeline vol. 6

Links to vol. 1, vol. 2, vol. 3, vol. 4, and vol. 5

London

July 2023

TZ spotted having lunch in Wimbledon.  link

July 9, 2023

Tom and Z at The Brothers Trust Event

Brothers Trust Uncharted Screening

Z attended the Brothers Trust Uncharted screening with Tom.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

The Brothers Trust Instagram account included Z in their event stories link link2, and the event recap video they posted features both Tom and Z.  link3

While at the Brothers Trust Uncharted screening, Tom changed from a blue t-shirt into a black Brothers Trust shirt, and during the event, Z was photgraphed holding the blue shirt Tom was no longer wearing.  link

Chiltern Firehouse

TZ arriving at Chiltern Firehouse.  link  After dinner, Tom waited with Z while she took pics with fans outside the restaurant.  link2 link3 link4 link5

July 11, 2023

TZ spotted in Richmond (near Kingston).  link

During the Family Trips with the Meyers Brothers podcast that aired today, Tom talked about the time Z cut her finger while making him dinner in NY and needed stitches.  link  When asked if he could go on a vacation with any family other than his own, he named Z’s fam.  He also mentioned recently golfing with Z.  link2

July 14, 2023

TZ photographed eating in Richmond.  link

July 20, 2023

TZ spotted furniture shopping.  link link2

Tomdaya date night including dinner link and a musical link2 link3.

Portugal

July 2023

Z in Portugal on holiday/vacation with Tom and his family.  link link2

LA

August 2023

Tom with Noon and a tot at Z’s house in Northridge.  

link

August 22, 2023

Tom with Z at a salon in LA.  link

August 23, 2023

Tom and Z were photographed at Target along with Z’s mom, Claire.  link link2

Oakland

TZ were in Oakland August 25-26, 2023.  link

August 25, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at West Oakland Middle School. link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10

Z posted Tom to her story.  link

August 26, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at Lowell Park in Oakland

TZ at Zendaya All-Stars basketball game in Oakland.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10 link11 link12 link13 link14 link15 link16 link17 link18 link19 link20 link21

September 1, 2023

Tom posted a photo of Z to his Instagram story, captioned, “My birthday girl 😍”  link and another photo of his three loves, Z, Tessa, and Noon, captioned with “😍😍😍″.  link2

LA

September 4, 2023

Zendaya and Tom at the third night (Beyonce’s birthday) of Beyonce’s Renaissance Tour in LA.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

Z serenading Tom to Love on Top.  link7 link8 

September 5, 2023

Vogue dubbed TZ “Hollywood royalty”.  link

Paris

October 1, 2023

Tom with Z in Paris.  link link2 link3

October 2, 2023

Tom and Z at Bvlgari Hotel in Paris.  link link2

October 3, 2023

TZ at the Van Gogh exhibit at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris.  link link2 link3

Zendaya and Tom went to Féerie in Moulin Rouge.  link

October 4, 2023

Tom and Z at the Place Vendôme in Paris.  link

London

October 5, 2023

TZ with their moms at Battersea Dogs & Cats Home.  link

October 6, 2023

Tom and Z “...walking through a park with two bodyguards in west London when they couldn't keep their hands off each other, with Zendaya draping her arm over her boyfriend. Tom kept kissing her hand as they walked along."  link link2

TZ at Petersham Nurseries, a local Michelin Green Star restaurant.  link link2

LA

October 2023

Tom in LA at a restaurant with Z.  link

Tom and Z signed Spider-man posters for The Brothers Trust.  

link

Oakland/LA

October 20, 2023

TZ photographed at the Oakland and Burbank airports.  link

LA

October 23, 2023

“Hollywood’s cutest couple” papped shopping at Erewhon Market in LA.  link link2 link3

Las Vegas

November 5, 2023

Tom and Z in Las Vegas.  link

California

November 12, 2023

TZ spotted in Lemoore, CA.

November 24, 2023

Tom and Z spotted in Sacramento and Vacaville, California.  link

November 25, 2023

According to Claire, Z is in LA.  Note:  Claire had Noon from November 23-25.  

Bay Area

December 6, 2023

TZ spotted at Target in the San Francisco Bay Area.  link

December 7, 2023

Tom and Z spotted in San Francisco.  link

London

December 13, 2023

Tom and Z visited the Royal Marsden Hospital in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7 link8 link9 link10

December 19, 2023

Tom and Z were photographed shopping in London.  link

December 20, 2023

TZ were spotted shopping again today -- ‘tis the season.  link

December 21, 2023

TZ with the Hollands at The Little Big Things musical.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

LA

January 14, 2024

During an interview at the Critics Choice Awards, Tom mentioned that he and Z will occasionally watch “Spider-man 1″ (Spider-man: Homecoming) to reminisce.  link

January 23, 2024

Tom posted a photo of Z in Paris to his story.  He also reposted and captioned a video of Z featuring lyrics from Cupid’s Chokehold with “This was made for me 😂” hence, confirming Z is his girlfriend.  link link2

London

February 14, 2024

TZ spent Valentine’s Day with Tom’s family celebrating the twins’ birthday at a pub.  link

February 15, 2024

Tom at the Dune 2 red carpet premiere in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Tom and Z arriving at the Dune 2 after-party.  link link2

TZ leaving the Dune 2 after party together.  link

TZ were both styled in black fits for the event, with Tom dressed in Louis Vuitton, his ambassador girlfriend’s brand.  link

February 21, 2024

Tom posted the second Challengers trailer to his Instagram story.  link

February 2024 

Z said Tom has beautiful charisma and that “it works for me”.  link

Z said, "I think the more I'm around British people and they're my family now..."  link

When asked if she could bring back one thing from the UK, Z said her boyfriend.  link

California

March 17, 2024

TZ at the Indian Wells Open in California.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

Indian Wells Open

London

April 10, 2024

Tom at Z’s Challengers premiere in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

April 11, 2024

Tom and Z papped together in London.  link

April 19, 2024

Law once again confirmed tomdaya 1.0.  link

May 10, 2024

TZ photographed holding hands in London.  link

May 23, 2024

Z arriving at the opening night performance of Tom’s Romeo & Juliet on the West End.  link  TZ departed the theater together.  link2 link3 link4 link5

Z took photos of Tom waving to the crowd from inside their ride.  link

TZ attended the Romeo & Juliet after-party.  link

May 29, 2024

TZ papped out and about in London.  link

June 5, 2024

Tom and Z photographed with a fan at the mall in Kingston.  link

June 6, 2024

Zendaya waiting for Tom after his PM Romeo & Juliet performance.  link link2

June 7, 2024

Z attended Tom’s Romeo & Juliet play tonight.  They exited the theater together holding hands.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6 link7

June 13, 2024

Zendaya exited the stage door tonight with Tom.  link link2

June 22, 2024

Romeo and Noon at the Duke of York’s Theatre today.  link link2 link3

June 23, 2024

Noon with Tom again tonight at the Duke of York’s Theatre.  link link2

June 28, 2024

Tom walked Noon, sans Zendaya, in Richmond Park.  link

July 1, 2024

Noon once again at the theater with Tom.  link link2 link3

July 13, 2024

Z with Nikki and Claire at Wimbledon.  link

July 19, 2024

Z attended another one of Tom’s Romeo & Juliet performances.  link

July 21, 2024

Tom and Z spotted out and about in Wimbledon.  link

July 27, 2024

Tom was papped walking TZ’s new protection pup, Daphne.  link

July 31, 2024

TZ spotted dining out and kissing in London near the Duke of York’s Theatre.  link link2 link3

August 3, 2024

Zendaya arrived at the Duke of York’s Theatre with a bouquet of roses for Tom’s final Romeo & Juliet performance on the West End.  link link2 link3

August 4, 2024

Tom and Z spotted walking their dogs in Richmond Park.  link

Hotel Castello di Reschio, Umbria Italy (Vacation)

August 6-20, 2024

Tom and Z vacationed at the Hotel Castello di Reschio in Umbria Italy.  link link2

Perugia Italy

August 12, 2024

Tom and Z photographed at the National Gallery in Perugia Italy.  link

August 14, 2024

Z and Tom spotted again in Perugia Italy.  link

August 19, 2024

Another Tom and Z sighting in Perugia.  link

August 20, 2024

Tom and Z spotted at the airport in Perugia.  link

London

August 22, 2024

Z and Tom in Kingston.  link

Scotland

August 26-27, 2024

TZ spotted dining at Gleneagles restaurants in Scotland.  link link2

August 28, 2024

Tom and Z photographed at Glasgow Airport in Scotland link and spotted holding hands.  link2

California

August 30-31, 2024

Zendaya and Tom photographed in LA at the airport and shopping in Calabasas.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

September 1, 2024

TZ were spotted in Berkeley getting frozen yogurt and in San Francisco.  link link2

London

September 7, 2024

TZ at the musical, The Baker’s Wife, at Menier Chocolate Factory in London.  link link2 link3 link4 link5 link6

September 8, 2024

Tom and Z spotted in Surbiton.  link

Cornwall 

September 9-13, 2024, Holland Family Vacation

September 10, 2024

TZ spotted at a supermarket, having breakfast at a small cafe, and on CCTV while on vacation in Cornwall.  link link2 link3 link4 link5

September 11, 2024

Tom and Zendaya at the beach in Cornwall.  link link2

September 13, 2024

Dom Holland blogged about the Holland family holiday in St. Austell in Cornwall England.  link

Tiburon (Bay Area), California

October 5, 2024

TZ spotted having lunch with a group of people in Tiburon, CA.  link link2

October 16, 2024

Tom launched BERO today and one of his three brews is named after his and Z’s dog, Noon.  

October 17, 2024

During a podcast with Rich Roll, Tom mentioned Z and Noon several times:  1) Taking Noon to a meeting with Tom Rothman link, 2) one of his Bero brews is named after his “little dog” (Noon) link2, 3) Z’s kind comments regarding Tom’s TCR hair link3, 4) doing handiwork around Z’s house link4, 5) reading a draft Spider-man 4 script with Z link5, and 6) agreeing to do Romeo & Juliet without discussing it with Z link6.

October 19, 2024

Tom and BERO posted for Noon’s birthday on Instagram, calling him "My birthday boy" and "Tom's furry child," respectively.  link

New York

October 24, 2024

Zendaya in New York with Tom at the official BERO launch party.  link link3 link4 Tom rescued Z from autographers when they returned to their hotel tonight.  link2

BERO launch party, Nine Orchard Hotel, New York

Boston

October 31, 2024

Tom spotted in Boston.  Z is in the area filming The Drama.

November 2024

Tom and Z walking Noon while sharing airpods in Boston.  link link2 link3

TZ stopped for hot chocolate.  link link2 Tom was carrying Z’s phone in his pocket. link3

November 2, 2024

TZ spotted in Boston.  link link2 link3 link4

November 7, 2024

Tomdaya out and about in Boston with Noon link link5, and at a bookstore. link2  They were spotted together again tonight. link3 link4

November 8, 2024

Both Tom and Z have been cast in Christopher Nolan’s next movie which will begin filming early next year.

November 9, 2024

TZ photographed at a cafe today in Boston.  link

November 10, 2024

An autumn walk in Boston. link 

November 13, 2024

During an interview with Vanity Fair, Z discussed working with Tom and Noon’s love for Tom.  link

November 24, 2024

TZ out in Boston for BERO at the Foxhole bar.  link

[thecapricunt1616]

Sunflower 🌻

Syd x Carmy one-shot

♡ Summary: A/U where after graduating from the CIA at the top of her class, Syd goes on a food tour in NYC & ends up hooking up with the most talented CDC, at the best restaurant in the world.

♡ W/C: 3,434

♡ Posted Date: 04/12/2024

♡ A/N: This is pure filth I tried adding some plot- I hope it turned out the way I saw it in my head. As always requests are open - for SydCarmy, CarmyxReader as usual! I hope you enjoy :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutsmutsmut nsfw 18+ - Oral (m receiving) , Barely edited bc we die like men.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Sydney Adamu had just graduated top of her class at the Culinary Institute of America. She’d been hunkering down with her dad, for a long four years, she was desperate to get out of there. She already had a plan all set up. 

She’d take the last bit of money her grandfather had given her for college, and make a catering business of her very own. It would be dedicated to her parents, (of course) Syd’s hopeless romanticism was thanks to their perfect, beautiful love story of course. She’d known since sophomore year of culinary school - Sheridan Road would be her baby. 

She’d settled on this idea - with any possible odd’s and ends money she’d made during her CIA training - she’d go out for as long as it would last her. She’d learn, study, and observe, then- create her catering business, with the confidence she’d gotten a taste of the very goal she had, a star. Well - three would be absolutely fucking insanity to her- but one? One she felt like if she had it? Her father would believe she was in a real line of work, instead of just happy she was perusing her own happiness. 

It was the perfect plan in her mind. She’d already set aside the amount of money, with extra safety net, for all of the licensures, and documentation she’d need- as well as her commercial kitchen rental she’d make the food out of. Then - with the extra 5k she had left over, she booked a full food tour of the most prestigious, luxurious restaurants in NYC. 

She’d planned the tour 6 months before she graduated, since the 3 restaurants wouldn’t even accept a reservation if it wasn’t made out any later then that, and when she walked the stage, 3 days later she was on the train into the city. 

She’d be staying at a decent hotel for 12 days. Each day, she’d be having one large meal including an app, two main courses, 2 cocktails, and 1 dessert from a Michelin starred restaurant. She would be staying 4 days for 1 star, 4 for 2 stars, and 4 for 3 stars. 

The schedule was as followed; 

Monday - Hirohisa *

Tuesday - Dirt Candy *

Wednesday - The Musket Room *

Thursday - The Red Paper Clip *

Friday - Atera **

Saturday - Jungsik **

Monday - Saga **

Tuesday - Daniel **

Wednesday - Per Se ***

Thursday - Le Bernadin ***

Friday - Masa ***

Saturday - 11 Madison Park ***

When she’d got off at Penn station- she was nearly vibrating with excitement - she quickly brushed passed people grabbing their obnoxious suitcases in the overhead compartments. 

“Sorry! ‘Scuse me! Fuck- shit sorry- exscuse me!!!- whoops! Sorry- scuse me- aah! Ugh- I Didn’t mean to- oop- oh- Jesus!! Excuse me!!” She rambled, frustration building in her chest. Getting off The L wasn’t this hard- why did Amtrak feel worse?!

She took a deep breath, her nose scrunching. 

Mm. So instead of cow shit - smog, I feel at home already. 

She’d thought to herself as she briskly walks with the crowd towards the exit she meant to take onto fifth. 

She slipped her wired headphones into her ears, texting her father 

‘made it!! Love you daddy!!’

Before opening her Spotify, hitting one of her comfort albums, Broken Clocks, as she walked briskly outside - the crisp city air hitting her like a ton of bricks. 

She leaned against the brick of the McDonald’s next door, avoiding the streams of people going down and up the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. She’d not been to New York before, she’d grown up in Chicago- been to the city more times then she can count, but the suburbs were her home. Being in the city- and let alone- a city like Manhattan versus Chicago- she was looking around, trying to gather her wits - and quickly.  She clicked the maps application on her iPhone 7, tugging her umbrella out of the water bottle pocket of her backpack and tucking it under her arm as she typed the address to her hotel and clicking for the walking directions.

It honestly kind of pissed her off that each day’s food was better than the last. She’d wanted to not give a shit about stars and just focus on giving people an experience to remember - but it was cut & dry that now that she’d tasted this kind of food - she was going to do whatever she could to become as talented as the chefs that made it. 

But - she hadn’t even tried the best yet. 

The best, the best, THE best. 

She honestly couldn’t believe she was going to be trying the food from Eleven Madison Park - but she couldn’t help but be so nervous. Every other Michelin starred restaurant she’d been to - the dress code was Formal attire. But this one? THE best restaurant in the fucking world? Oh- they just say on their website ‘many of our guests dress up for the occasion, but we do not have a dress code’  

Her entire trip, She’d been cycling through 2 very different floor length gowns. One of which she wore to her graduation, and the other she’d found at Windsor on sale but it did the job. She didn’t wear luxury attire often, okay? She was too busy being Culinary school for Christ sakes! And tonight she couldn’t for the life of her choose which one she’d wear. 

This being because she was attending a main dining room tasting, which was ten courses. Easy, luxury dining courses were stupidly small. But- she was also trying their bar tasting menu which was an extra four courses. Sitting at a bar in that stupid fluffy dress for two hours would not be comfortable. But- again- best. restaurant. in. the. WORLD!!! 

She knew for a fact that she would be mad at herself if she got there and everyone around was dressed to the nines, but - for comfortability sake she went with the simple silken red gown. 

The front of house service was literally perfect. She was glad she’d brought a new notebook, because she’d never have had enough space to take all the notes she was taking tonight in the one she’d been using the majority of the trip. Their staff was very casually mannered, and they made it very easy to order. Everything was very calm and comfortable, the furniture felt very luxurious in the sense of comfortability. 

After she just had the best meal of her entire life, she knew she had to speak with the person who made it. Her mind was blown for lack of a better word. The food was fucking incredible. She had a rule to keep herself able to taste as much as possible: she was only allowed one bite of each dish, but here- she couldn’t just limit herself to one. Each dish she was taking 2 even 3 bites- but when she got to the sunflower dish? It was brilliant. She finished every bite, she couldn’t not. It would be sinful to waste it. And the only thing on her mind was that she had to talk to the chef who’d made it.

Her waiter comes back to her table, giving her back her card and receipt. 

“Thank you for dining with us this evening, have a wonderful night” he told her 

“Thank you- Um- may I speak with the chef who made the sunflower plate please? I’d like to pay my compliments in person if possible.” She asked hopefully. 

“Of course, that would be Chef Carmen- give me just a moment I’ll go get him for you” he nodded and headed back to the kitchen. She looked over her notes, remembering the questions she’d wanted to ask about the dish. 

Carmen, she wondered if he’d been named after the saint. His talent was surely straight from the hands of the Mother of Christ. 

Shes interrupted from writing in her notebook by a husky, silvery voice 

“Excuse me- I was told you’d like to speak to me, I’m Chef Carmen, I made your sunflower dish this evening.” 

“Hey- I’m Sydney - that dish was- ” she stood up to face him- and when she realized who was in front of her, her heart began to race. Of course, she’d thought, of course - only a JBA contestant could come up with a dish so ingenious.

 “Oh- um…Hi.. Hello- you’re like -” she blinked a few times, in utter shock. “You’re Carmen Berzatto“ She swallowed thickly. 

Sydney was obsessed with this industry- she stalked the JBA website every year to see who would be nominated, dreaming that some day she’d be on that list. Being even nominated would allow her to die happily feeling as if she’d won a fucking Nobel Prize. That was how much she respected those damn awards. 

“I am” he said and cleared his throat nervously. 

“Well- firstly congratulations on your nomination- you like- if it was up to me you’d win because that sunflower dish was-” they’re interrupted by one of the food runners coming over 

“Chef Carmen- Chef Daemon requests you in back of house now.” she said urgently, the girl looked like she was on the brink of tears as she continued taking the tray of food over to the table it was meant for. 

“So sorry, i’d love to hear what you have to say but uh…” he trailed off. 

“Yeah- yeah- sorry, sorry I wont keep you-” she said and he shook his head a bit 

“No- no- um… I mean -” he wouldnt usually be so bold, but his ass was going to literally be kicked if he didnt get back there in the next 5 seconds. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke at 11:15. If you wanted to keep talkin’ ill be there” he said before heading back to the kitchen.

Sydney was nearly shaking - there were so so many things she wanted to ask him. She also realized he was much - infinitely hotter in person - how that was even possible? She remained unsure. She had reapplied her lipgloss and her perfume, nervously pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. 

She hears the back door open and she looked over, out emerging the greek god incarnate she somehow got so lucky as to run in to tonight. “Hey!” she said with her famous warm smile. 

He didnt return it, actually- he looked pissed. She swallowed thickly, rubbing her lips together nervously “Hey - sorry again I uh- fuckin’ boss” he muttered, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket. 

“No- don’t apologize please, I totally get it. I mean, you're the CDC at literally the best restaurant in the world. I wouldn’t have bugged you if I knew, I mean- my table, like- I’m not a critic..I guess I should have clarified cause of the notebook thing but they usually are more…low key? I thought? Do they usually just come and whip out a notebook? That would make it easier I think… But nonetheless I’m so so grateful to have been able to eat a meal that-“ she rambled on anxiously but he stops her.

“You talk when y’nervous” he said with a small smirk, lighting the cigarette between his lips and inhaling, leaning against the brick.

“Uh-” she stuttered, her face feeling hot suddenly. “Sorry- I’ve uh… i’ve been told” she chuckled a bit, taking a few steps towards him and leaning on the brick only 2 feet or so between them.

“It’s charming, y’smoke?” he offered her the pack with a red top, she looked down at it.

“I don’t- not- not yet anyways” she joked, crossing a slim arm over her waist. He couldn't help but realize how the action made her breasts more prominent. 

“You’re a chef?” he asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yes! Yes- well.. Just graduated, not working anywhere yet- I’m going home soon to try and start my own catering thing…” she explained and he nodded.

“Where’d y’graduate from?” he asked, exhaling the smoke away from her direction.

“CIA - 2 weeks ago, Valedictorian actually, y’not the only chef around here with street cred” she joked and he chuckled.

“Really? Word. Thats sick, good job. Y’said y’re headed home? Where’s that?” he asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Chicago! Can’t wait to get back, Hudson life is… not for me- I forgot how convenient public transportation was” she said. 

He raised his brows in surprise, “Chicago huh? Thats my old home base.” he said 

“I know! You’re actually… really famous did you know that? Like- they talk all about you during lectures, you’re the new golden child of the culinary world” she teased and he rolled his eyes playfully.

They’d been inching closer and closer without realizing throughout the whole conversation, she was now so close that she could see the barely there scar on his cheek, her focus locked on it. His gaze was locked on her plump lips and he was imagining how they’d feel around his cock.

“I do unfortunately - you’ll learn soon enough that praise means being a target in this industry.” He said 

She bit her lip, meeting his striking blue eyes once again. “I really meant to tell you earlier was that sunflower dish was the best meal i’ve ever had. And i’m not just…sucking your dick because you’re you - I knew that before I knew you made it” she laughed a bit.

He followed suit, “Well if you want to- i’m not gonna say no.” he said and her eyes widened a bit, feeling her core pooling with heat at the idea. Of course he was half joking. It was so sudden and out there he would have never expected her to indulge him. 

“I mean- here? What if your boss comes out?” she asked, a bit quieter as if she was trying to assure they’d not be caught.

He nodded towards the row of 12-wheeler trucks parked 50 or so feet away. “Haven’t moved in 6 weeks” he shrugged casually  “Lead the way Chef”  she motioned with her hand, a frisky smirk on her lips.

“Holy fuuuck” Carmy groaned, pushing his cock deeper into her tight hot mouth. “Y’like takin cock like this mmm? Y’like bein’ my little fuckin slut?” he muttered, thumbing away the warm tear that was gathering in the corner of her right eye. “So fuckin’ good f’me-” he growled, moaning at the wet gurgling noises emitting from her.

She swallowed around him, looking up at him with tear-filled dark lustful brown eyes, widening her jaw further and tonguing over the pulsing vein on the underside of his length, gently squeezing his thighs to urge him further. 

“Y’want me t’fuck y’throat? Mmm? Dirty fuckin girl” he gathered her braids into his fist, wrapping them around his palm and roughly tugging her off. 

She whined hotly, the sensation of his rough hand sending waves of pleasure through her being. “Please” she said wantingly, tonguing over his slit before wrapping her lips around the tip of his head in a sensual kiss.

He took his thumb, pulling her jaw open wide and thrusting into her mouth with a satisfied grunt. “Y’know-shhhit y’know what? I think this is the only way t’shut y’ass up? Mmm?” he inhales sharply as she pushed his foreskin back and spit on his exposed sensitive tip.

“Jesus fuckin-” he sharply inhaled through his teeth as she gently grazed her teeth over the sensitive head, his abs clenching in pleasure and hips quivering from the overstimulation “fuckin-h-aaaa-ahhh-mm-shhhhit-jesus fuckin christ” he whimpered, his head falling back against the metal with a sharp bang as she took the flesh into her mouth, flicking her tongue sharply over the weeping tip before smoothly sucking over the buzzing stimulation. He knew if she kept up the act he’d be filling her mouth with his seed within seconds.

“S-sooo fuckin filthy - y’want my cum in y’throat? Mmm? Little fuckin whore- h-holy-oh god- i-” he nearly suffocated her as he buried his cock further down her throat. He reached down, his fingers rubbing along his thick length buried in her warm tight throat. 

“F-fuuuuuck- ah- oh shhh- mmm- thats it- thaaaaaat’s it- good fuckin girl” he grumbled, roughly and sloppily guiding her head in such a way that the noises being made if it weren’t her he would think theyre overdramatic and disgusting. He also didn’t know where the hell all of this talking was coming from. 

Normally in the bedroom, he was quiet. Very quiet. The only way the women he was with knew he’d enjoyed himself was if he even came at all. Sex usually wasn’t about his own pleasure since in the presence of another he found it so hard to get off - it was more about giving him imagery that would help him later in regards to finishing. 

“You are so fuckin good at that huh? You take my cock so well such a good fuckin girl” his jaw goes slack as she put her hands on his hips to steady him and slowly sinks her mouth all the way down to the hilt, her eyes shut in focus. 

She gently rubbed her thumbs over his hips, swallowing around his length in a way that made whimpers fall past his lips he didn’t know he could make himself. “Holy shit y’fuckin- oh- ohhh fuck” he grunts as she takes one of her hands and begins massaging his balls and looking directly into his eyes, pulling off his length to breathe and gently pushing the foreskin back, kissing over the sensitive flesh with her plump lips. 

“You can fuck my face- but deepthroating after a meal like that is pretty hard, id love if I can keep it down” she said, even with spit running down her chin, teary eyes, and swollen lips - she still looked adorable to him. 

“Sorry- sorry” he muttered, loosening his grip on her hair “keep doin’ that fuck yesss” he breathed out as she swirled her tongue around his head. He thrust in and out of her mouth, gradually moving faster but being careful as to not slam into the back of her throat. 

She stroked the bottom half of his length with her other hand, eyes closing and doing her best to swallow around him all the excess saliva that was dripping down her throat. She hollowed out her cheeks, looking up at him as she slowly and carefully sunk down once again, keeping her eyes locked on his. 

“Mmm-shhhit-I’m fuckin-“ he groaned, his knees nearly going weak and head falling back with a thud. Blood roared in his ears, his hands shook slightly from the tension rolling off him in waves. 

She nearly choked at the amount rolling down her throat. She pulled off slightly, swallowing - more like gulping, assuring to hollow her cheeks and swirl her tongue as she pulled off with a pop as to not waste any of the sweet salty mess. 

“You- you- you are fuckin crazy” he breathed, looking down at her. 

She wiped off her mouth, chin, and neck with a tissue she’d kept in her purse before saying “I’d say you’re crazy, “ she got off her knees, picking up the chefs coat he had thrown down for her to kneel on, to which she insided it out before she did so it wouldn’t show any dirt. “If I had that coat? It would never touch the floor” she shook it off carefully. 

He quickly fixed his pants “he’s a friend it doesn’t matter I can always get a new one” he countered, putting the coat back on and buttoning it. 

Her eyes widened “friends?! How the hell did you run into him?!” She asked. 

“You- y’re into fashion ‘n shit?” He asked and she nodded enthusiastically 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Thom Browne is insane all his shit Is absolute fire. I wish I could afford one of his jackets like- it’s totally a dream wishlist kinda thing” she took some gum out of her purse. 

“When do you uh…go back?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow. Headed to Chicago on Wednesday” she said and he nods. 

“Oh- yeah okay..It was uh…it was nice t’meet you” he said awkwardly “I should probably um..” he trailed off, clearing his throat nervously.

“Totally- yeah great to um…great to meet you too chef.” She nodded 

“Could I um…” he rubs the back of his neck anxiously “could I maybe get y’r…” he trails off, cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“My number?” She asked, grabbing her phone out of her purse. 

He nodded, cheeks bright red with embarrassment “yeah sorry-“ he mumbled

“Yeah- if I can get yours” she teased, clicking open the blank contact screen